By Sam M Mendelson,
Microfinance Focus, July 17, 2012: There have been three particularly fascinating books that have illuminated the microfinance industry in the past couple of years or so. Actually there have been more than three, but Confessions of a Microfinance Heretic is for me the third of a triumvirate that provide a genuine spectrum of analysis of what the purpose of microfinance is, what positive outcomes it leads to (if any) and what - if anything – can be done to make it work better.
Most readers of this site will be familiar with the first two: Milford Bateman’s Why Doesn’t Microfinance Work, and David Roodman’s Due Diligence. These two men have engaged in pretty much ongoing public debate for the last two years over the central thesis of each other’s work: that (and forgive the inevitable over-simplification) ‘microfinance not only fails to improve people’s lives but that it is inherently flawed and its foundation on half-truths makes it a barrier to development’ (Bateman); and ‘that microfinance is only now being subjected to genuine rigour in its analysis of outcomes, that there is little evidence that microcredit has a poverty-alleviating effect, but that there are foundations to be built upon’ (Roodman). Although I continue to generally agree more with Roodman than Bateman, I’ve been pleased with the intellectual momentum this debate has promulgated: the internet heaves with informed discussion on how to make microfinance work better for the poor.
Now, Hugh Sinclair has written a book very different than either of the others, but one which in its own way is just as important. Confessions of a Microfinance Heretic is part whistleblower, part autobiography, telling the story of Hugh’s decade in the microfinance industry, working in MFIs in Mozambique, Mexico, Nigeria and Mongolia, and his time at Triple Jump, the Dutch-based fund manager, and with several other high-profile funding organisations, leading up to the author’s role as an anonymous source for a New York Times exposé on corruption within the industry. Less academic than the other two, it is obviously intended to reach an audience beyond the industry people reading the Bateman-Roodman exchanges.
It is written with the evident frustration and disappointment of a man who has seen his faith in the industry and its lofty ideals shattered by a first-hand viewpoint of the disconnect between what microfinance is supposed to be doing (sustainably providing financial services to the poor to help alleviate poverty) and the incompetence, and – one gets the sense that his lawyers forced him to keep some of his powder dry – borderline criminal negligence by the funders of the industry to conduct proper due diligence of the institutions in which they invest. It is not an academic tome by any means. And it is flawed in several respects. But it is scathing without being unconstructive. And it is, I gather, already leading to some heads starting to roll.
Confessions has as its starting premise that the microfinance industry has adopted some of characteristics of a cult – the idolatry; the dogma; the resistance to criticism. Sinclair’s opening chapter is entitled “Thou Shalt Not Criticise Microfinance”, and speaks of a community of group-thinkers, wedded to the orthodoxy of microloans turning destitute women into burgeoning microentrepreneurs, and for whom questioning of the orthodoxy amounts to the heresy being confessed.
I think we have all met some such people at conferences and the like. And no doubt pre-2010 such unblinking supplication to microfinance as development panacea was widespread. But Sinclair’s description of the cultishness of the sector is probably the least interesting part of the book (I have had enough experiences to the contrary to feel that the industry is not so suffused with KoolAid-drinking automatons). The second least interesting parts of the book are some of the digressions into the personal narrative unrelated to the microfinance work itself: the back-and-forth alternation of personal memoir and serious presentation of important observations is a sometimes uneasy one, and while Hugh’s story is a good one (and he has crammed more experience into a decade than most people manage in a lifetime) this book would have been better with a more singular focus on the microfinance.
And here is where the book is genuinely important. He lambasts certain MFIs for their staggering incompetence: LAPO in Nigeria comes in for the strongest treatment, particularly on interest rates and his long-standing contretemps with Grameen Foundation and Calvert over their investment in LAPO. Their alleged failure to conduct a minimum of due diligence is an intriguing story. In fact, the majority of the book involves LAPO in one way or another, and although that opens up the legitimate question of representativeness, he portrays a pattern of behaviour among other parties in their involvement with this particular MFI that is very interesting indeed. It describes well the way the so-called ‘principal-agent problem’ manifests in this context, with the agent (the MIV) having more information than the principal (investor/donor) and able to leverage that advantage to its benefit. Perhaps it is the middle man – the fund – which is the biggest obstacle of all.
There isn’t space here to summarise everything Confessions touches upon. Some parts miss more than they hit, to be sure; some sections even have a slightly elegaic feel. The ‘recommendations’ to regulators, borrowers, investors are unsatisfying. I don’t share all of Hugh’s criticism of Kiva. But some of the stories are funny and engaging (the difficulty installing a computerised MIS at a rural branch in Mozambique is hilarious), some inspiring (he describes in detail his refreshing experiences in Mongolia – like “microfinance with a soul”), and some are ponderous and detailed by necessity: the presenting of the background and evidence of negligence or malfeasance surrounding LAPO and various of its funding organisations.
Ultimately, Confessions is frustrating and fascinating in equal measure. Sinclair goes to great ends to make clear he is not in the Bateman camp of seeking to undermine or destroy the industry to focus on alternative development pathways. Probably a half dozen times he refers to not wishing to “throw the baby out with the bathwater”, an over-repetition left unmolested by the editor’s red pen than can only indicate just how clear Sinclair is that he wants the industry to be saved, not destroyed. This, then, is laudable, as is his effort to head off at the pass the villains’ panic by publishing original materials at a website set up for this purpose. Despite the evidence he presents of malfeasance and incompetence, one feels he has pulled some of his punches (some of the more peripheral people have had their names changed, with cannot help but make the charges feel flimsier – whether they are or not) at the behest of the lawyers.
The remaining frustration comes from the paucity of recommendations for fixing the industry. Or rather, that the recommendations are too feeble or restrained that an opportunity for has been missed – ‘A Manifesto for a New Microfinance’, or the like.
Overall, though, as in the industry itself, one mustn’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. This book is far from perfect. Some of what it says is news to nobody (there are MFIs charging extortionate rates with aggressive collection practices; there remains a failure to conduct adequate, rigorous due diligence by funders of MFIs before investing), but some of the stories he recounts tell a much broader story – one which it is important to hear. This story is that compounding the failures of individual people and institutions is a culture of paranoia and dishonesty among those being criticised. And that – perhaps due nod to Steven Levitt – incentives are key to behaviour, and the structures of incentives within the industry are some of the obstacles to achieving microfinance’s social objectives.
I’d like to say one final thing. I know Hugh a bit personally, and although we disagree on plenty, I can openly and publicly say I believe his motives in writing this book were as he claims them to be. He knew while writing it that upon publication he would be condemned, ostracised, fired and slandered by many who have been implicated or associated with those who have failed in their roles to make microfinance what it can and should be. He wrote this book at tremendous personal cost. So I’d like to commend his bravery in writing what is a flawed but nevertheless important book from an insider, for the outsider, and which hopefully could have positive consequences for the industry.
About the Author:
Sam Mendelson is co-author since 2009 of the Microfinance Banana Skins survey, and is the 2012 CSFI Citi/DFID Development Fellow.
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