opportunities available to all citizens, including social safety nets.
· Investment in physical infrastructure - particularly electric power,
communications and transport infrastructure like railways, roads, sea and airports and
the like.
· Pragmatic reliance on markets allocating resources and pricing of goods and
services in competitive sectors, as no sustainable development was found to exist
under any conditions without economic freedom and political inclusion.
These six findings informed the design of our economic reform programme throughout Obasanjo’s
second term, which came to be known as the National Economic Empowerment and Development
Strategy, or NEEDS. This period, 2003-2007, recorded the fastest rates of economic growth in
Nigeria’s history. And while we like to say that was the evidence of our hard work-- which was no
doubt the key factor-- we also got very lucky that our hard work coincided with a period of galloping
oil prices, which reached historical highs. [40]
The implementation of NEEDS further split out into the categories of economic stabilization, public
sector reform, governance/anti-corruption reform measures and then finally investments in physical
and human infrastructure. As we attempted this, we were also trying to change the incentive structure
of a society in which a privileged few sit around extracting rents by doing nothing, to a society where
hard work, innovation and an orientation toward results become the norm. We knew that important
people, particularly our parasitic political elites, would fight us, but we made the choice to engage
the fight. Little did any of us know the lengths to which this fight would continue, but we were
nevertheless determined to improve the state of Nigeria through sound reform policies.
During this period, Abuja could not have worked as decently as it is said to have without the critical
support of the other economic reform team members. Each one contributed in his or her own way, and
whether they realize it or not, it has occurred to me several times over the years that many people
really do not know the full stories behind each of the team members, nor how they helped run key
government departments and to a large extent, helped Obasanjo run the country.
Nuhu Ribadu, Chairman of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC)
Most people think that Nuhu and I have been friends from childhood, but as a matter of fact, I only met
him in late 2002 or early 2003, years after I had started running the BPE. I had, however, heard of
him in my university days. When I was pursuing my master’s degree at Ahmadu Bello University, a
story went around Kongo campus about an undergraduate law student having an encounter with armed
robbers attempting to hijack his friend’s car. The story was that Nuhu and his friend went out for a
drive – Nuhu was driving, while his friend sat in the passenger seat – and soon enough found
themselves held up by armed men who wanted to take the friend's car. The men made Nuhu stop the
car pointed their guns at Nuhu and his friend and demanded they get out and hand over the keys. Nuhu
and his friend dutifully did as told, but then one of the bandits slapped Nuhu in the face, just for added
measure. So Nuhu slapped him right back. It seemed to be instinctive, but it was also perceived as
courageous because someone holding you at gunpoint ought to be in the position of slapping you
without expecting to be slapped in return.
The stunned gunman threatened to shoot Nuhu, whose response, according to this version of events,
was not unreasonable, though perhaps foolhardy, in the circumstance:
“You are stupid. You wanted the keys, I gave you the keys. Why did you slap me?”
“I have a gun, I could kill you,” replied the gunman.
“Go ahead and kill me then.”
The leader of the gang then stepped in and told the gunman to back off.
Nuhu could have been shot dead that day and the world would never have known he ever existed. But
he lived, and the rest is a pivotal part of our recent history.
This story of the confrontation spread rapidly around Kongo campus. Even though Nuhu and I are
about the same age, we did not move in the same circles since he was an undergraduate when I was a
graduate student, and so we never met. And now years later, when BPE director Ibrahim Shehu
Njiddah asked me to meet his friend Nuhu Ribadu, I thought the name sounded vaguely familiar. Nuhu
had just been appointed chairman of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission, a brand new
law enforcement agency that would lead a sustained and consequential war against money laundering
and advanced fee fraud (419) scams.
On meeting Nuhu, he confirmed that he was the same Nuhu Ribadu who was an undergraduate student
at Kongo Campus of ABU about 20 years earlier. After introductions and exchange of pleasantries,
Nuhu went straight to the point.
“I am a police officer and just been appointed to this position, but all I got is this letter,” he said,
showing me a basic form letter from the Secretary to the Government appointing him chairman of
the EFCC, congratulating him and wishing him success.
“I have no budget, I have no office, I have no personnel, nothing. But I have this important job to
do,” he said.
“What is this job about anyway?” I asked.
Nuhu took little time to explain. “Well, Nigeria has been on the list of non-cooperating countries of
the Financial Action Task Force (FATF), and for this reason, there are some international financial
transactions that Nigerian banks cannot conclude and we have to get ourselves off that list,” he
explained. “One of the conditions is the enactment of the Money Laundering Act and the Economic
and Financial Crimes Commission Act. The EFCC is supposed to be the law enforcement agency for
the money laundering legislation. So I am supposed to fight the 419 scam letters, the resultant money
laundering and all that. But I have nothing, I have been running up and down, I have met the secretary
to the government, I have met the finance minister and they both say they can’t help me, I am not in the
budget for this fiscal year, 2003.”
“But certainly there are contingency provisions or service-wide votes from which the authorities
can get you some money?” I asked.
“Well they have not been able to. I do not have anything. I think that if I am able to do something
that can show results, maybe I will have support, but as of right now, I have a commission on
paper and nothing else. I have not even been able to see the president.”
Nuhu was appointed to chair the EFCC without ever meeting Obasanjo, so he actually did not know
the president at all at the time. Obasanjo made a lot of such key and high level appointments based on
recommendations of others he trusted. In the case of Nuhu, the Attorney General, Kanu Agabi, was the
chief advocate for his appointment, and Obasanjo nominated Nuhu for confirmation by the Senate
based solely on trust in Kanu Agabi’s judgment. Obasanjo was like that – if he trusted your judgment,
he took major decisions and made appointments based on your recommendations without asking many
questions. I got many people into government in that manner once he began trusting my judgment as
well. Before the EFCC appointment, Nuhu was just a regular cop – an assistant commissioner, which
&nbs
p; is basically a middle management position in the Nigerian police.
Nuhu Ribadu was Kanu Agabi’s gift to Nigeria. Agabi remains one of our country’s leading lawyers
and a man of principles, courage and unimpeachable integrity. He wrote the foreword to the White
Paper published in 2009 by Robert Amsterdam[41] on my persecution by the Nigerian government. I
am therefore always amused when Atiku Abubakar's supporters claimed he ‘got Nuhu his job’ and
then ‘Nuhu betrayed Atiku.’ Both assertions are false. In the first place, Atiku did not even know
when Nuhu got nominated and was cleared by the Senate. He admitted as much to me when I went to
persuade him to approve for some BPE funds to be lent to EFCC for it's start-up. Furthermore, even if
he got Nuhu this job, should Nuhu not investigate him if he gets involved in money laundering and
other activities under the purview of the EFCC? The assumption that getting a person appointed to a
government job means perpetual slavery to that person's interests and preferences is simply absurd!
After hearing all this briefing from Nuhu, I asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Well I need help in institutional design. I am convinced that you are running the best public
service institution in Nigeria. Everyone talks about BPE, everyone knows about how it is
transparent, and has efficient and highly motivated staff. I want to learn that from BPE and you.
So I need you to help me design an appropriate structure for the EFCC, so that it can work like
the BPE. That is one.”
I liked what I was hearing from this man.
“Secondly, I need an office. I do not know if you have any space here or in one of your satellite
offices.”
This was a reference to BPE’s other office building that was purchased in 1995 or thereabouts, and
which we were not using, a four bedroom house in Imani Estate, which we were in the process of
converting to house one of our departments because we had grown too large for our premises on Osun
Crescent in Maitama District.
“I also need money. But I do not know what you can do to get me money because I do not have
staff, I…” he went on cataloguing what assistance he would need from BPE.
Something about the way he spoke really hit me – there was a real passion, anger even, for wanting to
do something, to prove that something could be done in our country's political space. For me, visible
anger about our nation's state of affairs and the desire to change it are the most important qualities in a
public servant. Nuhu captured my attention right away.
“Yallabai,” he said to me, using an honorific in his native Fulfulde, “look, if I just get a minimum
level of support, in three weeks, I will shut down and arrest all the leaders of these scam letter
operations, because I know them,” he said. “The senior officers of the police force know who
and where they are but they pay our bosses and have become untouchable but I know them, I
know where they are, I will get them. I will shut them all down. These letters are giving the
country a bad name. We have to do something, right away.”
This was all it took – this one meeting to persuade me.
“Nuhu, I am convinced. I believe that you will do what you said. We must support your new
commission. I will give you two of my assistants to work with you to design an organizational
structure. We will give you two rooms downstairs to use as your temporary office and our staff
will work with you until you are fully set up. Let me think about how we can get you some
money.”
Nuhu was very grateful. I went to see the finance minister, who said the new budget had just been
passed and it did not include the EFCC because the budgeting cycle is January to December and the
budget is usually submitted in August or September the previous year. By that point, the EFCC Act
had not been passed yet. Nobody even gave the EFCC a second thought. I met with the secretary to the
government and suggested a search for funding under the contingency or service-wide votes or
something, but the then minister of finance did not give us much room to pursue that further.
I then remembered a little-known clause in section nine of the Privatization and Commercialization
Act that empowers the BPE and the National Council of Privatization to do whatever was necessary
to further the interests of privatization. It is an omnibus clause in the legislation, which gives some
flexibility. After clearing it with the BPE attorneys and obtaining an en principe consent of the vice
president, I went back to Nuhu to find out how much he needed to take off.
“We have good news. I think we can get you some money, how much do you need?”
“Twenty million naira.”
“Twenty million?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, that is all I need.”
“Ok, I think you are new in this business. Let us get you 100 million. If you do not need it, keep it
in the bank and return it at the end of the fiscal year. But I do not think we can ask for this kind of
money twice. I have asked, I have tested the waters, we are going to get it, let’s ask for a lot. We
will get you 100 million.”
“No, it is too much, what am I going to do with that kind of money?”
“It is better to have money and not to need it than to need it and not have it. So let’s get you 100
million.” I smiled, surprised at Nuhu's modesty, and financial naivety.
We knew Atiku would not approve whatever amount we asked, but would cut it down to feel like the
decision maker. So we sent a memo requesting 200 million and sure enough, 100 million was
approved. We then issued a cheque to Nuhu and, in addition to the two office suites, assigned him a
couple of BPE staff to assist him to get up and running. Nuhu’s very first employee was Dr. Abdu
Mukhtar, my special assistant, who continued to work for the FCT after I left office in 2007. The BPE
staff (Mukhtar, a medical doctor and Harvard MBA, and Toyin Ibrahim, a youth corps member)
worked with him to design EFCC's organizational structure, programmes and plans, salary,
remuneration levels and the rest of the details that we had spent the past couple of years fine-tuning at
the BPE. Two staff became three with the addition of Hadiza Dagabana Sani, a senior BPE lawyer,
who I have come to value for her intelligence, dependability and work ethic. This started a tradition
which yet survives, because many ex-BPE staff have remained in the employ of the EFCC, and other
federal government institutions. Nuhu's first secretary, and Staff Number 4, was Rakiya, another BPE
staff. These four were EFCC's pioneer staff, and helped lay the foundations for its future success.
Typically, in the Nigerian government, any new agency, on receiving its first budget allocation, is
then faced with the challenge of showing the ministry of finance at year’s end that all of the money
was, in fact, necessary. If the agency cannot show that it needed that entire amount of money, it stands
the risk of having its budget allocation cut in succeeding years. In the case of Nuhu, even the 100
million naira was too little for him. He needed more money before the year ran out. The
miscalculation was nothing more than inexperience – he had not ever done anything like that before.
When he worked in the police force, his salary came in, and I do not think he had an idea of the
; concept of running such an operation with budgets and stuff. This was the first time he was running
such a potentially large organization, but he learnt quickly.
Now, technically speaking, what we did – lending EFCC some money, was barely legal. We found a
loophole and the doctrine of necessity to justify it, but our constitution makes it very clear that public
funds could not be spent without appropriation by the legislature. What the BPE did, for which the
Vice President is accountable as the approving authority, was to in effect take public funds (without
appropriation), hand it to another agency (without virement), which then spent them without
appropriation either. Legislation is normally required to approve these sorts of actions, but this
provision in the Privatization Act enabled us to collect monies and remit them only at the end of a
transaction-closure period. Sometimes we would sit on these huge amounts of cash that had to be
placed in banks to earn interest.
For instance, we would receive a down payment from a core investor, while the final payment would
be due the following year. This meant we had to wait until the whole transaction sum was collected
because the transaction could fail and we might have to make full or partial refund of the deposit. For
these reasons, we often had huge amounts of money in partially remissible funds at the BPE, (which,
according to our lawyers had not become “public funds” yet) and this was part of what we used to
support EFCC and Nuhu. It was basically a short-term loan to the EFCC to reimburse the BPE in
future, because we could not give them money outright, and I do not think the money ended up being
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