A system that breeds corruption

Kaine Agary

In Nigeria, it is rare that business is conducted remotely.
People want to ‘see’ you before any discussions can be had. I have
missed out on professional opportunities because in the early
nineties, before I fully committed to moving back to Nigeria, I
would meet people, introduce myself and my services, return to New
York for a few months and on my return to Lagos I would hear things
like, ‘Ah, Mr X been dey find you o,’ or ‘E get one work wey dem
been dey find you for o.’ If I said that Mr X had my contact
details and could have reached me if he truly was looking for me, I
would get, ‘But you no dey na.’

I have been called to sit down at meetings that did not require
my presence. Once, I sent a proposal to the Federal Inland Revenue
Service (FIRS) and got a call from one of their officers to come
and discuss the proposal. At my expense (I was the one looking for
something, after all), I flew into Abuja for the meeting, went into
great detail about the idea, answered all questions, clarified grey
areas, and established how I wanted the FIRS to be involved. Mind
you, most of this information was contained in the text of my
proposal. As the meeting drew to a close, I asked the officer that
I had met with what the next step would be. He said that he would
present the proposal, along with his notes from our meeting and his
superior would decide. Weeks later, when I got a call to attend
another meeting to discuss the proposal, I thought we would be
making progress. Instead, I got there to have the same meeting that
I had had with the first officer. I was answering the same
questions, making the same clarifications and cursing under by
breath. No progress.

By the time I got called again for the third meeting, I had
moved on. I tried unsuccessfully to get a sense of the purpose of
this third meeting, so I told the officer who I had been in contact
with that any other communication outside calling me to sign a
project contract could be done via email or letter. My people in
Port Harcourt say, ‘na money dem dey take stone money.’ I agree,
you must invest in the process, but when the mango you are stoning
is so green and firmly attached to the branches, you must use your
stones wisely and seek more yielding, ripe fruits. When a
contractor prepares an invoice for services rendered, after being
put through the expense of several trips to Abuja (transport,
accommodation, tips, etc), you can be sure that all of that will
find its way into the invoice.

Institutions, particularly public institutions, are not happy
until they see your face because how else will you arrange
something for the ‘boys?’. Take for instance the Nigeria
Immigration Service (NIS). Ordinarily, being on an electronic
passport system should make life easier for everybody. The system
captures the biometric data on all applicants into one central
database which is (or should be) accessible to all branches of the
NIS. This should theoretically decentralise the processing of
passport applications and make service delivery more efficient. But
then, someone decided that certain services could only be rendered
by the headquarters in Abuja. Change of passport data can only be
done in Abuja. I believe that the initial intention of that policy
was to have all data changes done in Abuja but the practicality of
implementing must have forced a review. So now, while women can do
a change of name in their local NIS offices, men have to travel to
Abuja for a change of name. I understand that the desire to prevent
fraudulent persons from changing their names and identity to evade
the authorities, but there are many reasons why a man would change
his name, other than for fraud, and I do not see how herding
everyone to Abuja solves anything.

What is the point of an electronic passport system if it cannot
keep track of changes in whatever jurisdiction those changes are
made, or pull up the data of persons already in the system and
update them in a way that keeps track and links all changes made?It
seems to be that the NIS is operating under a policy that says,
‘Give the people just enough information to make it seem like we
are optimally using technology, but do not give it all away. The
boys in Abuja must eat. People have to come and see them
face-to-face.’ I know two men who have been put through the wringer
trying to change their data in Abuja. The official cost of applying
for a change of data involves a N30,000 administrative cost in
addition to the cost of a new passport (a total of approximately
N60,000). But, depending on which officer you meet when you get to
the NIS headquarters, you will be asked to part with anywhere from
N100,000 to N150,000. If the change of data can be ‘arranged’ for a
fee at the headquarters, then there is still no cure to the
mischief that the NIS was trying to address in the first place.

This is the problem when our systems do not talk to each other.
Everywhere you go, someone is taking your biometric data over and
over again. For the banks, we had to go through the whole Bank
Verification Number (BVN) process – finger printing, etc – yet the
Know Your Customer (KYC) group will not let you have a moment’s
peace when the driving licence you used as your form of
identification expires. Has my identity changed because my licence
has expired? No! The only thing that has changed is my right to
operate a vehicle with the expired licence.

As long as we refuse to take advantage of technology and cut out
these face-to-face requirements for getting even the simplest of
tasks done, those at the frontline of this our fight against
corruption will continue to be battered and bloody-nosed.
Corruption knows how to fight back.