Fruit of the Poisoned Tree: A Brief Account of Aid and Charity in Africa

“Foreign aid as an instrument of development must be accepted as ‘tried and failed’”, says Olusegun Obasanjo. Aid, the former Nigerian president continues, “has been more of a disincentive to development in most cases. No wonder people in developing countries are asking for trade and investment rather than aid” (Daily Maverick, 2022).

Obasanjo’s comments reflect a growing critique of the Western paradigm of development assistance across Africa. Over $1.2 trillion of development assistance has been poured into the continent in the last 30 years, twice that if you include unofficial charitable giving. Yet, in that same time frame, sub-Saharan Africa’s average per capita income changed by just $352, and the continent’s share of global income has been falling steadily since mid-2000. These are troubling numbers and are part of why more and more Africans are asking if there is another way (Daily Maverick, 2022).

Providing aid to impoverished countries traces its origins back to the nineteenth century. Notable examples emerged in the 1920s and 1930s as affluent nations such as Germany, France, and the UK extended consistent assistance to their colonies, including financial resources to construct vital infrastructure such as ports, roads, and railways. However, foreign aid, characterised by the formal transfer of concessional resources aimed at catalysing enduring positive transformations, particularly poverty alleviation, in recipient countries, is a relatively contemporary paradigm in international state relations. The post-World War II era heralded the emergence of foreign economic assistance on a new scale, underscored by initiatives like US aid to Greece and Turkey and the Marshall Plan’s drive for European recovery.

In the 1940s, the apparatus of a multilateral development aid system was formed as victorious nations (known as Allied powers) came together to address post-war devastation and promote global stability (Browne, 1997). Three key international institutions were established during this tumultuous period, each with a specific mandate. First, the United Nations allowed the Allies to collaborate to maintain global peace after the war. Second, the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA), created in 1943, focused on addressing the human impact of conflict in Europe. This agency, a precursor to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF), exemplified the earliest form of aid efforts. Third, the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (World Bank) commenced its operations in Europe, extending its initial loans by 1946.

By 1965, numerous industrialised countries had instituted aid programmes, complemented by substantial aid management from institutions like the United Nations or the World Bank. The 1970s witnessed an influx of public aid donors, encompassing petroleum-producing states, followed by the resurgence of aid initiatives from former socialist bloc countries and those integrating into the European Union or the OECD. Intriguingly, global assistance has since expanded further as ‘developing countries’ like China, India, Korea, Turkey, and the Gulf States actively engage in aid-giving endeavours, amplifying the diversity of the aid landscape.

By virtue of its historical roots, foreign aid is inevitably rooted in the paternalistic attitudes of the colonial administration of overseas territories and is characterised by charity. By contrast, the approach to aid practised by Nordic countries was largely driven by humanitarian concerns. Perhaps not insignificantly, Nordic countries, apart from Denmark, did not have colonial empires.

Charity is an age-old practice rooted in benevolent actions and the voluntary giving of resources, often directed towards aiding the less fortunate or supporting societal well-being. With deep religious foundations, charity has been a central tenet in various faiths and spiritual traditions, typifying the ideals of compassion, selflessness, and empathy. In Christianity, for instance, charity, known as “Caritas” or “Agape,” emphasises selfless love and care for others. Similarly, Islam promotes “Zakat” and “Sadaqat”, obligatory and voluntary forms of giving, while other religions underscore the importance of aiding those in need.

Moral justifications for charity emanate from the ethical imperative to alleviate suffering, promote social cohesion, and cultivate a sense of community connection. Often framed as a duty incumbent upon individuals or societies, charity addresses inequality, provides for basic needs, and fosters a sense of collective responsibility. It bridges gaps in access to resources and opportunities, helping restore dignity and quality of life for marginalised individuals and groups.

These ideals of charity have been absorbed into the definitions of aid to developing countries. Thus, concepts of compassion, altruism, and societal welfare have indelibly shaped the approach to international assistance. As such, aid has evolved from being predominantly motivated by political and strategic considerations during the colonial era to encompass humanitarian and ethical dimensions.

This fusion of religion, charity, and development aid is evident in the 0.7 per cent aid pledge by OECD countries to spend that portion of their Gross National Income (GNI) on Official Development Assistance (ODA). This pledge, which is consistently reiterated in development discourse and acclaimed by aid defenders as the epitome of a moral obligation (Sachs, 2006), was originally proposed in 1958 by the World Council of Churches as 1.0 per cent and has its roots in the biblical tenet of tithing.

Beyond addressing immediate material needs, charity also resonates with the notion of improving the overall human condition, fostering a sense of shared destiny, and promoting a harmonious coexistence founded on principles of empathy and solidarity. This is a stance that is more aligned with the style of aid that was being promoted by Nordic countries, which included a focus on basic needs, including health, education, sanitation, and clean water that embody the essence of dignified living and social justice.

By prioritising basic needs within aid frameworks, international actors believed they could mitigate immediate hardships and lay the foundation for sustainable development and human progress.

This shift towards humanitarian-focused aid gained momentum after Robert McNamara assumed leadership of the World Bank in 1968. He advocated for donor-funded initiatives that addressed fundamental human needs such as health, education, water, and sanitation. By the late 1960s, given the growing awareness of persistent poverty in aid-receiving nations, a reassessment of the impact of aid on people’s lives became unavoidable. It was becoming clear to many that the global aid industry shackles aid-dependent nations, keeping them perpetually reliant on the generosity of the wealthy.

The 1980s saw the landscape shift once more as the concept of addressing basic needs gave way to a focus on economic restructuring and policy reform. This change could be attributed to the global recession stemming from the 1970s oil shock. Developing nations burdened by debt received financial assistance from donor countries, but this was tied to economic restructuring and reduced social service spending, a strategy known as structural adjustment, which will be covered in more detail below. This perpetuated rather than alleviated poverty and inequality in these nations.

The shift away from a focus on basic needs in foreign aid was given momentum by two World Bank economists, Paul Collier and David Dollar, who proposed a new ethical focus on “duties of rescue”, highlighting mutual efficiency, results, and “aid effectiveness” (Collier, 2016; Collier & Dollar, 2002). However, this approach oversimplified the intricate ethical considerations in aid, particularly regarding long-term development, cultural context, power dynamics, and the importance of providing alternative strategies beyond immediate relief. For example, Collier and Dollar’s emphasis on tax-financed aid overlooked the contributions of diverse actors, particularly domestic ones, and their historical analysis disregarded complex geopolitical and economic influences.

While the ideas of Collier and Dollar provoked critical thought, the implementation of these has been ineffective with unintended consequences. In the case of Nigeria, despite significant financial support, pervasive corruption persisted within the government, undermining the intended impact of aid. Similarly, in Zimbabwe, substantial aid inflows often bypassed local communities due to ineffective distribution channels, hindering the prospects of sustainable development at the grassroots level. The timing for introducing this new approach was also quite peculiar as it has come to the rescue of well-crafted and policy-focused structural adjustment programmes (SAPs) that had delivered meagre results.

Furthermore, a comprehensive ethical framework for aid encompassing a broader spectrum of perspectives, addressing urgent humanitarian crises and systemic factors perpetuating global poverty, is still lacking (Collier & Dollar, 2002).

While Collier and Dollar’s principles were supposed to enhance coordination, ownership, and accountability among donors and recipients, they often failed to account for differing national priorities, political dynamics, and contexts. As often happens in these situations, poor results were blamed on the recipients of aid, with very much the same logic as the beneficiary of charity being blamed for not improving his or her condition. The idea behind aid effectiveness revolved around rewarding “good performers”, namely, those nations that meticulously adhered to the extensive conditionality list outlined by Bretton Woods institutions. This approach implied that only countries aligning with the stringent conditions established by donors were deemed deserving of rewards.

An unintended consequence of results-based management and quantifiable outcomes has been a narrow focus on short-term indicators, neglecting the complexity of long-term development. Additionally, the push for aid harmonisation and alignment with recipient country systems undermined local ownership and perpetuated power imbalances between donors and recipients. The call for reducing aid fragmentation overlooked the importance of diverse approaches and perspectives, stifling innovation and adaptability.

Lancaster (2009) highlights a fundamental challenge in assessing the impact of aid on development: aid is frequently driven by purposes beyond development itself. Donor governments often use aid to achieve diplomatic, commercial, or cultural objectives abroad, making it difficult to disentangle these motives.

Some argue that an honest discussion needs to be had upfront about whether aid is benign. In too many cases, the proclaimed intentions of the donor can mask underlying political or economic motivations for dispensing aid (Fukuda-Parr et al., 2002). The truth is that the multifaceted nature of aid-giving involves mixed motivations, of which development is just one aspect. Various countries allocate aid for diplomatic, commercial, and cultural reasons, reflecting different geopolitical ambitions and domestic political influences. The intricate interplay between domestic politics, international opportunities, and challenges shapes the motivations behind aid-giving, underscoring the complexity inherent in understanding the aid process.

While there needs to be more evaluation regarding aid’s effectiveness in achieving these diverse goals, assessing aid based solely on its development outcomes is also unjust. Despite our knowledge of aid’s successes and failures, it remains challenging to judge whether aid has effectively promoted development and alleviated poverty and to what extent (Lancaster, 2009).

The notion of human development, along with its associated index, cultivated and propagated by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) primarily through its annual Human Development Reports (1990), was an indirect response to the need to re-centre the discussion about development away from aid or its supposed effectiveness.

Initially, a significant component of this counter-discourse challenged the prevailing viewpoint linked to the Bretton Woods institutions. Subsequently, shifts in the policies and perspectives of the UNDP and the World Bank have occurred, leading to substantial elaborations on this concept by both bureaucratic and academic actors. A comprehensive scrutiny of this transformative process was written by McNeill (2008), with his insights drawn from prior investigations into influential development policy ideas, such as ‘social capital’, suggesting that the ‘human development’ concept demonstrated comparatively more resilience.

Pioneered by Mahbub Ul Haq and Amartya Sen (UNDP, 1990), the human development framework has sparked heightened interest in academic research and policy initiatives. It has elucidated the nuanced relationship between institutional flexibility and scholarly investigation, shedding light on how the adaptability and responsiveness of institutions can significantly impact the evolving landscape of knowledge production. The intricate dynamics revealed underscore the crucial interdependence between institutional frameworks and the pursuit of knowledge, showcasing how adaptable and supportive structures can foster a more robust and dynamic scholarly environment.

Within the intricate tapestry of the dialogue, a collective whisper arose, unveiling a shared realisation that a crucial element in the machinery of progress had been overlooked. Like harmonising notes, voices united to echo the sentiment that an unnoticed discord—perhaps stemming from unaddressed challenges or overlooked complexities—had crept in, casting a subtle but impactful shadow on the collective pursuit of advancement.

One such voice was William Easterly (2006). In his notable critique of the development aid discourse, he drew inspiration from Rudyard Kipling’s poem “The White Man’s Burden”. Originally penned by the British novelist and poet in February 1899, this poem urged the United States to take on the mantle of empire-building, following in the footsteps of Britain and other European nations. While Kipling’s poem may have lacked poetic excellence, Theodore Roosevelt, on the cusp of assuming the vice presidency and later the presidency, acknowledged its insightful perspective on territorial expansion (SHEC, 2023).

Easterly’s influential work “The White Man’s Burden: Why the West’s Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good” (2006) levelled a series of compelling critiques against traditional development aid. One fundamental critique revolves around the lack of accountability and participation inherent in top-down aid approaches. Easterly argued that aid efforts driven by large organisations and governments often fail to incorporate local input, leading to a disconnect between the intended goals of aid and the actual needs of the recipients. Moreover, he emphasised the need for more clarity of incentives within aid organisations, where focusing on securing funding and demonstrating quick results can overshadow the pursuit of meaningful and sustainable development outcomes. He believed this had fostered a cycle of dependency on aid rather than encouraging self-sufficiency.

Easterly’s criticism extended to the complexity and bureaucracy of aid mechanisms. He suggested that the convoluted processes within aid organisations have hindered efficient resource allocation and timely project execution. He also questioned the short-term orientation of aid efforts, highlighting the necessity of addressing underlying systemic issues to achieve lasting development. Additionally, he underscored the significance of local entrepreneurship and market forces in the development equation, advocating for an approach that empowers local actors and institutions rather than imposing external solutions. In essence, Easterly’s critiques centred on the need for a more flexible, context-sensitive, and market-driven approach to development aid, urging a departure from conventional practices in favour of strategies that prioritise the genuine well-being and self-determination of recipient communities (Easterly, 2006).

Charitable Shift: A Double-Edged Sword

As those working in development aid grappled with missed targets and subpar results, as highlighted by Easterly’s critiques, charity-based approaches made something of a comeback even as SAPs were gaining ground. In this evolving landscape, initiatives like Live Aid and Band Aid gained prominence in the 1980s as tangible demonstrations of global concern for Africa’s plight. These high-profile events, characterised by star-studded concerts and impassioned pleas for aid, showcased the humanitarian impulse to alleviate suffering on the continent.

For most African countries, the shift back to charity-based approaches represented a double-edged sword. On the one hand, these initiatives helped raise much-needed funds to address development gaps on the continent. On the other hand, these spectacles of charity inadvertently perpetuated a diminishing and degrading view of Africa, reinforcing a stigmatised image of perpetual misery and an inability to address its challenges independently. By presenting Africa as a helpless victim needing external rescue and projecting an image of the continent solely through the lens of suffering and dependence, these initiatives reinforced a perception of Africa as inherently incapable of self-sufficiency.

This framing had profound implications. It further entrenched the notion that Africa was defined by its inability to overcome its challenges without the benevolent intervention of external actors. Moreover, the emphasis on immediate relief diverted attention from the structural reforms and required capacity development, perpetuating a cycle of dependency and disempowerment. Africans were continually denied agency in their development trajectories.

These trends continued into the millennium, which witnessed the birth of an inspiring dream as the United Nations set forth ambitious Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) with a vision to eradicate poverty, promote equality, and attain sustainable peace. However, the subsequent narrative associated with the MDGs has been marked by missed targets and a glaring absence of accountability, as exemplified by unmet goals accepted by donor countries in the frame of this new compact. The response to these shortcomings saw the rise of yet more charitable endeavours like ‘Live 8’ concerts and activism, driving public awareness and philanthropy.

Aid strategies continue to evolve in line with the slow transition from colonialist undertones to market-oriented approaches. However, this evolution brought complex challenges and critiques. SAPs designed to induce comprehensive reforms faced scepticism and yielded mixed results, especially in Africa, where negative or stagnant ODA growth was observed. Within these dynamics, the paradox of intent versus outcomes surfaced, prompting a re-evaluation not just of Collier and Dollar’s (2002) effectiveness mantra but also of the aid approach itself, shifting the focus from its policies and utilisation to broader scrutiny of its overall efficacy. The onus to demonstrate efficacy, previously laid at the aid recipients’ door, gradually shifted towards the providers. This meant donors had to become more transparent about their intent, exposing their possible hypocrisy.

Another layer of complexity was added as the deficiencies of globalisation converged with discussions on climate inaction and the crisis of environmental rejuvenation. In Africa, the examination of charity-inspired approaches took on an intellectual dimension. Observing the advancements achieved by other regions, a tangible sense of frustration emerged in Africa for constantly being perceived as the ‘last resort’ guinea pig for various experiments. It was felt that the unique and often overlooked challenges Africa faces while navigating developmental strategies were being overlooked.

Neglecting to address inequality as an incidental outcome of progress in diverse global development benchmarks carried noteworthy consequences, especially when considering the specific circumstances within the African context. This oversight not only hindered the accurate assessment of developmental success but also perpetuated disparities, impeding the region’s journey towards sustainable and inclusive progress. Failing to recognise and rectify these inequalities hampered the effectiveness of development efforts and underscored the importance of a more nuanced and context-specific approach to ensure equitable and lasting advancements in Africa.

Thomas Piketty offers some insights on how such inequalities could be addressed. In his seminal work, “Capital in the 21st Century” (2013), Piketty unveils the critical relationship between the after-tax rate of return on capital and economic growth. When capital’s rate of return surpasses economic growth, holders of capital accumulate wealth over time while income from labour grows more slowly. Stark inequality is the result. This unequal distribution of wealth, Piketty contends, catalyses societal and economic disruptions. To mitigate this, Piketty advocates for progressive wealth taxation, offering a solution to curbing inequality and preventing excessive wealth concentration among a minute minority.

Piketty’s key findings underscore the universal nature of the elevation of the wealth-to-income ratio in developed countries. The so-called Old-World nations exhibit a distinct U-shaped pattern; they reach remarkable heights in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, then plummet during the mid-twentieth century, and resurge significantly from 1980. This trend is observable beyond Anglo-Saxon economies, such as the United States and Canada, extending to nations like France and Italy, where sluggish economic growth intensifies wealth accumulation.

In light of this, Piketty highlights the potency of augmenting economic growth and proposes nuanced approaches to wealth redistribution. This includes considering alternatives to broad wealth taxes, such as targeted land taxation and intellectual property (IP) reform. Notably, Piketty emphasises the resilience of land and resources, noting that rigorous taxation would not eliminate them. At the same time, IP reforms could limit the value of patents, including drug patents, and lower consumer costs.

It is worth noting that while an IMF working paper initially contested Piketty’s claims, subsequent discussions within the IMF, just before the 2017 IMF/World Bank Spring Meetings, acknowledged the imperative of fiscal policies to tackle inequality (Goes, 2016; Gaspar et al., 2017). Recognising that a one-size-fits-all strategy is inadequate, the need for tailored redistributive measures considering a nation’s specific circumstances, fiscal pressures, social preferences, and administrative capacities is finally being acknowledged (Gaspar et al., 2017). This discourse underscores the complexity of addressing the intricate challenge of wealth inequality.

Mind the Gap: The Compensation Debate

The profound historical injustices endured by nations subjected to enslavement, resource exploitation, and marginalisation have, in recent times, led to increasing calls for the need for compensation and reparations. Colonised countries played an involuntary role in the advancement of others, contributing to their development while suffering enduring disparities themselves. The same nations now bear the brunt of inequality and climate change despite having made minimal contributions to its onset. The ethical imperative behind the compensation debate lies in rectifying historical wrongs, acknowledging historical responsibility, fostering global equity, and recognising that addressing climate vulnerability is a shared responsibility for the common good.

Historical evidence underscores the significance of compensation in addressing historical—and economic—wrongs. For example, after World War II, Germany was required to provide reparations to countries like Greece and Poland. These reparations aimed to alleviate the economic devastation caused by the war, acknowledging the financial toll on the affected nations.

In the realm of colonial restitution, the Belgian government’s acknowledgement of and compensation for its role in the exploitation of the Congo during the colonial era stands out. This compensation reflects an attempt to address the economic ramifications of historical injustices, including resource extraction and economic exploitation, and provides a tangible means of rectifying economic imbalances resulting from colonial practices. Italy also provided compensation to Libya following its colonial rule. In 2008, Italy formally apologised and agreed to a compensation package for the atrocities committed during the colonial period. This compensation represented a recognition of the economic impact of colonisation on Libya, including issues such as forced labour and the seizure of resources.

In the context of climate change, the principle of common but differentiated responsibilities (CBDR) further amplifies the case for compensation. CBDR recognises that while all nations share a collective obligation to combat climate change, developed nations, which have historically contributed the most to carbon emissions and benefited from industrialisation, bear a heightened responsibility to support vulnerable and less developed nations (Tandon, 2008).

The principle is well recognised, for example, in the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), which recognises that developed countries have a historical responsibility to compensate developing countries for the loss and damage they (the developed countries) have caused to the environment during their period of industrialisation (Tandon, 2008). This historical responsibility is reflected in the UNFCCC’s treaty provisions that oblige developed countries to provide new and additional financial flows (as well as technology transfers) to developing countries to support the latter’s costs for implementing the objectives of the UNFCCC for mitigation and climate adaptation (Tandon, 2008).

Compensation is imperative due to the ecological repercussions of the former’s industrialisation endeavours. However, it is noteworthy that there are significant discrepancies between the manifestation of this historical responsibility and the fulfilment of treaty commitments. This underscores the prevailing lacunae in addressing climate-induced exigencies. This disjuncture between rhetorical acknowledgement and pragmatic implementation becomes increasingly conspicuous when juxtaposed with the principle of CBDR, which serves as the fundamental tenet delineating the nuanced responsibilities between developed and developing nations, reflecting their distinct historical trajectories and varying degrees of contribution to the prevailing climate predicament.

Beyond the climate context, such compensatory financial obligations find parallels in contemporary negotiations between the ACP nations and the EU concerning Economic Partnership Agreements (EPAs), as explained in a different chapter of this book.

The profound structural entanglements arising from centuries of historical interaction cannot be readily disentangled within a few decades, thus warranting a just transition facilitated by compensatory mechanisms. The notion of “deeply embedded imbalanced structured relationships” (Tandon, 2008) evokes a poignant reminder that rectifying such intricate historical injustices demands a robust commitment to redressal. This commitment extends beyond immediate economic considerations, intertwining with the imperative of fostering self-sufficiency and a well-crafted exit strategy from the quagmire of aid dependency.

In the global public goods (GPGs) realm, the discourse resonates with the prevailing crises of our era—ranging from climate change mitigation to infectious disease control. The intrinsic interconnectedness of these challenges mandates a collaborative ethos that transcends geopolitical divides and historical imbalances. GPGs embody this universal interdependence, necessitating concerted efforts from all nations, irrespective of their developmental standing (Kaul, 2022).

The current landscape is marked by a disconcerting disjuncture between the theoretical commitments to GPGs and their operational realisation. This chasm, emblematic of institutional inertia, underscores the imperative of recalibrating the working mechanisms of international cooperation. As Inge Kaul (2022) aptly articulates, this recalibration should encapsulate a profound understanding of the intertwined nature of ‘global’ and ‘good’ within the GPG framework. The global implications of these goods, transcending territorial confines and temporal boundaries, necessitate a collaborative ethos that supersedes the conventional norms of international interaction.

In essence, the convergence of historical responsibilities, justice, and equity is pivotal in navigating the complex terrain of compensatory finance, ensuring the restitution of historical imbalances, and facilitating the transformational adaptation necessary to address contemporary challenges.

Getting Beyond ‘Good Governance’ and Why That Matters

Good governance is a cornerstone of the Western paradigm of developmental assistance. Aid effectiveness principles have influenced the emphasis on good governance in ODA, which is intertwined with efforts to combat corruption and instigate policy reforms. However, this framework of good governance falls short of fully embracing structural transformation. Instead, it tends to create the perception that unsuccessful outcomes are primarily the result of the recipients’ deficiency in good governance rather than acknowledging broader systemic issues within global governance.

Daron Acemoglu and Robinson (2012), a prominent economist and scholar, has put forth several key ideas regarding governance, particularly in economic development. He is known for his nuanced critiques of the World Bank’s positions on good governance.

The World Bank defines good governance as the exercise of power in managing a country’s economic and social resources. This definition encompasses the processes through which decisions are made, policies are implemented, and resources are allocated. Good governance is characterised by transparency, accountability, participation, inclusiveness, and the rule of law. It implies effective, efficient, and equitable use of resources to achieve sustainable development and improve the welfare of all citizens. The World Bank recognises that good governance is essential for reducing poverty, promoting economic growth, and ensuring the effective delivery of public services (Acemoglu & Robinson, 2012).

Acemoglu and Robinson’s work delves into the relationship between political power and socioeconomic dynamics to highlight how those in authority often design institutions to serve their own interests, establishing either extractive or inclusive systems. His analysis challenges the notion that external interventions, such as the World Bank’s ‘good governance’ framework, can bring about meaningful and lasting governance reform. Additionally, it underscores the concept of path dependence, illustrating how historical trajectories and initial institutional choices can have enduring effects on a country’s development (Acemoglu & Robinson, 2012).

While acknowledging the importance of inclusive and accountable institutions for sustainable development, Acemoglu contends that the World Bank’s emphasis on select parameters such as anti-corruption measures and property rights protection oversimplifies the intricate web of institutional dynamics that shape governance outcomes. He argues that this approach fails to address the underlying complexities of governance challenges, emphasising that genuine and lasting institutional change cannot be externally imposed. Acemoglu’s perspective emphasises the necessity of locally driven reforms that consider historical, cultural, and social nuances unique to each nation. By highlighting the political economy of institutions, the concept of path dependence, and the multifaceted nature of governance transformation, Acemoglu asserts that addressing systemic issues and power dynamics is crucial for meaningful improvements in governance and, ultimately, for achieving equitable and prosperous development.

In “Good governance is a bad idea”, Katharina Pistor (2023) takes this further, arguing that the traditional emphasis on good governance as the critical solution for economic growth and development is flawed and has, in fact, evolved into an existential threat. Pistor contends that the good-governance agenda, though centred on procedural fairness and efficient decision-making, has overshadowed substantive outcomes, often favouring appearances over actual results. This has, in turn, crowded out outcome-driven political action and hindered efforts to address complex social and environmental challenges. Pistor (2023) illustrates that the climate crisis underscores the shortcomings of this approach, as indicators and labels dominate climate policy discussions while failing to yield tangible results. She asserts that accurate solutions require a shift from mere compliance and adhering to superficial checkboxes to tackling problems at their roots and engaging in power struggles. She also highlights the urgency of focusing on actual actions and systemic change rather than bureaucratic measures.

The fight against corruption is usually on the good governance checklists. Indeed, the obsession with corruption in Africa has become central in the development aid narratives and the business language of crucial actors such as investment advisors or rating agencies. It is a fact that African countries systematically rank poorly in an array of corruption-related indexes.

The landscape of corruption measurement is characterised by publicly accessible corruption indexes, encompassing approximately 140 data sets that scrutinise corruption across developing countries (Ganahl, 2013). Prominent among these are indexes like the International Country Risk Guide (ICRG) (Ganahl, 2013), Business International (now incorporated into The Economist Intelligence Unit) (EIU, 2022), Freedom House’s “Freedom in the World” publication (Freedom House, 2023), Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) (TIZ, 2022), and the World Bank’s Country Policy and Institutions Assessments (CPIAs) (World Bank, 2023) and KKZ or KKM indicators (Kaufmann et al., 1999).

An evaluation presented by Arndt and Oman (2006), articulated through the OECD Development Centre, unveils these assessments’ convoluted nature and constraints. Their analysis spotlights how difficult it is to gauge corruption’s multifaceted dimensions. It also facilitates cross-country comparisons and discerns evolving trends over time. Arndt and Oman’s perspective further underscores concerns about the quality and utility of these indexes, prompting reflections on their inherent subjectivity and potential for misinterpretation by the business and donor communities.

The common thread running through these critiques is that governance discourse must evolve beyond the corruption rhetoric and assume an added complexity.

African leaders often parrot the traditional narratives around corruption and good governance to gain favour and recognition with international partners. Abdulrahman and Abraham (2016) point out parallels between how the AU and EU speak about these challenges despite a temporal gap of half a century, revealing an underlying continuity in governance paradigms. This alignment became even more evident following the dissolution of the Organization of African Unity (OAU) and the creation of the AU, with aspirations for heightened intra-African economic activities, political stability, continental unity, and global visibility.

In parallel, while the EU’s governance ideals are intertwined with concepts of democracy and good governance, the difficulty of translating these ideals into tangible compacts and agreements, such as the Lomé and Cotonou agreements, illustrates that aspirational rhetoric alone is not enough. Abdulrahman and Abraham’s analysis underscores the challenge of bridging the gap between principles and pragmatic execution, highlighting the intricacies of transforming moral superiority into practical, actionable governance frameworks.

In Africa, the governance theme needs to extend beyond corruption, good-governance measurements, or EU-Africa agreement dynamics to encompass broader issues, such as the global dialogue on illicit financial flows (Lopes & Oliveira, 2021). This topic introduces another layer of complexity, as the movement of illegal funds across borders further underscores the intricate interplay between lofty ideals and the multifaceted realities of effective governance implementation.

In sum, the post-colonial era has witnessed a continuation of colonial attributes and models, albeit repackaged with seemingly inoffensive terms like good governance and democracy. However, the appropriation of these concepts within a neoliberal framework has undermined the sovereignty of African countries. As highlighted by Rob de Vos in “Europe, Africa and Aid: Towards a Genuine Partnership” (as cited by Adebajo & Whiteman, 2012), these terminologies have been wielded as subtle tools of influence, perpetuating power imbalances and maintaining a façade of cooperation.

The persistence of these dynamics is evidenced in the EU-Africa dialogue, where a lack of clear and robust leadership on the African side has often led to perceptions of evasiveness and unpreparedness. This has been particularly evident in negotiations surrounding economic partnership agreements. Despite the optimistic prospects presented by initiatives like the New Partnership for Africa’s Development (NEPAD) and the African Peer Review Mechanism (APRM), the relationship between Europe and Africa remains multifaceted, extending far beyond financial aid. Consequently, there is a growing call for a more discerning approach to aid acceptance, selective engagement, and a nuanced understanding of African societies to guide European decision-making.

Considering the intricacies surrounding aid effectiveness and the broader EU-Africa partnership, both parties must adopt a more pragmatic and informed approach. The current donor-recipient architecture, as outlined by de Vos in the book by Adebajo and Whiteman (2012), is marked by complexity and wasteful duplication of efforts.

Accepting the need for comprehensive knowledge about the functioning of African societies, European leaders should strive to grasp the nuances of power relations and societal dynamics. This understanding is essential to curbing premature disillusionment and misconceptions.

Simultaneously, Africa must cultivate its analytical capacity to think critically and evaluate its circumstances independently. While external support and knowledge dissemination play a role, the continent must take ownership of its development narrative. The EU and Africa should heed the call to relinquish grand scenarios and unrealistic commitments, focusing instead on pragmatic goals that can be achieved within a foreseeable timeframe. Such an approach, rooted in mutual respect and genuine partnership, holds the potential to dismantle the vestiges of colonial legacies and empower both regions to work together to address the complex challenges the planet is facing.