Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo is used to getting his way.
Chances are, you’ve never heard of him, and there’s little reason you should have. The gentleman is president of Equatorial Guinea, a sliver of real estate tucked in the Atlantic crook of Africa, between Cameroon and Gabon. He is the kind of president who routinely wins 90 percent to 99 percent of the vote to stay in office, and he has been in the office a rather long time. He ousted his uncle from the post in a military coup back in 1979 and shows no sign he is about to give it up. Obiang’s longevity is the type that suggests either that his people adore him beyond measure, or they know enough to stay out of his way.
We are peeking into Obiang’s business today because, thank heavens, a number of other people won’t let him have his way.
Equatorial Guinea is wealthy by sub-Saharan standards. It happens to sit on reserves of oil and gas large enough to make big oil companies salivate and investors go courting. Oil exports since the 1990s have boosted the country’s GDP per capita to an estimated $26,000 a year, an enviable balance sheet for the population of roughly 650,000, give or take a few thousand.
Enviable, that is, if “per capita” meant that the ordinary citizens actually had a share in the wealth. But in Equatorial Guinea (as in Nigeria), where the discovery of oil held promise of propelling the rise out of poverty, the gusher of wealth has not trickled down. It has not improved living standards and quality of life beyond the fraction of people who hang on to the reins of government.
A review in 2009 by the Center for Economic and Social Rights calculated that almost two-thirds of the population in Equatorial Guinea live on less than $1 a day. During the same period the country’s wealth has increased, the survival rate for infants and children under five years has declined, enrollment in primary schools has dropped, 20 percent of small children are chronically malnourished, and there has been no progress in improving access to water and sanitation. The richer the country gets, the poorer the people become.
To the ruler go the spoils. Transparency International’s index of official corruption last year ranked Equatorial Guinea 168 out of 178 countries, among the 10 most corrupt countries in the world. In the past several years, a U.S. Senate committee has investigated financial dealings of Obiang and his family involving American oil companies and the old Riggs National Bank in Washington, D.C. The State Department also issued a report in 2009 citing a variety of serious human rights violations. France is conducting its own corruption investigation of the Obiang government.
Burdened by corrupt, dictatorial and shameless leadership, Equatorial Guinea does not lack company on the continent, unfortunately. Obiang’s story would not even be worth the time to recount were it not for his cynical grab at international respectability and the possibility that he can get his way on that, too.
In 2008, Obiang offered to put up $3 million to finance a prize that would be awarded by UNESCO, the U.N.’s educational, scientific and cultural organization, for research in the life sciences. UNESCO’s executive board agreed and the award was established, named for Obiang. The African Union is supporting the bid as the first African prize of UNESCO. (The shame of it, Obiang is presiding over the AU this year.)
To be sure, $3 million for scientific research isn’t much, as international philanthropy goes. But consider the source. What would be the honor in a President Obiang award when primary education is out of the reach of thousands of children in his own country?
Where would credibility reside in an award from the Obiang Nguema Mbasogo Foundation for the Preservation of Life when infant and maternal survival in Equatorial Guinea is dropping sharply? How much effort is he putting into life preservation for his country’s poor?
The UNESCO board so far has delayed making any awards, stung by the outraged protests of human rights advocates and individuals and groups fighting official corruption. At UNESCO, the embarrassed agency director last week asked Obiang to withdraw the award. Not easily dissuaded, Obiang reportedly has signed a $55,000 a month contract with Qorvis, a Washington public relations firm, to polish the image of the his government.
It is likely the UNESCO board, meeting in Paris, will make a decision this week on the award. There are few things the board should bear in mind: Obiang is remarkable only in the fact that he has gone international with his cynical philanthropic bait. UNESCO should not allow itself to be co-opted into coating corruption with a veneer of respectability. For good reason, the United Nations has promoted the fight against corruption in development programs such as the Millennium Challenge. One would hope UNESCO understands perfectly the many ways corrupt governments and entrenched leaders derail progress and make it impossible for their countries to rise out of poverty.
Ofobike is the Beacon Journal chief editorial writer. She can be reached at 330-996-3513 or by email at lofobike@thebeaconjournal.com
