Undocumented students deserve aid too

THE UTTER collapse of immigration reform in Congress was particularly devastating to one group: undocumented students. It leaves those who have excelled academically in our high schools, but who are not legal residents, ineligible for financial aid. Such a barrier means our students, through no fault of their own, have no path to success or citizenship.

I say "our students" because that is just who they are. We have invested in these children, providing them access to public education in our K-12 schools. Our teachers have encouraged them to learn, to compete and to succeed. It is only after these eager and ambitious young people gain college admission and apply for state or federal financial aid that we turn them away. We must not penalize these young people because their parents brought them here illegally.

The futures of high school graduates are being shaped now. These young people cannot wait out yet another attempt at broad immigration reform. Every year that passes, we deny another class of talented, keen young people hopeful futures for themselves and their families and relegate another generation to an existence on the margins of society.

It's a terrible waste of young talent — talent that this country desperately needs. Each year across the nation, 50,000 to 65,000 undocumented students graduate from high school after having spent at least five years in this country. Because California is home to an estimated 40% of the nation's undocumented students, that means 20,000 or so are in this state.

Statistics on how many go on to the state's public colleges and universities are more difficult to come by. Applications don't require proof of citizenship if a student graduated from a California high school. At UC Berkeley, we may have dozens of such students, but we hear about their struggles only anecdotally or when they apply for financial aid, only to learn that they do not qualify.

Undergraduates who are California residents will pay as much as $25,000 for fees, room and board and books and supplies for the coming school year at Berkeley. It is no surprise that 70% of them rely on state and federal financial aid. But federal law prohibits making these same grants and loans available to undocumented students. They cannot even be hired for campus jobs.

How do they manage? Many are forced out of school for a semester or longer. They work multiple low-paying jobs hoping to save enough to re-enroll. It can take them many more years to graduate, yet they are determined. But other high-achieving California students never even consider attending the University of California or other universities. Even if they could pay for it, a college degree doesn't get them any closer to legal residency status, which they need to put their degrees to work.

To address the plight of undocumented students, Congress must ensure that the well-conceived and broadly supported federal DREAM (Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors) Act goes forward. The act, which provides access to financial aid and a thoughtfully mapped-out path to citizenship for qualified students, became entangled in the latest failed immigration bill. It is time to pass the act on its own merits.

Legislation that would create a California DREAM Act, offered by state Sen. Gil Cedillo (D-Los Angeles), is moving forward in the Legislature. It allows all qualified students to apply for institutional aid at the University of California, California State University and the California Community Colleges.

Financial aid and a path to citizenship is a sound and humane investment. If we provide up-front loans and grants to talented students seeking to escape generations of poverty, society will be paid back many times over. With higher education, they will be able to raise their standard of living as they become taxpaying citizens. We must seize the opportunity to adopt these well-designed state and national policies that will be good for everyone — our students, their families, our state and nation.

Why Wolfowitz Should Stay

By NUHU RIBADU

Published: May 1, 2007 New York Times

Abuja, Nigeria

FOR the past few weeks, the world has been riveted by the difficulties of Paul Wolfowitz, president of the World Bank, regarding a potential conflict of interest involving the salary of his partner, also a senior official there. With the bank’s board deliberating this week over how to handle the charges, the controversy now needlessly and regrettably threatens Mr. Wolfowitz’s presidency, which has been largely defined by his energetic support for a new Africa that is struggling to emerge.

Over the last two years, Mr. Wolfowitz has effectively directed the bank’s energies toward fighting poverty and improving human life. He is a champion of using international development institutions to deal with some of the world’s major problems. And he has been a steadfast supporter of the efforts of African organizations to rescue our people from the scourge of misrule, which leads to poverty, disease and early death.

Over the last three years, Nigeria, once the emblem of outlandish corruption, has become a leading reformer, and the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission, which I head, has been at the cutting edge of these efforts. The enormous challenges we face would have proved almost insurmountable without external help, especially from the World Bank under Mr. Wolfowitz.

When disgruntled lawmakers here tried to cut off our financing and shut down critical aspects of our operation, a World Bank grant of $5 million allowed us to bring to closure important cases of political corruption involving key members of Nigeria’s ruling elite, including members of the executive branch and Parliament.

Today our work receives accolades from all corners of the globe, and the financial and moral support of our thoughtful and courageous allies has played a crucial role in our success. In a country that never saw a single conviction for fraud or corruption before the beginning of our reform campaign, we now have 150 convictions, with 400 more cases awaiting decision in the courts. We have also recovered $5 billion in stolen property. We have brought powerful politicians and businessmen to account through the criminal justice system.

These developments are gradually improving the integrity of our national life. Two weeks ago, Nigeria had its first general election intended to pass power from one elected government to another. While the election did not meet the high standards we set for ourselves, it did reveal that for citizens, the fight against corruption was a top priority — right up there with food, health care and education. In other words, Nigerians made the same connection between runaway corruption and human suffering that Mr. Wolfowitz rightly does.

Corruption is the greatest challenge to progress across much of the developing world, and as we in Nigeria know from bitter experience, this is particularly so in Africa. As Mr. Wolfowitz remarked in a recent speech, some two million Africans die from AIDS-related illnesses each year, while nearly 3,000 African children die each day from malaria and nearly 40 million are not in school. All this, he noted, despite $300 billion in international aid to Africa over the last 20 years.

Corruption has not only produced injustice and a chronic failure to effectively manage international support, it has also led to the squandering of Africa’s considerable human and natural resources. Nigeria has made nearly half a trillion dollars from oil in less than five decades — a figure that dwarfs that of international aid to the whole of Africa. And yet, around 70 percent of Nigerians live in conditions of dispiriting poverty, on incomes of less than a dollar a day. Corruption kills far more effectively than AIDS, malaria or war.

On my recent visit to the World Bank in Washington, I was greatly impressed with the remarkable changes in policy and direction that Mr. Wolfowitz had undertaken, as well as by the diversity of talents he had convened to execute his vision of a fairer world. The bank’s secretary and two vice presidents are Africans — one was my colleague in the Nigerian cabinet. Another vice president is Salvadoran.

Mr. Wolfowitz spoke eloquently for those of us in poor countries last month when he exhorted citizens of the industrial world: “As we go back to our comfortable beds tonight, we should think about the voiceless millions who may not even have beds at all, who go to sleep hungry, sick and uncertain about their future. For many it’s literally a matter of life and death.”

And he has matched words with deeds through initiatives to promote greater international cooperation with poor countries, especially regarding the recovery of assets from pilfered resources. Effective efforts at fighting corruption cannot stop at our borders when up to 80 percent of the “grand corruption” perpetrated in Africa is dependent on international mechanisms that facilitate money laundering.

Mr. Wolfowitz has made a praiseworthy effort to halt the illicit drain of money from the coffers of poor countries. Just this simple step — denying a haven for money stolen from a poor country — addresses more than half the problem of corruption in Africa.

It would be a terrible shame to bring all these efforts to a premature halt. Mr. Wolfowitz has openly acknowledged responsibility for the mistake he made. He has apologized and expressed willingness to accept the decision of the bank’s board of directors. But the board should consider how important his error really was, especially considering that the bank’s internal documents suggest that Mr. Wolfowitz tried to follow the rules from the beginning.

The board should avoid lending credence to the widespread suspicion that Mr. Wolfowitz is really being punished for his previous role in the United States Department of Defense. And it should consider the benefit Mr. Wolfowitz has brought to countries like Nigeria.

Nuhu Ribadu is the chairman of Nigeria’s Economic and Financial Crimes Commission.

The non-aligned movement

The quality of aid matters as much as the quantity
MAIMONIDES, a 12th-century rabbi and philosopher, argued that it is better to give anonymously, like the sages who secretly placed coins under the doors of the poor, than to flaunt your generosity. Better still, he said, to pool your charity—by contributing to a tzedakah box, for example—so that neither the poor nor their benefactor know the other's identity.
The club of 22 governments who dominate foreign aid would not rate very highly by the Torah's reckoning. This week they met in Paris to measure progress on two big commitments made in 2005. In July of that year, those world leaders who gathered for the G8 summit in Gleneagles in Scotland promised to increase aid to $130 billion, and double aid to Africa, by 2010.
But giving freely only gets you past the lowest rank of benefactors in Maimonides' scheme. An earlier pledge, made in Paris four months before, would have impressed him more. Donors promised to be more self-effacing in their charity, to “harmonise” their efforts with other benefactors, and “align” them with the priorities of governments they were trying to help.
Sadly, progress on both pledges is weak.
Such uncertainties should worry a prudent African finance minister. Can he count on seeing some of the extra $25 billion the continent is promised by 2010? Of the G8 leaders who signed that pledge, half have already departed, two are on their way out, and the remaining pair will be gone before 2010. Even if donors meet the target, the aid may arrive in a sudden and unmanageable rush a year or two before the deadline.
Only about 65% of aid actually arrives on schedule, according to the OECD. Finance ministers must cope with shortfalls and windfalls. Zambia was due to receive $930m in 2005, but ended up with just $696m. Vietnam which was expecting about $400m, got roughly $2 billion.
Because the aid they receive is such a capricious, volatile commodity, governments dare not make full use of it. They could hire legions of extra teachers, clinicians and civil servants, but only if they are prepared to fire them when the aid spigot is closed. They could put AIDS-sufferers on anti-retroviral therapies, but only if they are willing to discontinue treatment once the money stops. Not surprisingly, some governments choose to hoard aid rather than spend it. In 2001-03, Ghana received an extra $1.3 billion of aid; $1.2 billion collected in the vaults of its central bank.
Aid is also poorly co-ordinated. A trio of researchers compared donors with a gaggle of crop-growers, spraying water hither and thither, leaving some plants parched, others deluged. After the Indian Ocean tsunami, according to a report in El Pais, an Acehnese girl developed measles symptoms thanks to three identical jabs from different aid agencies.
Where donors and governments do see eye to eye, there may be little need for aid agencies at all. The British government, for example, could simply write a cheque to its Tanzanian counterpart. Some donors do just this, bankrolling governments they trust, and letting them manage the money themselves. About £1.2 billion ($2.4 billion) of British aid will top up government budgets in this way next fiscal year.
Other donors are less enthusiastic. They may want to trumpet their good deeds, or have real or imagined doubts about the recipient's book-keeping and budgeting. Even countries with “moderately strong” exchequers were not always trusted to audit their aid money, the OECD notes. “The very countries that helped us reform our systems, then don't use our systems,” complains Paul Lupunga, a senior Zambian official.
The Paris declaration says that donors must be accountable to beneficiaries. For now, most prefer to please their voters.

Shackles on the AIDS Program

An expert committee has found that the Bush administration’s ambitious program to combat AIDS abroad is off to a good start but warns that restrictions imposed by Congress or by the administration are hampering efforts to slow the spread of the epidemic. These inflexible barriers are often imposed for ideological, not health reasons.
The midcourse evaluation of the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, or Pepfar, was delivered to Congress last week by a panel of experts assembled by the Institute of Medicine, a unit of the National Academy of Sciences. The program assists more than 120 countries in all, but concentrates its resources in 15 countries, mostly in Africa.
Programs to prevent the spread of H.I.V., the virus that causes AIDS, are perhaps the most important tool in that long-term fight. Yet Congress specified that only 20 percent of the money could be spent on prevention, and one-third of that had to be used to promote abstinence until marriage. More money has been spent in that area than on other prevention activities, including distribution of condoms and blocking mother-to-child transmission.
Another restriction that existed even before the creation of Pepfar (President's Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief) forbids the use of taxpayer money to give clean needles to injecting addicts, while a third requires that all antiretroviral medications be approved by the FDA, even those already approved by the WHO.
These restrictions needlessly hamper a program with great potential. Congress should eliminate them and let health professionals devise the most effective strategies.

Latin America migrant money tops aid

By Duncan Kennedy

BBC News, Mexico City

The amount of money sent home by Latin American migrant workers to their families has reached more than $62bn.

This figure now exceeds the combined total of all direct foreign investment and foreign aid to Latin America.

According to the Inter-American Investment Bank, the figure could reach $100bn in four years' time.

The biggest share of money, $23bn, was sent back to Mexico, mostly from workers living in the United States remitting small sums each month.

Foreign remittances now rank along with oil and tourism as Mexico's biggest foreign currency earner.

The Inter-American Development Bank, which supports the region with aid and other help, says the remittances will increase by about 15% a year during the next four years.

The bank describes the money as a very effective poverty reduction programme because it keeps between 8m and 10m families above the poverty line.

But it says it also means the economies of the region are not generating enough jobs to keep workers from leaving in the first place.

Another problem is that much of the money is sent back in small amounts and so it is difficult to track.

The average is between $100 and $150 a month.

That in turn makes it an unpredictable source of revenue for governments to tap into.

The bank says it wants people to get away from what it calls cash to cash flows and into account to account transfers but the bank says the recent crackdown on illegal immigrants by the US authorities could hinder efforts to get migrants to use banks.