Corruption

Several southern African states are in the news for anti-corruption efforts. In South Africa, President Cyril Ramaphosa has established a special tribunal to expedite state efforts to track down ill-gotten gains. In Mozambique, the former chief of the intelligence service and the former president’s son have been arrested in connection with a multi-billion dollar corruption scandal. In Angola, which also witnessed the arrest of a former president’s son last year, two sitting members of National Assembly from the ruling party were recently indicted on charges relating to corruption. These headlines are cheering to good governance advocates. However, in all three cases, the same party that held the reins of government when alleged corrupt practices occurred remains in power today. Southern Africa’s ruling parties are contorted in knots as they try to simultaneously protect their privileged position in the political and economic landscape while addressing the corruption that has corroded their popularity and integrity. The balancing act falls heavily on the shoulders of the region’s presidents, who must constantly calibrate how far to go in holding senior members of their own party to account, and to anticipate the invisible lines that, if crossed, would split the party or loosen their own grips on the party’s top spot. Thus, President Ramaphosa’s special tribunal will deal with cases brought by the Special Investigating Unit, which in turn investigates those cases referred by the president. It is all part of a web of authorities that allows the president considerable discretion in determining who will and will not be held accountable for past misdeeds. It remains to be seen whether the Mozambique arrests were merely responses to international pressure, useful theater before October’s elections, or whether they will lead to convictions and, finally, a full accounting for the hidden loan scandal first exposed in 2016. Many of Angolan President João Lourenço’s reforms can be understood as moves to consolidate his power and break the hold of former President José Eduardo dos Santos’s old guard—whether the state will operate in a fundamentally more transparent way going forward remains an open question—although there are some encouraging signs. Because the internal balancing act is so difficult, and so urgent, it is likely to consume most of the energy, attention, and political will of these leaders and their governments, with potentially far-reaching implications. Managing an anti-corruption drive as an internal party affair may mean missing an opportunity to strengthen democratic accountability in a country overall. Equally, as the Southern African Development Community (SADC)'s tepid response to crisis in Zimbabwe and fraudulent elections in the Democratic Republic of Congo suggests, this delicate internal work leaves little appetite for bold strokes or clear regional leadership in foreign affairs.

Claire Wilmot is a freelance journalist and research officer at the Global Justice Lab at the University of Toronto. Two days before Nigeria’s election postponement was announced, thousands of police officers travelled from their duty stations to field postings across the country to ensure the security of voters and sensitive election materials. A week later, officers remain in the field without stipends for food and accommodation.  “The money is finished,” said one officer deployed to the south of the country. “The public hall they are using [to house officers] has disconnected the water and light,” he added. According to the Police Services Commission (PSC), a civilian oversight agency for the Nigerian police, similar reports are coming in from police in states all across the country. No additional money has been made available for stipends.  “If officers are mobilized and their allowances are not paid it could be a recipe for election violence,” said Dr. Benson Olugbuo, executive director of CLEEN Foundation, a leading Nigerian civil society organization focused on police reform. Security agencies are considered to be “actors likely to cause election violence” in almost half of Nigeria’s thirty-six states, according to CLEEN Foundation’s Election Security Threat Assessment [PDF]. “How can we expect them to go there and do whatever it takes to protect the elections when they haven’t been paid? It will definitely affect morale and concentration,” said Rommie Mom, human rights commissioner for the PSC.  Additional funds to support officers would have to be approved through the National Assembly—a lengthy process unlikely to conclude by the time voting is scheduled to begin on Saturday, February 23. The PSC has filed a report with the national security advisor requesting additional funds be made available for officers, but they have not yet received a response. While most senior officers have returned to their home stations until next Saturday, almost all junior officers, who make up the majority of the force, will remain in the field for at least another week. These officers will do the majority of the heavy lifting come election day, responding to possible incidents of violence and crime, as well as policing against vote buying and political interference in the electoral process.  After Nigeria emerged from military rule in 1999, security services continued to play a critical role in elections. The worst examples of security sector misconduct came from the 2007 general elections, where the EU observation mission reported that police and military officers turned a blind eye to vote rigging [PDF], while also intimidating and harassing voters. The 2015 elections were the first in the country’s history considered by Nigerian and international observers to be broadly credible, despite some reports of misconduct by security services [PDF]. “There were isolated incidents [in 2015], but mainly they did well,” said Rommie Mom. “Unfortunately, this is a sad story because in 2018 we had gubernatorial elections in Osun and Ekiti states, and unfortunately they were back to the 2007 template.” Election tribunals are currently hearing cases of security sector interference in the Osun and Ekiti cases. Media reports confirm police were unable to prevent vote buying, intimidation, and violence at the polls. Resisting political influence is no easy feat during Nigerian elections. Political parties have significant resources at their disposal to buy influence, and it is not hard to imagine that tired, hungry officers might be less resilient in the face of corruption, intimidation, or violence.  In many parts of the country, civil conflict and crime violence continues to threaten voter turnout. Security agencies are absolutely necessary to ensure that Nigerians feel safe enough to head to the polls, and Nigeria’s Electoral Act names the police as the lead agency in providing election security. Civil society groups estimate that the Nigerian Police Force (NPF) will provide anywhere between 60 and 85 percent of election security personnel, though the NPF has not confirmed these numbers. “As a matter of strategy, we try not to give out numbers,” said Frank Mba, assistant police commissioner and public relations officer for the NPF. “But what I can say is that almost every police officer in Nigeria [approximately 350,000] will one way or another be involved in policing this election.”  The central role police play in Nigeria’s elections make their welfare a source of great concern. On February 23, they may face significant challenges to the freedom, fairness, and credibility of the election. “Our argument has always been that if you deploy security agencies during an election, their welfare is paramount. If money is moving around and government is not paying, it’s a problem,” Dr. Benson Olugbuo said. 

At a business breakfast on February 7, Doyin Salami pointed out the elephant in the living room of Nigeria’s economy. The country is not oil rich; rather it is oil dependent. He asked attendees to acknowledge this distinction. Dr. Salami did the math. He estimated that Nigeria could produce 800 million barrels of oil per year, which means that for every one of the Nigeria’s roughly 200 million people, the country produces four barrels of oil. He also estimated a population of 200 million. That meant four barrels of oil per year per Nigerian. Filling in the blanks with some of my own math, at $45 per barrel, that equates to about $180 per person per year. He then turned to Saudi Arabia. He estimated that it would produce 4 billion barrels each year, but with a population of only 30 million, the kingdom would produce $6,000 for every one Saudi person, or over 130 barrels per person per year.  This sentiment is not new. Former finance minister and foreign minister Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala has made the same point in the past, as have many others. The reality is that Nigeria remains a very poor country, despite a handful of very rich Nigerians. As successive government have urged, the country must diversify its economy if it is to break out of the poverty trap.  Nigeria remains "Exhibit A" of the so-called resource curse. At the time of independence in 1960, Nigeria exported food to West Africa, but now, it is now a net importer. In 1960, Nigeria had a significant manufacturing sector, especially in textiles, furniture, and other goods. With the coming of oil, which began in earnest in the 1970s, fiscal and economic policy were distorted, and oil sucked-up domestic and foreign investment at the expense of other sectors of the economy.  Government borrowing when oil prices were low led to debt. Military governments punctuated by coups resulted in policy instability and uncertainty and facilitated whole-sale looting of the state. Government revenue increasingly came from oil. With the coming of civilian government in 1999, there has been some recovery, but government revenue remains hostage to fluctuating oil prices. Corruption, if less chaotic and rampant now than under the military, has become institutionalized at almost every level of government. The bright spot, if small now, has been a proliferation of good governance presidential candidates and other Nigerians who are challenging king oil, politics as usual, and are shining a light on systemic government corruption. Foreign friends of Nigeria should support their efforts. 

The alarming reports out of Tanzania have become commonplace. Current Tanzanian President John Magufuli, who swept into office on a popular anti-corruption platform, has been presiding over a shocking decline in political and civil rights in the country. Civil society leaders, opposition politicians, journalists, and businesspeople feel unsafe on their own soil—and with good reason. Crossing the regime can mean arrest on trumped-up charges, abductions, or extrajudicial violence. The legal environment has grown more and more draconian, shrinking political space, and limiting public access to information. Last November, the European Union recalled its ambassador to the country due to its concerns about the human rights situation, and the U.S. State Department issued a statement expressing deep concern about the “atmosphere of violence, intimidation, and discrimination” created by the Tanzanian government. But until very recently, Tanzania was a development darling and a preferred African partner of the United States. Both symbolically and substantively, the United States invested in Tanzania’s success. President George W. Bush and President Barack Obama both made stops there. President Jakaya Kikwete, in office from 2005 to 2015, enjoyed Oval Office chats with both presidents as well. High-profile ambassadors were sent to Dar es Salaam—among them former congressman and current USAID administrator Mark Green. Tanzania was part of the first group of the President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) focus countries, and signed a Millennium Challenge Corporation Compact in 2008. The United States’ enthusiasm for Tanzania continued to be reflected in a number of Obama administration initiatives, including Feed the Future, the Global Health Initiative, Power Africa, and programs to promote maternal and child health. Despite a constant, low-volume rumble of concern about endemic corruption and some qualms about absorptive capacity, for years, the United States lavished attention and support on Tanzania in the hopes of cultivating a democratic development success story. There are important questions to ask about how the Tanzania storyline changed so dramatically, so quickly. It certainly tells us something about the importance of leadership and tone at the top—a charismatic new leader can play a massively consequential part in changing a country’s trajectory for good or ill, as Ethiopia and Tanzania suggest. But Tanzania can also tell us something about how countries are primed for authoritarianism. When levels of frustration around service delivery and corruption reach a certain threshold, popular enthusiasm for a “bulldozer” who gets things done no matter who or what is crushed along the way can soar. This can lead to a society more and more dependent on the goodwill and honesty of the leader at the top, with few protections should those factors change or dissipate.   From donors’ perspective, decades of development investment are surely at risk when a state prohibits any questioning of its statistics or deviation from its preferred narrative. Tanzanian trends should tell the United States something about how we invest in perceived successes. Development never happens in a vacuum, and no state’s politics are set on perpetual autopilot. Perhaps the United States was too sanguine about the strength of Tanzanian democracy, and too quick to sweep warning signs, like repeated instances of repression in Zanzibar, aside in a desire to focus on development metrics. Under no circumstances does the United States of America determine the future of Tanzania, nor should it. But a keener sense of popular frustrations, and more support for civil society and democratic institutions, might have helped Tanzanians to protect their ability to hold their leaders accountable and chart their own course.

When John Bolton rolled out the Trump administration’s Africa strategy late last year, many observers noted the absence of language around strengthening democratic accountability and strong governance, or supporting those defending human rights on the continent. In the weeks that followed, the world got a clearer sense of what those omissions might mean—nowhere more so than in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). On January 24, Felix Tshisekedi was sworn-in as the DRC’s new president. U.S. Ambassador Michael Hammer heralded the moment as the “first-ever peaceful, democratic transfer of power” in the country. It may have been peaceful, but it was democratic only in the way that a movie set’s facades are actual buildings. They look right at a glance, but once you peer inside, there is nothing there. All available evidence indicated that Tshisekedi did not win the election. Nor were there rules or laws in Congo that could somehow explain the backroom deal that determined the announced electoral outcome. The election was stolen, pure and simple. The Congolese people who bravely came out to vote were treated like unwitting extras in a drama staged by elites. Despite having suggested it would isolate and pressure those undermining democracy in Congo just days before, the Trump administration decided to join other states in accepting the sham outcome in an effort to stave off a potentially violent stalemate in Congo. The wisdom of that choice is debatable. Congo’s instability is largely a function of deeply flawed and unaccountable governance, so the idea that an unaccountable leader and dubiously legitimate parliament will improve security over time sounds a lot like wishful thinking. Proponents of this idea prefer to call it prudence. But prudence is one thing; praising the democratic nature of Tshisekedi’s ascendance is another. The people of Congo have good historical reasons to be skeptical of the United States. At a minimum, officials should choose their words with care. The United States’ interest in democratic legitimacy may be highly selective right now as it clearly matters a great deal more to this administration in Venezuela than in the DRC. But outright misrepresentations do us no favors. There are plenty of forces around the world working to devalue the meaning of ideas like democracy, or even truth. The United States ought not to join them.

In January 2018, Ramaphosa appointed a Judicial Commission of Inquiry into “state capture,” the label commonly used in South Africa for government corruption. The head is Deputy Chief Justice Raymond Zondo. He is assisted by five other commissioners. The “Zondo Commission” holds hearings that are open to the public and broadcast live.  Of late, South Africans have been transfixed by the testimony to the Zondo Commission of Angelo Agrizzi detailing the extravagant bribes paid by companies to the highest level of the governing African National Congress (ANC), mostly in return for highly lucrative contracts. Agrizzi was the chief operating officer of Bosasa, a logistics company purchased by a white South African, Gavin Watson, who was celebrated for playing rugby with black Africans during apartheid in the 1970s. He used his “liberation” credentials to develop contacts with the ANC leadership. The granularity of Agrizzi’s testimony about the size and scope of the bribes Bosasa allegedly paid is titillating. He said bribes ranged from cases of expensive scotch to luxury automobiles to large sums of cash. While Zuma was named in Agrizzi's testimony, President Ramaphosa is also being investigated in connection with the corruption associated with Bosaso. Agrizzi claims that he received multiple offers of large sums of money if he would keep quiet. He did not. Subsequent to his cooperation with investigators, an audio recording surfaced in which he used insulting and racists languages when referring to South Africa's black majority. For some, this might invalidate Agrizzi's testimony. However, Raymond Zondo, while deploring the racist remarks, said, “What I heard there is extremely offensive but that does not mean I will not examine your evidence to figure out where you’re speaking the truth and where not.”   Ramaphosa and Zuma are still locked in a struggle for dominance in the ANC, with Ramaphosa slowly consolidating his position. Nevertheless, Zuma retains substantial ANC support, especially in the rural areas. Testimony from the Zondo Commission is unlikely to significantly erode this base of support. As of now, South Africa's elections are scheduled for May. The chief opposition to the ANC comes from the Democratic Alliance (DA) and the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF). The DA is the official opposition and the second largest party in parliament. A DA victory will probably require a coalition with minor parties and even part of the ANC, should it split. The EFF is radical in its economic policy and pushes, among other things, for the expropriation of white-owned land without compensation. It is noisy, but it is unclear whether its support will reach double-digits. The DA is trying to exploit politically the testimony emerging from the Zondo commission, but it is still widely perceived as the “white” party despite its black leader, Mmusi Maimaine. It has its own internal conflicts and a history of ineptness in appealing to an overwhelmingly black electorate. At the January 2019 World Economic Forum in Davos, South Africa President Cyril Ramaphosa was blunt about corruption in South Africa: “We’ve gone through a challenging number of years, nine years to be exact, where we seemed to lose our way, where we deviated from the path that you traditionally would have expected us to traverse.” He was clearly referring to the Jacob Zuma presidency. However, the Agrizzi's testimony alleges that corruption preceded Zuma and implies that it continues under Ramaphosa.  It seems unlikely that the results of the Zondo Commission will influence significantly the May elections, but even so, the public aspect of the hearings is highly positive in terms of establishing a political culture of accountability and transparency, however disconcerting it might be for the ANC leadership at the moment.

President Cyril Ramaphosa of South Africa selected Shamila Batohi to the new national director of public prosecutions (NDPP) for a single ten-year term. As NDPP, Batohi will head the National Prosecuting Authority (NPA), which, as its name implies, determines who to prosecute and who not to prosecute on behalf of the state.  The NPA is accountable to parliament with the Minister of Justice (who sits in parliament) having final authority over prosecutions. Contrary to the spirit of the constitution, the office has been a political football, and no national director has ever remained in office for a full term. Especially during the presidency of Jacob Zuma (2009–2017), state-linked corruption escalated, with accusations that the president’s cronies were complicit in “state capture.” Zuma ensured that the NDPP was sympathetic to him and his supporters, but the Constitutional Court determined that Zuma’s final appointment to chief prosecutor, Shaun Abrahams, was illegal, and he was forced to step down. Hence, President Cyril Ramphosa had the opportunity to fill the position. The president of South Africa may appoint a NDPP under his or her own authority. Ramaphosa, however, as a first step to de-politicize the NPA appointed a selection panel to vet applicants in a public process. The panel then submitted a short list to Ramaphosa, from which he selected Batohi. Batohi has a distinguished resume. She has been a senior advisor to the prosecutor at the International Criminal Court in The Hague since 2009, where she remained untouched by Zuma-era scandals. Earlier, she served as the director of public prosecutions for fifteen years in KwaZulu-Natal. According to the Indian media, she is of Indian origin. Zuma and his allies have never hesitated to play the race card, and they are doing so now with respect to the Batohi appointment, though apparently to no effect. More seriously, the NPA will likely address in the near future numerous cases involving members of the former Zuma administration and his supporters still in office. Ramaphosa ran as a reformer against Zuma’s preferred candidate for leader of the African National Congress (ANC), the ruling party since the end of apartheid, but Ramaphosa was himself Zuma’s deputy president and thus a central part of the Zuma administration. Hence the position’s sensitivity. Nevertheless, this episode illustrates certain characteristics of South Africa and the Ramaphosa administration, at least thus far. The first is that South Africa has a depth of internationally-recognized legal talent that other African states can only envy. The second is the strength and independence of the court system: it was the constitutional court that found illegal Zuma’s NDPP appointment of a close political ally. The third is that the process of removing one NDPP and the appointment of another was done entirely according to the law.  Of course, it remains to be seen if the new chief prosecutor will aggressively pursue corruption cases, especially within the ruling ANC, of which Ramaphosa is the head. However, Batohi’s background and previous performance is encouraging.  

The Nigerian administration that comes into power following the February elections will face serious, continuing security challenges. The Boko Haram insurgency in the north is heating up; the ongoing, low-level insurgency in the Niger Delta oil patch waxes and wanes; conflicts over land and water use with ethnic and religious overtones in the Middle Belt at times produces more victims than the conflict with Boko Haram in the north; pro-Biafra sentiments have found new life in the south; and the Islamic Movement of Nigeria (IMN), a Shia group, has become more salient in the Middle Belt and the north, resulting in regular clashes with security services, and the detainment, since 2015, of its leader, Ibrahim el-Zakzaky, despite orders to release him. These challenges would normally fall under the purview of the Nigeria Police Force (NPF), a national gendarmerie (Nigeria does not benefit from local or state police). The police number some 370,000 with proposals for greatly expanding it, but they are also implicated in many of the country's problems: Boko Haram's early leader, Muhammad Yusuf, was killed in police custody; the police routinely clash with and have killed members of the IMN, whose protests are generally peaceful (though authorities disagree); and the police are struggling to respond to the current kidnapping epidemic. The winner of the election would do well to prioritize police reform. Chronically underfunded and under-trained, the police are too often unequipped to deal with local security issues, forcing the Nigerian military to step in and establish order. The army is now deployed in thirty of the thirty-six states, mostly doing police work and undercutting the credibility of the NPF.  Unable to perform its basic functions to safeguard the community, the police are often used for VIP protection. To meet the UN recommended ratio of one policeman for 400 residents, the police force would need to add 155,000 officers. This implies a major recruitment and training effort, which the Inspector General proposes would take five years to implement.  Furthermore, police salaries are low. Recruits make less than $400 a year (though they also receive allowances), forcing many police officers to engage in corrupt practices just to scrape by. As part of an effort to address police corruption, President Buhari approved legislation to increase salaries earlier this month. Many Nigerians hope this salary increase will improve the quality of officers in the NPF, but for others, the police's lack of credibility reduces support for their salary increase. As for enhancement of police training, outside assistance is likely required. While in effect, U.S. law precludes our training of police, other partners of Nigeria, notably the British, have long been involved. That effort could be expanded, perhaps with indirect assistance from the United States.  There are numerous proposals for police reform in general circulation. One such reform, which has the support of some governors, is the creation of state police forces to replace or augment the NPF. In the north, vigilante groups, most notably members of the Civilian Joint Task Force, have an established presence in their communities and can be effective instruments of law enforcement, though they are not entirely accountable at present. There are calls for the regularization of their status, either into the army or the police. However, there appears to be little consensus among the Nigerian political class about such measures and are therefore probably too ambitious for an incoming administration. 

Across the country, Nigerians have seen an uptick in violent, ostensibly non-political, crime. Further, there is anecdotal evidence that crime has become more gratuitously violent. Nigerians are especially concerned about the upsurge in kidnapping, which affects an increasingly wide spectrum of the Nigerian population. In the past, kidnapping mostly occurred in the south and west of the country, but now, it has become national epidemic. In some parts of the country, kidnapping has become a business, with whispers of involvement by politicians and the police as well as entrepreneurs in it simply for the money. In the northeast and in the Delta, kidnapping has been used as a political weapon by dissidents. Boko Haram, for example, made headlines in April 2014 when it kidnapped 276 schoolgirls in Chibok, over one hundred of whom remain captive. Kidnappers had usually focused their attention on the rich and famous. Hours before the final group stage game in the 2018 World Cup, Mikel John Obi, the Nigerian national team’s captain, was informed that his father had been kidnapped and there was a ransom demand. Foreigners are prime targets, and have been targeted by pirates in the Gulf of Guinea, by militants in the oil patch, and by "common criminals" everywhere. But now, almost anybody who appears to have the most minimal of resources, or access to resources, can be a victim. A demoralized psyche has gripped the country, with many Nigerians living in fear of being kidnapped.  The police are constitutionally responsible for fighting domestic crime, including kidnapping, and the current crime wave with kidnapping undermines confidence in the government’s law enforcement capacity. Thus far, neither of the two leading candidates, President Muhammadu Buhari and contender and former Vice President Atiku Abubakar, has advanced substantial ideas to address what has become a ubiquitous crisis of governance. Instead, in the current presidential campaign, issue-drive debates have predominately focused on the economy. Yet, it goes without saying that without an effective security apparatus that can quash the kidnapping epidemic, economic development becomes exponentially more difficult.  

On November 18, an army base in Metele in northeastern Nigeria was reportedly overrun by Boko Haram militants. It is estimated that over one hundred soldiers were killed and significant military materiel looted. Nigerian soldiers reportedly made a video allegedly showing and narrating the aftermath of the attack. Much about the incident remains uncertain or disputed.  The video, less than five minutes in length, shows destroyed tanks and other military equipment, which the narrator of the video claims is inadequate and outdated. He claims this is true of most of the military equipment provided to Nigerian soldiers. Agence France Presse carries a description of the video, Premium Times features an interview with an alleged survivor of the attack, and Sahara TV (the broadcast outlet of Sahara Reporters, an expatriate Nigerian media outlet based in New York) has posted online what appears to be the video in question, or something similar. In a statement, the Nigerian military headquarters refers to multiple videos and characterizes them as “doctored,” “fake news,” and spurious. Its spokesman is threatening legal action against those who disseminate them and calls for public support of the military. Among other things, the military claims that a much smaller number of soldiers were killed at the Metele base than the one hundred or so claimed by the video and other reports. For many Nigerians, military pronouncements have little credibility after years of prevarication and false statements. President Muhammadu Buhari has expressed “shock” over the Metele incident, and has summoned his service chiefs to discuss the matter. Claims that the Buhari administration and the Nigerian military are inadequately equipping soldiers for the fight against Boko Haram are reminiscent of similar charges made against the Goodluck Jonathan presidential administration at the height of the Boko Haram insurgency between 2014 and 2015. Then, as now, Nigeria faced upcoming presidential elections, which Buhari would go on to win. He campaigned on a platform of tackling corruption and restoring security, and central to his campaign was the defeat of Boko Haram.  The apparent revival of Boko Haram therefore constitutes for President Buhari an electoral liability as well as added danger now faced by ordinary Nigerians in the northeast. Furthermore, according to officials from Niger, the terrorist group recently kidnapped around eighteen girls from two villages near the border with Nigeria. The episode recalls the Boko Haram kidnapping of school girls from Chibok in 2014, though the large-scale kidnapping of school girls has become a common feature of the Boko Haram insurgency. The failure of the Jonathan administration to provide adequately for the military was widely ascribed to corruption. President Buhari has launched a high-profile initiative against corruption, though many Nigerians see it as ineffective. Hence, the revival of Boko Haram and claims that the military is ill-provisioned may call to mind earlier allegations of the Jonathan government’s fecklessness and corruption that Buhari campaigned against. 

Federal investigators in Brazil have uncovered corruption at the highest levels of the government and in the country’s largest corporations.

Corruption has become a burning political issue in South Africa, particularly in the final years of Jacob Zuma’s abridged term in office. The faces of South Africa's Zuma-linked corruption were the three Gupta brothers: Ajay, Atul, and Rajesh. They immigrated from Uttar Pradesh in India in 1993, and the family has since become enormously rich; Ajay was commonly thought to be among the richest people in South Africa with a fortune of some $700 million. The Guptas were close to Zuma, whose son worked for them. They are accused of “state capture,” influence peddling, contract skimming, and numerous other white collar crimes.  For the past several months, the Zondo Commission has been investigating high-level corruption, including that allegedly perpetrated by the Gupta brothers. Amidst Zuma’s fall from power a house they owned was raided by police and warrants issued for their arrest. The Gupta brothers are currently based in Dubai. They have been at the center of controversy for many years, implicating in their alleged corruption consulting giants KPMG and McKinsey, and British public relations firm Bell Pottinger in 2017. Shortly thereafter, in October 2017, the Financial Times reported that the FBI had opened an investigation into the activities of the Gupta brothers’ nephews—American citizens living in Texas—and their links to the brothers. The UK government at the time was also probing ties to HSBC and Standard Chartered. The Guptas are declining to leave Dubai and return to South Africa to testify before the commission, but it is important to note that they have thus far been formally charged with little, convicted of nothing, and deny wrongdoing. Many or most South Africans believed that Zuma oversaw massive corruption as president, especially in state-owned enterprises. His administration is also judged by many as having badly managed the economy, in part because of personnel decisions influenced by outsiders for their own benefit. Zuma tried to move the government in an authoritarian direction, but he was largely blocked by the country’s independent judiciary, a lively parliamentary opposition, and a highly vocal civil society and free media. President Cyril Ramaphosa, then his deputy, successfully drove Zuma from office before the latter’s presidential term ended in the face of widespread popular distaste for Zuma and his association with corruption. Nevertheless, Zuma retains significant political support within the ANC, among the rural poor, and especially among his fellow Zulus, who are about a quarter of South Africa’s population.  Ramaphosa reportedly was initially reluctant for the commission to go ahead, but, in the end, he had no choice because of various judicial rulings and parliamentary pressure. Once the commission began its work, Ramaphosa’s allies (and perhaps Ramaphosa himself) hoped that the commission would illustrate that the ANC could clean up its own house. Instead, according to critics in the media, the commission has shown that corruption was pervasive within the party. It is too soon to say what the impact of the investigations into the Guptas and corruption elsewhere will be on the national elections, likely to take place in the first half of 2019. Though it is changing slowly, up to now, voting has largely been along racial lines. The ANC is officially "multiracial,” but it has been the party of choice for the eighty percent of the population that is black and mostly poor, and therefore, since 1994, has dominated the country’s politics. Even if the commission's findings do not translate into opposition votes, it will promote government transparency and the rule of law. 

A growing number of actors have joined the fight against dirty money. The success of global efforts to combat illicit financial flows, however, remains uncertain. 

On October 9, President Cyril Ramaphosa accepted the resignation of Nhlanhla Nene as finance minister. Critics are accusing Nene of lying about the frequency of his contacts with the notorious Gupta family, which is now being investigated for “state capture.” He is also accused of somehow facilitating a deal involving his son, a Mozambican refinery, and a state financing agency. For his part, Nene has apologized for understating the number and location of his meetings with the Guptas, but has denied any involvement in his son’s businesses. He has been not been charged with any wrongdoing so far.  While finance minister under former President Jacob Zuma, Nene countered successfully the erstwhile president’s efforts with the Guptas to fund a poorly conceived nuclear power initiative—from which it is likely they would have personally benefited. Further, Nene has provided devastating testimony about Zuma and the Guptas before the current Judicial Commission of Inquiry into State Capture, known as the Zondo Commission. Nene was regarded as a “white hat” during the dark days of Zuma's administration, and was eventually fired in 2015. But Ramaphosa’s enemies within the ANC, as well as in the opposition Democratic Alliance (DA) and Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), put intense political pressure on Nene to go once he acknowledged the full extent of his meeting with the Guptas. It is unclear what effect this will have on the ANC’s chances in the upcoming elections. Ramaphosa has launched an initiative, “New Dawn,” that looks to rejuvenate South Africa’s economy and clean up corruption within the ANC and state-owned enterprises. He is arguing to the electorate that the ANC is able to “self-correct,” and Nene’s departure strengthens this position. The DA and the EFF counter, arguing that there is no “good” ANC and “bad” ANC, but only one ANC, and that it should be voted out of power. The accusations against Nene would appear politically to have undercut the credibility of Ramaphosa’s anti-corruption policies, even though Nene’s sins appear venial, if indeed they exist at all. Ramaphosa also faces opposition within the ANC. Zuma still has supporters within the party, reflecting at least in part his success in building patronage networks. Some of them stand to lose from Ramaphosa’s anitcorruption drive, and they likely applauded Nene’s departure. In Nene's place, Ramaphosa appointed Tito Mboweni as the new finance minister. He was the first black governor of the South African Reserve Bank, holding the post from 1999 to 2009. During his tenure, he increased South Africa’s reserves from $10 billion to $40 billion. He later worked for Goldman Sachs and served on various corporate boards. He is not expected to change Nene’s policies significantly, and business confidence in him is reflected in the recovery of the Rand after falling with Nene’s departure. Although Mboweni apparently supported Ramaphosa’s chief rival, Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, in the 2017 ANC leadership race, his presence in the cabinet is likely to strengthen Ramaphosa’s hand.  The Nene episode shows that Ramaphosa takes seriously attacks on the credibility of his reform program, especially as the elections draw nearer. Nene, a reformer himself, likely did not want to jeopardize Ramaphosa's efforts against corruption. Hence his resignation. (Especially under Zuma, ministers were fired rather than resigning.) Ramaphosa may well bring Nene back into his administration after the elections conclude.