Dr Kole Shettima, the Africa Director of the MacArthur Foundation, discusses the work of the US-based philanthropic organization and argues that Nigerians should fund noble causes through Foundations. He spoke on 30 Minutes with Mannir Dan-Ali, an interactive programme on Trust TV.
Why are major U.S. philanthropists—like the MacArthur Foundation, the Gates Foundation, and others—so interested in doing good in Africa at this time?
That’s a big question. Interestingly, the MacArthur Foundation was started by John MacArthur and his wife, Catherine.
Who were they?
They came from the world of newspapers, but John made his fortune in banking and insurance. His innovation—now commonplace—was to send marketers door to door to sell insurance, instead of waiting for customers to walk in. That strategy made him a wealthy man. He later built hospitals and hotels, especially in Florida. Yet he lived modestly— often mistaken for a janitor at his own hotels because he served guests personally and dressed plainly. Few believed someone like that could have amassed such wealth. Near the end of his life, he simply said, “I’ve figured out how to make money,” and handed over the task of spending it to his two children and close friends.
Why do people like MacArthur, Gates, and others create foundations?
Partly because they want to make a positive impact, but also because the U.S. tax system encourages philanthropy. Donating through a foundation offers tax advantages— some wealth becomes tax-exempt, effectively allowing them to preserve more by giving strategically. It’s a society where tax systems work efficiently to reward such giving. Compare that to countries where tax enforcement is weak—billionaires can end up paying less than civil servants.
So, U.S. tax incentives play a major role in shaping a culture of organized giving?
Beyond tax benefits, many wealthy individuals genuinely want to give back. Some are motivated by faith, seeing their wealth as a gift from God that should benefit others. Others come from humble beginnings and want to create opportunities for people like them. All of these factors combine to make the U.S. a global leader in organized philanthropy. Meanwhile, in Nigeria and other parts of Africa, there’s a long-standing Islamic tradition of waqf—an endowment for public benefit, similar to a foundation. But this hasn’t taken root widely in West Africa.
Why?
Perhaps because of cultural norms, where wealth is expected to be divided strictly among heirs after death, in line with religious injunctions. That may explain why only recently we’ve started seeing figures like Dangote, Abdul Samad Rabiu, and Isyaku Rabiu establishing foundations. It’s a shift that mirrors rising awareness, both of global philanthropic models and of how wealth can serve society long after the donor is gone. In fact, Bayero University Kano is hosting a major conference soon on waqf and zakat in Nigeria. This could spark broader awareness and make people less wary about large-scale giving, especially as seen in the U.S. Take the MacArthur Foundation, for example— it has an annual budget of over $200 million and has spent more than $7 billion to date. Its endowment is continually reinvested, enabling the foundation to operate indefinitely unless the board decides otherwise.
Interestingly, John MacArthur’s children were mostly uninvolved. Only one helped set up the foundation, but even they eventually stepped aside. Today, the foundation is run entirely by a board of independently elected trustees, and all staff are professional hires—not family members. That institutional independence ensures continuity.
This aligns with a teaching of the Prophet: three things continue after death—knowledge shared through writing, prayers by one’s children, and a waqf that sustains ongoing good deeds?
Many Nigerians are generous, but giving often isn’t systematized. For instance, when I mention MKO Abiola—presumed winner of the 1993 election and once among Africa’s richest—many people don’t remember him. He was known for funding scholarships, building mosques and churches, and supporting sports. But after his death, his philanthropy ceased. The issue wasn’t generosity, but the lack of institutional continuity.
How are some of the local Foundations doing?
There’s hope that foundations like those of Dangote and Abdulsamad Rabiu have long-term investment strategies to ensure they endure. In Dangote’s case, his philanthropy began as corporate social responsibility through his companies. Over time, there’s been a shift toward creating an independent foundation, though family members remain involved. Ideally, they’ll set aside a percentage of future profits
for the foundation, managed by a professional team with an investment committee, ensuring sustainability. General TY Danjuma followed a similar path, announcing a $100 million seed fund for his foundation. These efforts show promise, but success hinges on independent investments and long-term planning. The challenge, especially with living donors, is that structures can be fluid. In contrast, major global foundations like MacArthur, Ford, and Rockefeller became prominent only after their founders’ deaths, when independent governance took over and ensured their missions continued.
After a donor’s death, a foundation can operate more independently. But when the donor is still alive, isn’t that more complicated?
Yes, it often is. A living donor might directly influence decisions—directing who gets what, based on personal preferences that can shift over time. That can tie the hands of the foundation. It’s a common challenge, unlike with foundations like MacArthur, Ford, or Rockefeller, where the founders and their families are no longer involved. These foundations enjoy more independence in setting programs and making strategic decisions. Still, it’s encouraging that more Nigerians are setting up foundations. For instance, I.E. Mokode has his foundation. While there’s debate about how some fortunes were built, what matters now is that these individuals are using their wealth for good. That shift is important.
Dr. Kole, does Nigerian culture support the growth of foundations, or is this a passing trend?
I hope it’s not a trend. As more Nigerians gain wealth, I hope philanthropy becomes more common. Government can play a role—offering tax incentives, legal frameworks, and institutional support to encourage giving. We also shouldn’t focus only on high-profile individuals like Dangote, Abdulsamad Rabiu, or T.Y. Danjuma. Communities can—and should— create their own foundations. For example, the Rivers State Community Foundation was formed by residents to support local needs. Such models can work across Nigeria. Foundations don’t have to be led by one wealthy person.
There have been examples—the Katsina Foundation once chaired by former president Muhammadu Buhari, the Kano Foundation, and others. But many have been government-driven, not truly owned by community leaders. Their management, especially financial sustainability and staffing, often leaves much to be desired. In some cases, positions are filled based on titles rather than relevant experience—military generals managing investments, for instance. That undermines effectiveness. We need professional management to make the most of the limited resources available.
The 19 northern governors also launched the Sardauna Memorial Foundation, with each state expected to contribute. Some did; others still haven’t. Despite that, the foundation’s investments have been handled reasonably well. But operational expenses sometimes balloon—officials with SUVs and perks—leaving fewer funds for the core mission. It reminds me of Warren Buffett. Despite being one of the world’s richest men, he still flies economy. On one flight, he saw his staff flying business class. He’s also lived in the same modest house since 1954. That kind of humility and commitment to values is something we can learn from.
What has been the focus of the MacArthur Foundation in Nigeria in recent years?
Now, regarding the MacArthur Foundation: our core focus in Nigeria is anti-corruption and accountability. One major strategy is supporting independent and investigative journalism. Media outlets globally are struggling, and many here depend heavily on government patronage, making them vulnerable. For example, it’s not uncommon to see dubious “Governor of the Year” awards handed out by the same journalists meant to hold leaders accountable. We believe editorial independence requires financial independence. If we want honest reporting and effective checks on power, we have to invest in independent media.
Another area of focus is behavioral change—shifting societal values. We often glorify the corrupt, excusing their behavior as long as they’re “our people.” This mindset needs to change. In colonial times, respected figures included teachers, judges, and traditional leaders. Now, no one wants to be a teacher—the pay is poor and the respect is gone.
Teaching has become a last resort, not a calling. So, we ask: who are today’s role models? The woman in Sokoto who returned $80,000? The boy in Kano who returned ₦11 million? These are the people we should celebrate—not Yahoo boys or corrupt politicians flaunting wealth. We also engage faith leaders. Most Nigerians identify as Christians or Muslims, often beginning meetings with prayers, yet conduct themselves in ways that contradict their faith. Public officials swear on holy books yet act unethically. We ask religious leaders to speak truth to power, not just bless those in office or pray for them in Mecca or Jerusalem while ignoring wrongdoing. This intersection of faith, accountability, and public service is central to our work on behavioral change. It’s a crucial conversation—and I hope we can keep having it.
