WASHINGTON — Nigeria is arguably the worst run of the world’s seven most
populated countries. Despite earning hundreds of billions of dollars in
oil revenue over the past decade, it is expected by 2015, by some
calculations, to have the second-most destitute people in the world
after India. But its largest city, Lagos, which until recently was known
as one of the world’s most difficult cities to govern, seems to have
turned a corner.
Even though it remains a slum-ridden and largely
impoverished metropolis, with an exploding population estimated at 21
million (of Nigeria’s 170 million people), it has seen steady
improvement in its governance for over a decade. The government has
enhanced public transportation, cleaned up streets, upgraded the
business environment and bettered the lives of its inhabitants.
So
Nigeria, of all places, may be pointing the way to a strategy by which
fragile states might begin to succeed: Devolve more power to cities from
their corrupt and overcentralized national governments. At least in
democracies, the cities have promise because their elected politicians
face pressure to deliver specific services to their constituents. In the
central governments, which are more remote, there is too much power and
wealth to be grabbed by dysfunctional politicians and their cronies,
and too little direct accountability.
The emergence of fragile
states is one of the world’s most pressing problems. Such states, which
include Nigeria, Iraq and Yemen, contain a rising number of the world’s
poor (half of the world’s people who live on less than $1.25 a day will
be in fragile states by 2015, according to the Organization for Economic
Cooperation and Development) and contribute disproportionately to the
world’s instability and terrorism. They have become a major focus of
international aid efforts, but it has proved very difficult to improve
governance there.
The turnaround in Lagos can be traced to 1999,
when Nigeria returned to democracy and the city began holding regular
elections. For the first time since independence, Lagos was able to
re-elect its own leaders, or turn them out of office. And while national
elections became a mud fight between elites to control the state’s
enormous oil wealth, local contests forced candidates to show pragmatism
and competence.
Citizens in densely populated cities find it
easier to organize themselves. And in an ethnically and religiously
diverse metropolis like Lagos, politicians could not afford to pit
ethnic and religious groups against one another, a problem that has long
bedeviled Nigeria. Simple geography also helped the city
administration. The powerful and wealthy classes are more likely to
insist on better governance when their own neighborhoods are affected.
And
unlike national politicians, local leaders know that the better they
perform, the more money their city nets. The better its roads, schools
and business environment, the more likely companies will pay taxes, and
individuals will buy goods and services, which also contribute to the
tax base. At the national level, by contrast, the great majority of the
central government’s income has little to do with government’s
performance, since about 75 percent of the national budget comes from
the $50 billion a year that Nigeria collects in oil revenue.
Can
Lagos really save Nigeria? Alone, it’s unlikely — one factor is that the
country’s population is expected to continue mushrooming to 400 million
by mid-century — but Lagos can now be the model for transferring more
authority to other cities, such as Ibadan, Kano and Benin City. And
they, in turn, could help to shift the polarized national politics that
produce the same cadre of unaccountable elites year after year.
For
example, if local politicians were better able to raise and regulate
local taxes, they would find themselves more accountable to the
population. And they would presumably establish a more welcoming local
environment for business to flourish, and perhaps start a nationwide
chain reaction unleashing the country’s famous entrepreneurialism. If
income levels rose, education and a rising middle class might follow.
Greater affluence and aspiration, in turn, tend to act as a useful brake
on population growth.
Elsewhere, other cities offer a similar
lesson. In Medellín, Colombia, the city government outshone the national
government in the late 1990s by setting up a network of publicly funded
business support centers, investing strategically in transportation and
security, and introducing its own program of cash grants to help the
poor. Cities such as Chennai and Hyderabad in India have similarly
outperformed India’s national government in promoting growth, educating
children and reducing crime and poverty.
Can this model hold out
hope for other fragile states? Countries such as the Democratic Republic
of Congo, Pakistan and Kenya all suffer from weak and dysfunctional
governments, but have cities that could be the basis for a similar model
of development. Regular local elections could spur significant changes
in Kinshasa, Karachi and Nairobi, respectively, if the cities were
granted more autonomy and the tax base was broadened to make government
more dependent on local citizens and companies.
Almost half of
the developing world’s population now lives in cities, and rapid
urbanization is expected to increase this proportion to two-thirds
within a few decades, according to the United Nations Department of
Economic and Social Affairs. The city is now the main driver of growth
and stability across Africa, the Middle East and South Asia. And the
example of Lagos shows that countries can begin to work better when
their cities are well governed and thriving.
In other words, cities can help save countries.
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