The Alliance of the Owls of Destruction Against Investment (2/2)

As I See 

Adel El-Baz

1

No sooner had the first installment of this article been published than comments began pouring in from all directions. However, one observation particularly caught my attention, and I believe it was entirely justified: that I had been angry and emotional in my criticism of the state government.

That is true. The reason for my strong reaction is that I had repeatedly urged my friend, Ayman Abu-Jibain, to reconsider his position. Following the initial shock he suffered when Al-Asgad Company’s contract with the Central Bank of Sudan was terminated in such an extraordinary manner—an incident that clearly demonstrated the government’s failure to honor its contracts—Abu-Jibain left the Sudanese market and turned to investment opportunities in Djibouti, Somalia, and Uganda.

I used to tell him that he could not devote himself to rebuilding other people’s countries while his own homeland was in desperate need of reconstruction. I urged him more than once to return and invest in his own country, and to endure the difficulties he might encounter. I knew how deeply attached he was to Sudan.

When this investment opportunity emerged, I learned that he had submitted a proposal to the River Nile State Government, and that a contract had subsequently been signed with him. When I discovered that the contract had been cancelled in such an arbitrary manner, I was astonished. Abu-Jibain’s prediction had proved correct. He had repeatedly told me: “They will never allow me to work in Sudan.”

2

The question that inevitably arises is: What exactly did these people hope to achieve by cancelling this particular contract? Was the project detrimental to the state? The facts that have been made public indicate precisely the opposite.

The agreement signed between Al-Mubarak Construction and Real Estate Development Company and the State Housing Fund was intended to construct 60 residential units in the Al-Maamoura neighbourhood of Atbara, designed as multi-storey villas and using prefabricated construction technology that reduces costs by more than 50 percent compared with conventional building methods.

In other words, the state would have secured modern housing at an affordable price for citizens already exhausted by the war, through a Sudanese investor possessing the necessary technology, expertise, and financial resources—all without the state having to spend a single pound from its already depleted treasury.

What kind of reasoning could justify cancelling such a deal? There is no rational justification. Rather, it suggests vested interests, and perhaps some undisclosed personal motive.

The irony is that this cancellation occurred at precisely the same time that the state was promoting its investment forum, inviting national and foreign companies to invest in River Nile State, while government ministries were speaking about marketing investment opportunities both domestically and internationally.

How can a government invite investors from public platforms while driving away an investor who returned from abroad after having initially been forced out of Khartoum by that very same government?

This is a dangerous contradiction: one set of statements for the media and official reports, and an entirely different set of decisions made behind closed doors, detached from any economic rationale.

Here, it is important to recall that what happened in River Nile State is not merely the story of Al-Mubarak Company. It is the second episode in a single ongoing saga. It was preceded by the Al-Asgad debacle, which had already driven this investor out of the Sudanese market, as I explained in the first installment.

The story that will now be told in investors’ gatherings and business networks is that Sudan is a country that signs contracts but does not honour them; it welcomes investors during the day and drives them away at night.

Judging by the reactions on social media to the first installment, many readers have begun to grasp the danger posed by the machinations of the Alliance of Destruction. This reflects growing public awareness, because the country’s economic circumstances can no longer withstand such manoeuvres and interference. They achieve only one thing: creating a hostile environment for investment.

Investors everywhere are now watching developments in Sudan and assessing the opportunities available in post-war Sudan. If they lose confidence in the rule of law and in the state’s ability to protect them from the arbitrary excesses of political authority, then nothing will persuade them to invest in Sudan. At that point, the small clique of destruction will have succeeded in destroying what remains of the country without gaining anything in return.

I say to the Alliance of Destruction: You are doing Ayman Abu-Jibain no real harm. The man has already lost his homeland once and learned how to build elsewhere. His financial future is no longer tied to your markets.

But you are harming the families in Atbara who are waiting for homes. You are harming every worker who would have earned a living at that construction site. And you are harming every investor who was considering coming to Sudan but subsequently changed their mind.

The entire burden of this damage falls on Sudan and its people. You throw the bomb from a distance, while all its shrapnel strikes this already exhausted nation.

No economy can be built on destruction. And a political seat protected by undermining investment will soon collapse beneath the person occupying it. States that fail to honour their contracts will find that companies no longer respect their commitments to them. A state that frightens away its investors will eventually have nothing left in its treasury with which to intimidate anyone.

The echoes of the destruction you are unleashing today will reach you tomorrow, when you stand before citizens asking about a home that was never built, a job that was never created, and an investor who fled and never returned.

3

If we are sincere in our talk about rebuilding post-war Sudan, then reconstruction must begin here: by honouring signed contracts, restoring the rights and dignity of those wronged by arbitrary decisions, and drawing a clear distinction between the public interest and personal grudges.

I call on everyone entrusted with decision-making authority in this country to remember that a reputation takes years to build but can be destroyed by a single decision.

As for Ayman Abu-Jibain, he has delivered his final verdict: “They will never allow me to work in Sudan.”

How mistaken are those who believe that his loss is Sudan’s loss. In reality, Sudan is the greatest loser. A homeland that drives away its own sons who are willing to rebuild it has no right to blame them when they choose to build other people’s countries instead.