The expectation that officeholders help themselves and others with jobs, contracts, and other favors is a major manifestation of our prebendal attitude toward public office. This expectation extends to include regular and substantial cash donations, clearly in excess of the office holders’ salaries and allowances. It should be noted that the concept of “bringing home the pork” or patronage politics is not unique to our region. Ours, on the other hand, is on the verge of going too far, and in most cases amounts to outright abuse of power.

To be sure, there is a slew of laws and regulations in place to prevent or limit abuse of power. Most citizens also believe that government exists solely to advance the collective interests of the people, not the narrow interests of a select few; that public officials should serve the people, not themselves; that things should be done correctly, and that everyone should be treated fairly.

But the prevailing and pervasive culture, which sees the public office as a conquered territory where the conquerors are free to treat themselves to the spoils of war and be magnanimous enough to sprinkle the largesse either to those lucky enough to be close to them because of kinship, religion, or ethnicity or to those who contributed in cash or in-kind to a campaign, easily undermines and trumps these laws and regulations and open commitments. People hardly raise an eyebrow when officeholders clearly live beyond their means because of the prevailing culture.

For many in our society, the public office has thus almost become a sure path to wealth. Families, friends, and associates of various stripes also expect such wealth to trickle down to them, as having one of their own in a position of power is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to partake in the ‘national cake.’ It’s their turn to ‘chop.’ The pretense of doing the right thing for most people crumbles under the weight of the hidden commitment that they have a right to benefit from being near or in power.

Those who do not help themselves or others are labeled as stupid, naive, wicked, or self-centered. Also, refusing to help others or ‘be useful,’ particularly to patrons and real or assumed constituents, may put a limit on how long or how far officeholders can hold on to their seats. So, not only is the nature of the expectations layered into these dynamics but so are the potential costs of not meeting those expectations.

During my five years as the head of NEITI, I decided to take on this deeply entrenched value system one person at a time. My reasoning was that not favoring myself or those close to me would give me the moral right to demand due process and assist me in gaining others’ understanding, even if reluctantly. I insisted on fair, competitive, and transparent procurements and a few limited recruitments.

Avoiding conflicts of interest is still a priority for me. I made it clear that the office should never buy food or pastries from my wife, who owns a bakery and a food business in Abuja, and that if they did, I would refuse to approve the payment. I asked my wife to bring cakes, pastries, and food to the office on special occasions like International Women’s Day, Christmas, or the achievement of a major milestone like EITI Validation Satisfactory Progress. However, I paid for these out of my own pocket; otherwise, my wife would have contributed to my work.

Someone I know has applied for a contract or a job on a few occasions. I couldn’t stop them from applying, but I couldn’t help them improve or influence their chances. In such cases, I would declare a conflict of interest and withdraw from the proceedings. None of the few people working under my supervision were from my state, geopolitical zone, or religion. But it’s not like I went out of my way to prevent anyone from joining these organizations. But I didn’t go out of my way to make things easier for anyone. My former special assistant, a Christian from Cross River State, was the only person I had any sort of prior relationship with who got hired while I was at NEITI. He was chosen through a competitive process, and when it came time for him to be interviewed, I unexpectedly excused myself from the board’s interviewing committee.

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This attitude did not deter many people from asking me to hire, hire, or hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, hire, Even when there were no vacancies or ongoing recruitment processes, I received a steady stream of letters from members of the National Assembly, presidential aides, traditional rulers, and others introducing candidates for employment. The first of these letters came from a high-ranking traditional ruler in the Southwest, introducing someone from the Northwest to NEITI for employment.

I was aware of the country’s unemployment situation, which undoubtedly drives people to desperate measures, but I also wondered if people were actually employed in this manner. However, I made certain that we responded to such letters promptly by stating that we were not recruiting at the time and that they would be notified when positions became available. We also made it clear that any future hiring would be done through a transparent, competitive process.

It’s important to note that these were not requests for their candidates to be given a fair chance to compete, but rather to be given preferential treatment, for the process to be rigged in their favor, or for their candidates to be hired without going through any process at all. The number of letters increased, and replying to them all would have been a full-time job in and of itself. Just for their information, I used to promptly minute on the letters to the appropriate departments. I did, however, make a few exceptions for NYSC and internship postings, but not for job postings. Even the exemptions didn’t apply to anyone I knew personally.

However, it is not uncommon for public officials, particularly CEOs, to hire relatives and others from their clans, communities, states, or tribes. Even those who are not CEOs are able to secure such a position. In some cases, based on the state with the largest number of employees in the organization or the language or dialect most commonly spoken as if it were the official language, it is simple to figure out where the organization’s leader or most powerful person is from. In fact, one of the erroneous metrics for evaluating public officials’ performance in their communities is the number of ‘their people’ they employ.

This and other preferential approaches to recruitment invariably create a lopsided workforce, reduce young people’s faith in their country, and shut out the best and brightest where they are desperately needed, in addition to violating the tenets of conflict of interests and advantaging those already privileged. I had relatives and siblings looking for jobs as the head of NEITI, not to mention friends and others. I could only point them in the direction of opportunities or provide financial assistance.

However, the fact that you chose not to bend the rules for your relatives and friends will not deter others from pressuring you to hire their own relatives and friends. In fact, some of the people who make requests might be quite bold. I recall one of the FCT’s traditional rulers stationing himself at our Asokoro office gate, complete with all the necessary office paraphernalia. He drove straight into the compound after me. It was difficult to claim that I was not in the office or in a meeting because I had been out in the official car. As a result, I had to pay him a visit.

He began by speaking to me in Hausa (as many people do because of my first name), then switched to impeccable Yoruba when he realized I was Yoruba. He came to hand-deliver letters containing CVs of his subjects that must be employed at NEITI, which he had sent earlier. I explained our situation to him politely and promised to let him know if anything came up. My explanation seemed to impress him. I followed him to his car, half-prostrated in respect, and even waited for his car to leave.

My explanations of our tight financial situation and the need to follow due process fell on deaf ears on several occasions. Those seeking favors would promise to speak with higher-ups in government to increase and release our budget in full so that we could hire more people, particularly their candidates. Because these were events that would occur in the future, and I knew they were unlikely to occur, I would often play along because arguing with such people would have been pointless. There were also those who advised me to hire my own people because “everyone does it.” It was made clear to me that if you don’t help your own people, you will be reminded of it when you need them in the future, perhaps when you run for office. Because “this is Nigeria, everyone assists their own,” a cleric once advised me to help people of the same faith.

I vividly recall a meeting with the chairman of a National Assembly committee who had requested my presence. I knew there had to be something based on previous encounters. To make sure I had a witness, I went to see him with one of the directors. He brought out an envelope and called in a man who had been waiting in the outer part of his office prior to our arrival before we could finish exchanging pleasantries.

He stated flatly, “I know how much I put in your last budget for your audit.” “This is the individual who will conduct the audit, and this is his proposal.” Go talk to him about it.”

Before I took office, this was the budget, and luckily for me, the contract had already been awarded. I informed him of this, as well as the fact that the selection of NEITI auditors was a lengthy, open process that would be difficult for anyone to control. I had no choice but to request that our team explain the process to his candidate so that he could submit a competitive bid in the future. He reluctantly agreed.

I developed a variety of responses to these requests, ranging from offering to visit VIPs who would have requested to see me, to painting a bleak but accurate picture of our financial situation in a way that would elicit pity, to taking the time to explain why we had to do things in an open and transparent manner, or promising to help in other ways or when things improved. But I suppose it also helped that they couldn’t use anything to force my hand. Abuja is a small city with a lot of hidden gems. They would have gotten a whiff of it if I had been assisting myself and those close to me, and there could have been investigations, especially from those with oversight powers, to put me on the spot and possibly extract concessions from me.

I’d been in some meetings where those with oversight authority would start by picking holes in our performance, putting us on the defensive, only to conclude with something like, “We got information that you’re using.” “How many slots do you have available for us?”

*The above is an edited excerpt from Waziri Adio’s memoir “The Arc of the Possible,” which will be available on December 1st.