The institutional cost of ‘our person’

Politics Spice Special Features Education Sex & Relationship Interview Columns Opinion Advertise with us The institutional cost of ‘our person’ Opinion November 3, 2026 12:52 am Dakuku Peterside

The interview panel is still asking questions, but the job has already been promised. The procurement committee reviews bids, but the winning contractor already knows the outcome. An executive has failed repeatedly, yet the urgent discussion focuses on protecting his position rather than the organisation. Behind each decision sits a familiar explanation: “He is our person.”

Few expressions sound more reassuring—or become more destructive when allowed to govern institutional decisions. They turn affection into entitlement and access into immunity. What begins as a favour gradually establishes a parallel system: written rules for ordinary people, private arrangements for those who matter.

The difficulty is that relationships often perform essential work. When institutions are unreliable, families, friendships, and community networks provide school fees, employment leads, and support through hardship. Those who succeed are expected to help others advance. Refusing a request can carry a social penalty; insisting on due process can sound, to those seeking assistance, like an elaborate excuse for abandonment.

But helping someone reach an opportunity is different from deciding that the opportunity belongs to them. An introduction can widen access. A predetermined appointment closes it. The obligation to assist a friend does not confer the right to make an institution—and everyone depending on it—bear the consequences.

Nor should connections automatically disqualify anyone. A relative may be the strongest candidate; a longstanding associate may offer the best service. The test is whether a fair assessment can demonstrate that advantage. Would the same evidence persuade an independent panel? Would the decision survive disclosure? Would an equally qualified stranger receive equal consideration?

These questions matter because favouritism does more than produce a questionable appointment. It changes what everyone else believes they must do to succeed.

Employees study decisions more closely than mission statements. When proximity trumps performance, they learn where to invest their energy. Expertise becomes less valuable than access; initiative becomes riskier than obedience. Some adapt by cultivating patrons. Others withdraw their effort. The most capable may leave, taking with them the judgement and independence the organisation most needs.

Those who remain learn a second lesson: truth has a hierarchy. A junior employee’s mistake can be discussed openly; a powerful insider’s failure requires careful language. Reports soften. Warnings arrive late. Meetings become exercises in managing sensitivities. Eventually, leaders receive the reassurance they prefer instead of the information they need.

An institution can retain its impressive offices, respected directors and elaborate policies while losing its capacity to correct itself.

Banking experiences across Nigeria, Ghana, and Kenya illustrate the dangers of powerful insiders operating beyond effective safeguards. Their circumstances differ; personal relationships alone cannot explain their failures. The recurring concern is that concentrated influence, connected transactions, and compromised oversight weaken independent judgement. Controls offer little protection when the people they should constrain can override them.

The consequences extend far beyond the room in which an exception was granted. Employees face uncertainty. Customers and investors bear losses. Regulators inherit crises. The benefit concentrates among insiders; the cost spreads to people who neither authorised the decision nor shared its rewards.

In public institutions, the damage also reaches the relationship between citizens and the state. When appointments, contracts, and enforcement appear to depend on connections, people begin to treat official procedures as obstacles that require an intermediary. The citizen who follows the rules feels foolish. The applicant who seeks a patron feels practical. Each experience makes the next promise of reform harder to believe.

Rebuilding confidence requires more than appeals to integrity. Recruitment criteria must precede the preferred candidate. Assessments must be documented. Conflicts must be disclosed and followed by meaningful withdrawal from decisions. Boards must examine patterns: who gets repeated opportunities, whose failures go unpunished, and which exceptions consistently benefit the same circle.

Above all, employees must be able to raise concerns about influential people without sacrificing their careers.

Yet no procedure can compensate for a leader who demands exemptions. The real test comes when a friend expects a contract, a relative seeks an appointment, or a trusted associate deserves removal. At that point, leadership carries a personal cost. Someone close may feel disappointed, offended or betrayed.

Accepting that discomfort is part of the job.

We should also reconsider what loyalty means. The colleague who challenges a reckless decision may be more loyal than the one who applauds it. The board member who insists on scrutiny may protect a leader better than the friend who arranges another exception.

Before approving the next appointment, contract or promotion, a leader should ask one question: would I make this decision if the beneficiary were a stranger?

If the answer changes with the relationship, the institution is being asked to pay for a private obligation.

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