Milkshakes in the African desert - criticism of the Agency for International Development

Washington Monthly, May, 1994 by Stryk Thomas

...and other absurdities brought to you by the Agency for International Development's multi-million dollar consulting game. A former staffer reports

I knew I had arrived as a high-powered consultant in Africa when I was assigned a chauffeur and a gleaming white Toyota Land Cruiser. True, I was bought on the cheap--just an ex-Peace Corps volunteer who was picked up for his knowledge of the local language and culture. Also true, my motor-powered prestige belonged to the Agency for International Development (AID), and would only last until I was dropped off in a village. Nevertheless, I sensed I had entered an utterly new realm.

I started working for AID in Niger, the West African country where I'd just finished serving in the Peace Corps. The agency was planning a multi-million dollar program to prepare Niger to deal with future droughts and other disasters. My job was to study traditional perceptions of natural disasters and village coping strategies. The idea was to learn how villagers already dealt with such catastrophes, and to determine what sorts of projects AID could implement which would not compete with time-honored methods. Using someone who'd just spent two years in a village, as opposed to flying in a "food security specialist" from Washington or Paris, seemed a logical and efficient means to achieve a noble goal.

One of my first lessons at the agency was that although hiring me saved money--by avoiding travel and hotel costs, as well as the pricey salaries of more established professionals--the desire to conserve American taxpayer dollars was not why I got the job. I was classified as a "local hire," which meant far less paperwork to bring me on board, and payment for my services could be handled with few authorizations. Still, I knew enough to realize that international development was a business, after all, and was satisfied with the prospect of an interesting experience.

Niger's AID mission is adjacent to the U.S. Embassy. When I first entered the building, I realized AID's offices were its own worst enemy. After two years living in the African bush, I suddenly learned what "culture shock" really means. I was stunned to discover that the mission was a perfect recreation of an American office, from the gray cubicles to the American Standard toilets. Air conditioners hummed and Niger's barren landscape was barely visible beyond the irrigated lawns and the steel-reinforced gates of the compound.

A week after my arrival, I learned that my superiors had become concerned about the costs of my research. I originally had six months to carry out the study, barely enough time to do my work with any kind of accuracy. Suddenly, I had only three weeks.

"We need to get this done," I was told, "so we can go ahead with the projects." I was young and eager, so I avoided asking the first question which came to mind: If they already knew what projects they were going to do, why had they hired me to find out which ones would be appropriate?

My research turned into a track meet, trying to beat the deadline. Many of my village visits were unannounced, so I had to scramble to find people to interview. Discussions were hasty, and then I had to move on. Time is not money in West Africa. If you want accurate, detailed information, it will take you a while to get it.

After delivering my final report, I was treated to lunch at the American Rec Center next door. The Rec Center is in a shady grove of eucalyptus trees. CNN droned from a TV, the air smelled of bacon cheeseburgers, and the milkshakes were ice cold. The room was full of consultants. I sat next to a middle-aged man who was assisting Niger's transition to democracy.

"We need to educate villagers about the democratic process," he said, "so they'll understand how to vote. I've got this idea: We'll give them computer work stations where they'll be linked to the U.S. via satellite. They could ask questions about elections, and get specific answers--exactly what they want to know. What do you think? It'll fly, won't it?"

I tried to listen, but all the while I kept wondering where they would get the electricity, and who was going to teach those villagers to read.

AID relies heavily on consultants--specialists in health, natural resources, and other fields. These "experts" are flown around the world from Washington by AID to devise solutions for whatever nagging problems face their destination country. They are hired by AID for short-term contracts to work with its field missions, and are sent home well-compensated. The consulting game brings together government officials, professors from America's top universities, and people from private firms in a steady Beltway orbit. The agency swarms with these folks. In fiscal year 1994 alone AID spent an estimated $183.9 million on outside consultants.

How many consultants does that money buy? That depends on how you count, because AID pays these people in as many different ways as there are categories in the agency's budget. Depending on a consultant's purpose and the ease of justifying his employment, he is hired out of various operating expenses, program funds, or other means. Personal service contracts are one popular way of hiring freelance consultants. By the end of September 1993, AID was funding 4,362 of them overseas and 29 in Washington.