A couple of weeks ago I visited our FINCA project and its clients in Nicaragua. Traveling with me was Matthew Glynn, a fine UK journalist from The Independent. We met with a number of clients who had started and grown businesses with the help of FINCA microloans.
On his return, Matthew wrote a feature piece for the Independent and a shorter piece for the London Evening Standard. In the Independent he quoted me giving my views on the role of microfinance in tackling terrorism:
“I heard someone say the other day, ‘Let’s be clear, we’re not going to fight terrorism by helping poor people with microfinance’. Well, guess what, we are, and it’s the only way we’re going to do it.
“We ignore at our peril the social ills of countries like Pakistan and Afghanistan where there is high youth unemployment and people may give their kids to a madrassa and a radical imam otherwise they might starve to death. … So how can we combat that? We have to give the family an alternative, maybe an opportunity to access microfinance – the ability to start and run their own business.
“It’s not going to be the only solution… but business, done in a responsible way and done as a social enterprise, is the solution to many of the major ills in the world, including poverty and terrorism.”
This is an accurate quote and I stand by it. I’d also like to take this opportunity to add that this is a truth that stands for any country: young people and parents must have economic opportunity or the risk of social unrest rises. In its extreme, unrest can spill into terrorism when the plight of the hopeless is used by those who would purposely do harm to others.
The first two responses I received in the wake of Matt’s two articles were, first, someone desiring to partner with FINCA for microinsurance, and second, a tweet from a former FINCA intern (El Salvador, circa 1995)-turned-microfinance-sceptic Dean Karlan, a professor at Yale, asking: “Does this really capture your view? Microcredit to fight terrorism?” We went back and forth a few times; me defending my position, he his. But this got me thinking. Perhaps it’s time I put my views on this issue right out there. So that’s what I’m doing now. I want to emphasize these are my personal views, not those of my organization.
I absolutely believe that business, done in a responsible way, is a credible alternative to delivering up your kids to being radicalized. And, for the record, I don’t accept the wide-spread premise that almost all terrorists are middle class and college educated. I’ve spent more than 40 years with people in some of the world’s poorest and most volatile places on earth and I can tell you, all the academics in the world won’t convince me to ignore what I’ve seen with my own eyes.
Many suicide bombers are brain-washed as children in madrassas by radical Imams who source poor, uneducated kids delivered to them by their impoverished parents because they can’t feed them. This is a fact. So, no, I don’t agree with author Alan Krueger et al that most terrorists are well-educated.
My albeit-short exchange with Dean on Twitter reminded me of a meeting a number of us from international NGOs had with a representative of the Bush State Department in the wake of 9/11. “Don’t think that this event had anything to do with the fact that the majority of the people of Afghanistan live in poverty, or that this means we will be ramping up spending on economic development in poor countries as a result,” he lectured us. The implication was the only way to fight Al Qaeda was with military force.
I remember thinking, groan, what a totally foolish and ignorant view! Well, we all know how that worked out. After billions spent in Afghanistan, the Taliban has regrouped and reconquered huge swaths of the country. The security situation has made much of the economic development work totally impossible. FINCA has managed to hang on there, where 90% of our clients are women supporting their families through small business efforts.
I also remembered working in Somalia with my FINCA partner, John Hatch, on a credit program for rice farmers in the Shebelle River Valley. The last trip John and I took there was just before the Barre regime collapsed, plunging the country into chaos and setting the stage for the country’s takeover by Al Shabaab, an Al Qaeda affiliate. To me, the absence of economic opportunities resulting from Somalia’s descent into ‘Failed State’ status was definitely a factor in the rise of terrorism.
I am not alone in this line of thinking. Here is a video of a very powerful TED talk by a courageous young Somali social entrepreneur named Mohamed Ali. He describes how terrorist groups seek out and recruit small-town, uneducated, unemployed young people with no prospects and no opportunities – and turns them into suicide bombers. And discusses entrepreneurship as a viable solution.
Mohamed is the Executive Director of the Iftiin Foundation, an organization that builds and supports young entrepreneurs to encourage a culture of change and innovation in Somalia and other post-conflict countries. He has a law degree from Boston College Law School. Mohamed works and lives in Somalia. He was born there, so he knows the country and the people. So if you can’t take my word for it, then take his instead.
Perhaps in the West we have a desire to overcomplicate things because we don’t have a reference point. Most of us have never experienced real hunger, real fear, real hopelessness. Most of us have never even seen people who are suffering from these things because we’ve never visited their countries – they’re ‘too dangerous’. That means, in order to make sense of the senseless, we resort to statistical and academic gymnastics.
Perhaps, if we tried harder to listen, learn and put a human face on the young suicide bomber, we’d begin to accept that the need to survive with dignity can drive people to embrace even the most senseless of options: terrorism.
If we could bring ourselves to accept that alleviating hunger, fear and hopelessness play a major role in the terrorism recruitment advertising package then we could start to see the enormous value of offering opportunity, support, hope and yes, microfinance, as part of the solution.
This piece was originally published on the FINCA website. I just felt I had to share it here as well!
I got the sad news yesterday, via Twitter, that one of the people I most admired in this world, Naima, had passed away. The tweet was from Basha, who is married to one of Naima’s daughters (and who had accompanied Naima to the Sheraton Hotel in Kampala, Uganda, to meet with me several years ago, an encounter which led to my decision to employ Naima as our first Ambassador in that country.
Naima’s qualifications for the job were impeccable. She was one of our most successful clients ever, having clawed her way out of severe poverty over the course of a decade during the 90s, powered by a series of FINCA loans. She had so impressed our staff that, when our other, slightly more famous Ambassador of Hope, Natalie Portman, visited Uganda in 2004, they put her forth as someone Natalie had to meet.
Natalie and I met with Naimi on a hot morning in Jinja, Uganda, a town situated at the source of the Nile, complete with a statue of Speke, the Brit explorer who claimed to have “discovered” the place where Ugandans had been living since time immemorial. Naima took us to the back of her restaurant, which she ran with the help of her four daughters, and, while a journalist from Reuters looked on, told us her story:
“I was born in the Iganga District of Uganda in 1958. In my family, girls were not permitted to have an education, but my brother secretly taught me to read and right. I was married at the age of 13, and born my first child, a daughter, at age 15. I had five more daughters, which displeased my husband, who wanted sons, and so he divorced me. We were living in Mombassa, Kenya, at the time, and I moved then back to Uganda, where I married for the second time. My second husband died when I was 33, leaving me to care for my eight children. We lived in a one-room dwelling, and I supported my family by cleaning people’s houses, who in return allowed me to take their table scraps and wash my family’s cloths with their used dish water. Many days, we had no food at all.
In 1996, a friend of mine told me about an organization named FINCA that made loans to poor women so they could start businesses and support themselves and their families. She took me to a meeting of her village bank, where I was introduced to the other women. But the women decided that I was too poor to join their village bank, and would not be able to repay the loan, meaning they would have to repay for me. I got down on my knees and begged them to accept me. Four of the women took pity on me, and said they would pay for me if I failed to repay the loan. In this way, I was accepted.
The first loan I received was 50,000 shillings (US$ 40). I didn’t know what to do with so much money. My four friends in the village bank invited me to go with them to a nearby village where they was a good crop of tomatoes that would could buy and bring back to Jinja for reselling in the market. The plan worked fine, but by the time we returned to Jinja, the market was closed.
That night, I slept with the tomatoes. The next morning, I sold them all at a good profit. After years of hard work, aided by increasingly larger loans, I eventually saved enough money to buy this restaurant. And now, the best news of all, I have bought a plot of land, in town, and am building my own home.”
Naima related all this, quietly, with a transcendent dignity born of a life of struggle and setbacks, none of which stopped her and, on the contrary, fueled her determination. At the conclusion of Naima’s narrative, the Reuter’s journalist asked Natalie what she thought of all she had heard. Natalie, in tears, shook her head and said “I don’t have problems.”
Years later, in preparation for a visit to Uganda, I asked our CEO, Julius, to get in touch with Naima and if possible arrange a meeting. “I am sorry to say that Naima is not well,” Julius responded. He went on to tell me that Naima had suffered a series of setbacks, which had left her in dire circumstances. First, her mother had fallen ill. To take care of her mother, Naima had left her business in the hands of one of her daughters, who was not up to the task of managing it, and had been forced to sell it to the landlord. Then Naima herself fell ill, with cancer. She entrusted her care to a fraudulent doctor, who took all her money.
“I have to see her,” I told Julius. “Can you arrange a meeting?”
I met with Naima at the Sheraton, Kampala Hotel, a venue that held many memories for me. It was there, back in the mid 80s, that, unable to afford to actually stay there, I used their telephone and tea room as a communications and meeting center, subscribing to the “fake it until you make it” philosophy. It worked, and today FINCA Uganda has over 55,000 clients and a loan book of $20 million. Also, it was in the Sheraton San Salvador, on the other side of the world, that my boss, Michael Hammer, was gunned down by a Death Squad in 1980.
As I listened to Naima relate her story, with the same quiet dignity as when we had met with Natalie, I kept thinking: “This can’t be. Our most successful client ever, not just in Uganda but the world, and it has all been erased. What a tragedy.”
Being the CEO of a global company has its drawbacks, but there are times when the advantages far outweigh the liabilities. I decided then and there to invoke “Executive Privilege”, and deviate far from our normal policy of treating every client the same, i.e., that our job was to provide financial services and not to take responsibility for whatever else was going on in their lives. No, Naima was different. Maybe we couldn’t solve every problem our clients faced, but as in that wonderful line from the movie “The Year of Living Dangerously”, when fate put someone in our path and we had the opportunity to help them, we had to do it.
After the meeting, I told Julius that we had to hire Naima, and that she needed to tell her story to our other 50,000 clients, most of whom were women in circumstances similar to hers when she joined FINCA, and to inspire them to do for their families what she had achieved with hers. At the time, I thought I was performing an act of charity, putting her on the payroll, and inventing a job for her.
How wrong I was. A few months later, a picture arrived with Naima, dressed in a gown she had made herself, celebrating her new role as our first Brand Ambassador. She went from village to village, telling all the women: “When you have problems, FINCA will never abandon you.” It was a powerful message. Our retention rate soared. Despite the highly competitive market in Uganda, our client list grew.
There are things I’ve done in my life I am ashamed of, but of all the things I am proud of I don’t think any can equal my decision to throw a lifeline to Naima in her hour of need, an act she repaid many times, and will, as long as my own struggle lasts, challenge me to live up to the impossibly high standard she has set for us.
I had a heart-warming trip to our bank in Georgia, meeting with our terrific staff and of course our inspiring clients. Hard to believe that when we first went to Georgia, over twenty years ago, no banks were lending to micro and small businesses, and it was struggling to recover from the economic collapse in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Union. But the Georgia people, when given a chance, engineered an economic miracle, which FINCA is proud of have been a part of.
My younger brother, Ben, passed away last week in Camden, Maine at the age of 63. Ben was beloved by all who knew him. You can see his obituary here.
Joining me in this edition of the Social Enterprise Podcast are Diana Seirra, CEO of Be Girl, Ryan Walter, CEO of Compost Crew, and Brian Flores, COO of Compost Crew. In this episode: How did you find your passion? How do you research, text, and implement your business idea? How do you persevere through the ups and downs of starting your business? I want to thank Diana, Ryan, and Brian for a fantastic show and I wish them all the best of luck!
In this interview, I discuss what’s needed for microfinance institutions to progress and develop in the Middle East, how we began and implemented our programs in that region, and the milestones we recently celebrated in Georgia and Pakistan.
I want to thank The Banker‘s Middle East editor, James King, for having me on the show. Here’s the link: