As Malawians reel from corruption scandals associated with a regime that promised to kick out corruption and ensure even one tambala is accounted for, accountability specialist FRANCIS NYARAI NDENDE* unpacks why Africa needs more than beautiful constitutions to fight corruption.
If African countries were judged only by the beauty of their constitutions, the continent would be a Scandinavian-level paradise with better weather and hopes for their people.
We have texts that sing about human rights, dance elegantly with the separation of powers and flirt shamelessly with the rule of law.
Then you look at how power is actually exercised, and you have to ask: “Wait… did we download the wrong software for this hardware?”
That tension is what the late professor Hastings Okoth-Ogendo called the African paradox: We have constitutions, but very little constitutionalism.
This is where corruption, lack of integrity, and weak accountability move in, unpack their bags, and charge rent.
Africa has turned constitution-making into a continental hobby. We have perfected the art of drafting documents while neglecting the craft of obeying them. If constitutions had loyalty cards, some countries would have platinum status.
At independence, most States adopted grand principles—Bills of Rights, judicial reviews and rule of law—creating a constitutionalist buffet on paper.
But the catch was that real power remained in inherited colonial machineries designed for control, not accountability.
Think of it as repainting the signboard outside a house while keeping the same old landlord inside. That landlord loves decrees, speaks fluent “national security,” and is allergic to oversight.
Okoth-Ogendo suggested we view a constitution as a “power map”: a diagram showing who does what to whom. In Africa, this map was meant to show power limited by law. In practice, it often shows law limited by power.
We see this in the persistence of “imperial presidentialism.” The president often appoints judges, dismisses them and selects his own praise singers.
Like in Malawi, the Head of State is immune from prosecution and declares emergencies based on definitions of “public security” so broad that even a WhatsApp group feels risky.
Integrity struggles here because the referee (the Judiciary) fears the team owner (Executive). The auditor (Legislature) depends on the auditee for a salary. It is like asking a cat to write rules for the protection of fish.
Simultaneously, the political party in power acts as the gatekeeper. To run for office, get a contract or keep a job, you must praise the party.
Citizens are sovereign only on voting day. In this environment, corruption flourishes naturally. Loyalty is rewarded over legality and “comrade” or cronyism is a better shield than compliance.
What does this have to do with corruption? Everything. When a constitution is treated as political décor—quoted on holidays but ignored in cabinet—procurement rules become optional and anti-corruption agencies become political weapons.
You end up with investigations that never close and commissions of inquiry that generate more paper than justice.
Furthermore, the legal order often grants officials enormous discretionary powers. Where discretion is high and accountability is low, corruption is not a bug—it is a feature.
A classic move is declaring a controversial issue a matter of “national security.” Want to bypass procurement rules? Emergency. From an integrity perspective, “national security” is often just an expensive way of saying: “Don’t ask questions.”
Many leaders launch loud anti-corruption campaigns, declaring ‘zero tolerance.’ But you cannot fight corruption seriously when the same elite controls the Executive, the party, the security forces and the economy.
It is like hiring a thief to conduct inventory, asking a fox to design poultry security, and then writing an angry preamble about ethics.
Real integrity requires moving from slogans to systems. A serious anti-corruption architecture needs constitutions that act as brakes, not boosters.
This means clear limits on Executive power, genuine judicial independence and protected oversight bodies with independent budgets.
The power map needs actual speed bumps, not just decorative road signs.
It also requires de-weaponising “national security”. Public security laws must be subject to judicial review and parliamentary supervision.
Otherwise, ‘State security’ becomes shorthand for “security of the State against its own citizens,” creating the perfect recipe for corruption: no scrutiny, no sunlight, no problem.
Accountability must also travel beyond the capital. Many grand scandals grow out of boring paperwork: land allocations and local procurement. Integrity must be decentralised. Currently, in too many places, the tender is “open to everyone… as long as your surname appears in the right WhatsApp group.”
To be fair, Africa has both horror stories and hopeful ones. Benin’s Constitutional Court showed for decades what happens when a constitution is treated as a living constraint on power. Conversely, Kenya’s 2010 Constitution—born from deep public participation—often clashes with a political culture that answers “integrity” with “ingenuity.”
The punchline is painful but simple: we do not have a shortage of anti-corruption laws; we have a shortage of people willing to obey them when it is politically painful.
Constitutionalism is not installed like an app; it must be lived. A beautifully worded clause on integrity means little if whistle-blowers are punished. We must flip the paradox: move from constitutions without constitutionalism to constitutionalism even when constitutions wobble. That requires political norms that reject stealing even when you can get away with it, and citizens who are not afraid to ask hard questions.
Africa’s problem is not a lack of rules. We have rules for everything, including how many times to clap after a speech. What we urgently need are rules that bite when people cross red lines.
The real victory will come when a president thinks twice before calling the anti-corruption agency “my tool”; when a judge can rule against power and still get a promotion; when a young civil servant says “I’m honest,” and people do not respond, “Ah, so you’re still new.” That is when we will finally move from constitutions on paper to integrity in practice.
*The author is a legal, governance, and anti-corruption specialist serving as chief executive officer of Corporate and Institutional Integrity Africa. He is a Technical Specialist on the EU-funded Enhancing Accountability Programme in South Africa.
