INSS: WHEN WORKERS' MONEY BECOMES A BANK FOR CORRUPTION

There are times when a country can no longer treat certain scandals as mere individual transgressions and is forced to view them as symptoms of an institutional disease. What happens cyclically at the National Social Security Institute (INSS) belongs precisely to this category. We are not dealing with an isolated episode, a minor administrative irregularity, or the deviant behavior of an employee who decided, alone, to misappropriate public funds. We are facing a worrying succession of cases, involving directors, managers, businesspeople, and administrative structures, which raises an uncomfortable question for the Mozambican state: why does the INSS remain so vulnerable to corruption, despite so many scandals, lawsuits, and promises of reform?

The most recent case has once again placed the INSS (National Social Security Institute) in the spotlight. In April 2026, the Director-General Joaquim Siúta, the director of the financial area, the head of acquisitions, and a businessman were arrested as part of investigations related to the alleged manipulation of public tenders to embezzle funds. Subsequently, the Public Prosecutor's Office accused INSS officials and others involved of crimes related to embezzlement, corruption, and collusion, pointing to a sum exceeding 433 million meticais.

It is important to emphasize, out of respect for the rule of law, that an accusation does not equate to a conviction. The accused have the right to a defense, to due process, and to the presumption of innocence. But it is also legitimate for society to ask questions. And, in this case, these are questions that are too serious to be stifled by procedural formalities.

Why do the scandals at INSS (Brazilian National Social Security Institute) seem to never end?

Why does an institution fundamentally funded by employee contributions continue to exhibit such serious weaknesses in its control mechanisms?

Why is it that the top officials of an institution of this nature are repeatedly able to operate in an environment where millions of meticais can be moved in an allegedly irregular manner?

And, above all, who is politically responsible when corruption ceases to be an exception and begins to take on routine characteristics?

The INSS (Brazilian National Social Security Institute) is not a private company owned by its managers. It is not a personal fund of any executive. It is not an emergency fund for any political party. It is a public institution designed to manage resources from worker and employer contributions to guarantee social protection.

Every metical that enters the system represents work. It represents a salary that is already subject to taxes, contributions, and other obligations. For many Mozambican workers, it means taking away a portion of income that is already insufficient to meet the basic needs of their families. Therefore, when millions of meticais disappear or are put to use in fraudulent schemes, we are not simply facing an attack on the State. We are facing a direct attack on Mozambican workers.

That is why the INSS (Brazilian National Social Security Institute) cannot continue to be treated as if its resources were ownerless money.

These resources have owners. They are the workers, pensioners, beneficiaries, and families who depend on social security.

The problem becomes even more serious when we realize that this is not the first time the INSS (National Social Security Institute) has been associated with scandals of this magnitude. There are records of cases involving millions of meticais, including old cases in Tete, schemes related to false beneficiaries, cases involving the acquisition of aircraft, and other episodes that reached the courts. A recently published survey recalls several of these episodes and questions precisely whether the new case will represent a rupture or just another chapter in a seemingly endless cycle.

And here we arrive at the central point of this Yellow Card: a system that repeatedly produces the same type of scandal needs to be held accountable, beyond just the individuals who are caught.

Arresting a director may be necessary.

It may be necessary to prosecute a manager.

Convicting a businessman may be necessary.

Recovering the embezzled money is essential.

But none of this will be enough if the system that allowed the diversion remains intact.

The story of Maria Helena Taipo is one of the best-known examples of this reality. The former Minister of Labor was sentenced in 2022 to 16 years in prison for crimes of embezzlement and economic participation in business dealings, in a case related to the misappropriation of funds belonging to Mozambican workers in South Africa and alleged bribes related to contracts involving the INSS (National Social Security Institute).

The Taipo case should have served as a powerful institutional vaccine.

It didn't work.

And this is perhaps the most worrying part.

When a major scandal occurs, the State promises to strengthen control mechanisms. Then come audits, investigations, inquiries, arrests, and trials. For a while, there's a feeling that something has finally changed. But, a few years later, another scandal emerges, with different names, different mechanisms, and often even more frightening sums of money.

It is at this point that society stops believing it is facing a succession of rotten apples and begins to suspect a structural problem within the tree itself.

The problem of corruption in Mozambique cannot be analyzed solely by the number of people who are arrested. It must be analyzed by the system's capacity to prevent crimes from happening.

And here the State has failed.

It has failed because prevention remains too weak.

It has failed because certain public institutions accumulate too much concentration of financial power in the hands of a few leaders.

It has failed because oversight mechanisms often act after the money has disappeared, instead of preventing it from disappearing in the first place.

It has failed because internal audits do not always have the necessary independence to confront powerful leaders.

And it has failed because, in a political system deeply dominated by one party force, there is always the risk that the boundaries between the state, the party, and private interests will become dangerously blurred.

One must be very careful here: one cannot assert, without judicial proof, that the ruling party ordered or directly participated in a particular corruption scheme. That would be replacing investigation with a premature political condemnation. But it would also be naive to pretend that the political structure of a state does not influence how public power is exercised.

Mozambique has a long history of a single party dominating the state apparatus. When the same political organization governs for decades, it is inevitable that networks of personal, political, and administrative relationships will develop. The danger begins when these networks cease to serve the public interest and start protecting private interests.

It is precisely there that the perception of the so-called "blue bag" arises: the idea that certain public institutions have resources available to be used according to political, economic or personal conveniences.

If this perception exists in society, the State has an obligation to combat it.

And the fight is fought with transparency, not with speeches.

The fight is fought by allowing truly independent audits.

The fight is fought by publishing contracts.

The fight against corruption is achieved by making public tenders transparent.

The fight is fought by protecting whistleblowers.

Combating this by holding accountable those who authorize suspicious transactions.

The fight is fought by tracking the whereabouts of the money after a conviction.

And it is combated, above all, by creating a culture in which political office ceases to function as a shield of protection.

The recent INSS case becomes even more disturbing because, according to publicly available information, the investigations have involved top officials of the institution and allegations related to public tenders. The case led to the pre-trial detention of four defendants, although the authorities have made it clear that pre-trial detention does not constitute a conviction.

There is, therefore, a particularly cruel irony: the institution responsible for protecting workers against the uncertainties of the future becomes, itself, vulnerable to the irresponsibility of those who should be protecting it.

The worker is contributing today in order to have some security for tomorrow.

But how can we trust in tomorrow when resources intended for social security are involved in multi-million dollar schemes?

How can we ask workers to be punctual with their contributions when news emerges of hundreds of millions of meticais being involved in corruption cases?

How can you convince a young worker to believe in institutions when they see public officials getting richer while wages remain low and social services remain weak?

This is the economic and moral dimension of corruption.

Corruption doesn't just steal money.

He robs hospitals.

He robs schools.

Highway robber.

He steals pensions.

It steals opportunities.

It steals trust.

And above all, it steals the future.

This is why countries with weak institutions face enormous difficulties in developing. Economic development does not depend solely on natural resources, foreign investment, or large projects. It depends on the existence of predictable, accountable institutions capable of protecting public funds.

A country may possess gas, coal, minerals, fertile land, and a young population. But if a significant portion of its resources is absorbed by networks of corruption, development becomes a perpetually postponed promise.

Endemic corruption creates an economy where proximity to power can be worth more than competence.

It creates businesspeople interested in public contracts instead of productivity.

It creates employees who are more concerned with favors than results.

It creates leaders who confuse authority with impunity.

And it creates citizens who begin to believe that the only way to prosper is to know someone within the system.

This is perhaps one of the greatest defeats of a Republic.

Therefore, the Government deserves a Yellow Card.

Not because all leaders are corrupt.

Not because all public officials are involved in schemes.

And even less so because all responsibility can be automatically attributed to a political party.

The Yellow Card is for the governance system that has yet to prevent such a sensitive institution from continuing to be plagued by large-scale financial scandals.

It stems from the inability to transform past cases into structural reforms.

It is institutional tolerance that allows leaders access to enormous public resources without sufficiently robust control mechanisms.

And it is the slowness with which the State often recovers the misappropriated funds that is attributed to it.

The country needs more effective anti-corruption legislation and, above all, rigorous enforcement of existing legislation. Increasing penalties on paper is not enough. It is necessary to guarantee specialized financial investigations, confiscation of illicitly obtained assets, effective asset recovery, accountability of the ultimate beneficiaries of the schemes, and independent oversight mechanisms.

It is also necessary to discuss a fundamental issue: the higher the responsibility of a leader, the greater their responsibility before the law when they use their position to harm the public interest.

Those who misappropriate funds intended for thousands of workers cannot be treated as if they committed a common administrative offense.

Those who use public authority to favor fraudulent companies or schemes cause incomparably greater collective harm.

Public service should mean more responsibility, not more protection.

And there is one rule that Mozambique needs to definitively consolidate: no party, no rank, no position, no political friendship, and no economic influence can be above the law.

If a minister is guilty, he must answer for it.

If a director-general is found guilty, he must be held accountable.

If a member of parliament is guilty, he must answer for it.

If a businessman is found guilty, he must be held accountable.

If a low-ranking employee is found guilty, they must be held accountable.

The justice system must be blind to the statute and rigorous in the face of evidence.

But it must also be independent enough to investigate who holds positions of power.

The INSS case therefore represents much more than the possible misappropriation of hundreds of millions of meticais. It is a test of the Mozambican state's ability to prove that it has learned from its own mistakes.

The government cannot simply announce arrests. It needs to explain how it got to this point. It needs to present reforms. It needs to strengthen internal and external audits. It needs to guarantee transparency in tenders. It needs to protect workers' resources. It needs to recover the money if the courts confirm the misappropriation. And it needs to demonstrate that no one will be protected by their proximity to power.

Because, in the end, the question isn't just about how many millions were embezzled.

The question is how many millions could have been used to improve the lives of Mozambicans if they hadn't been captured by corruption.

And this bill doesn't just appear on bank statements.

It's in the pensions that things could be better.

It's in the services that could function better.

It is in the trust that is lost.

It lies with the young people who leave the country because they don't believe in the institutions.

It is the workers who contribute today without knowing if tomorrow they will find an institution sufficiently honest to guarantee them what they are entitled to.

The INSS (Brazilian National Social Security Institute) cannot continue to be in the news for the same reasons.

There have already been too many scandals.

There have already been too many investigations.

There have been too many promises already.

There have already been too many individual convictions without a proportional transformation of the system.

The time has come to transform every scandal into reform.

If the courts prove the accusations in the current case, then those responsible should be severely punished under the law. If they do not prove them, then they should be acquitted. But, regardless of the judicial outcome of each case, the State must answer the question that remains unanswered: why do conditions continue to exist that put millions of meticais belonging to workers at risk?

Mozambique needs more than just more prisons.

We need institutions that make corruption difficult.

It's not just about speeches against theft.

You need systems that make theft detectable.

It's not enough to just have leaders who promise zero tolerance.

We need leaders who accept maximum transparency in the management of public funds.

And above all, it needs a political culture in which the party governs, but the state belongs to the citizens.

The INSS (Brazilian National Social Security Institute) is not a money pit.

It is not the property of managers.

It is not the property of the ruling party.

It is the social heritage of Mozambican workers.

And when someone improperly handles this money, they are not only stealing from the state.

It's robbing the worker who wakes up early, works, receives a meager salary, and still fulfills their obligation.

For all these reasons, the Government of Mozambique receives this Yellow Card: not only for today's scandal, but for its inability to prevent us from having to write exactly the same text tomorrow, only changing the names of those involved and adding a few more zeros to the account of the damage.

A country does not develop when its resources are diverted faster than its institutions can monitor them.

And Mozambique can no longer continue to normalize what should outrage it.