|
Certain dates attain a profound significance in the history of a nation. For us Nigerians, October 1, being our independence day, certainly ranks high up on the list of such dates. January 15, Remembrance Day is another such date. On this date in 1966, a band of young idealistic (some would say chauvinistic) army officers overthrew the First Republic
in what they called a revolution. Their actions indirectly led to the Civil War. On Remembrance Day we commemorate the sacrifices of the Nigerian armed forces in the course of the struggle to keep Nigeria one.
Of late, June 12 has assumed a contentious significance in the annals of our history. The contention is between those who see the June 12, 1993 presidential elections as a watershed in Nigerian politics and those who see it as one of the many potholes on the road to the civil rule, undeserving of greater mention than say, August 17, 1985, the date on which a certain gap-toothed army general seized power and declared himself military president. The advocates of June 12 also see the events that followed – General Ibrahim Babangida’s annulment of the election, MKO Abiola’s ill-fated campaign to actualize his electoral mandate and the reign of terror unleashed on the nation by General Sani Abacha as part of a narrative that must be preserved by according June 12 its rightful place in our history.
The debate over June 12 recurs every year with some south-western states observing a public holiday and the rest of the country generally carrying on as usual. Most galling to the apostles of June 12 is the observation of May 29 as Democracy Day, a tradition installed by the former president Olusegun Obasanjo. Obasanjo was a direct beneficiary of Abiola’s tragic demise. Without the death of Abiola, the eruption of sentiment for a Yoruba president that provided a platform for Obasanjo’s own presidential bid would not have emerged. His refusal to recognize June 12 or to spare more than a paltry acknowledgment of Abiola’s role in the emergence of his presidency, while inflating the importance of the date of his own inauguration, was and still is regarded by many of his critics as an example of egomaniac ingratitude.
In some quarters, the problem with June 12 is that Abiola is its symbol. Abiola is the most unlikely martyr for democracy ever conceived by Nigerian politics. His antecedents as a wealthy capitalist, a crony of the high-powered members of the ruling military elite, scarcely indicated any predisposition to populism. On the other hand, he was renowned for his philanthropic spirit. Though a man of immense means, his was a grass to grace story forged in the furnace of intimate acquaintance with poverty and deprivation. As such, he was fluent in the earthy language of the dispossessed and the downtrodden. In that sense, he was fairly remarkable. Abiola brought his immense persona and his common touch to his presidential bid. His campaign dubbed “Hope 93” resonated with the masses, not least because he made poverty eradication a key plank of his bid. His savvy and the general sense of optimism about the return to civil rule infused the electorate with an enthusiasm not seen since then.
The annulment of that election and the subsequent tragedy that unfolded is now part of history. There are those who see the odyssey of Abiola as a sort of morality tale. He was a personal friend of Babangida, a man who had come into wealth in part through his close connections to the military. It was the same military that subverted and betrayed him. The saga reminded one of the saying that those who ride on the tiger will end up in its belly.
Yet, June 12 is larger than the Abiola persona and all astute watchers of Nigerian politics perceive this. While a grave injustice was committed against Abiola, an even more grievous injustice was perpetrated against the Nigerian people. The repercussions of that crime still haunt us. The truly remarkable thing about June 12 was that it upset the form book. Abiola and Babagana Kingibe were an all-Muslim ticket. He, a Yoruba paired with a Kanuri Muslim. The combination violated all the precepts of Nigerian political tradition. Conventional wisdom had it that a presidential ticket had to reflect ethnic, religious and geopolitical balance. That meant that a Muslim had to pick a Christian running mate and vice-versa. A northerner had to pick a southerner and vice-versa. As a southern Muslim, Abiola had been expected to pick a northern Christian. His opponent, Bashir Tofa had observed the rule by picking Sylvester Ugoh, an Igbo Christian as his running mate. Abiola broke all the rules by picking a northern Muslim. Some pundits predicted that Abiola would lose because he had broken the cardinal rule of Nigerian politics.
On June 12, Nigerians themselves rewrote the rules by voting for the all-Muslim ticket of Abiola and Kingibe. The significance of this vote has been largely subsumed in the inflation of the Abiola persona. Nigerians did not just vote for Abiola and Kingibe; they were in effect, making profoundly radical statements about the complexion of governance they wanted. They were voting to show that Nigeria is more united than politicians and pundits give her credit for. They were voting to show that they wanted to judge contestants by qualities other than their ethnicity and creed. In these respects, June 12 was a transformative moment for Nigerian politics. As big as Abiola was, what occurred on that day was bigger. By annulling Abiola’s electoral victory, Babangida and his henchmen were in effect quashing the choice of millions of Nigerians for a different kind of politics.
Abiola may have been astute enough to realize that June 12 wasn’t about him. Fortuitously, he had been chosen as a vessel to hold the expectations of the Nigerian masses for a politics not driven by ethnic, religious or sectarian sentiment. This was why, in addition to his pride, he refused to take a hefty pay-off and relinquish his mandate. It was why he refused to be bought and why he refused to negotiate much later, after the demise of his jailer, General Abacha. Somehow, in his years of enforced solitude, Abiola had realized that what he regarded as his mandate was something eminently non-negotiable. His makeover as a symbol of democratic hope was complete. For refusing to take the low road of “compromise,” especially in a clime where honour and integrity are commodities for sale, Abiola deserves acclaim.
In the years that have followed, Babangida and his apologists have engaged in intellectual contortions in a bid to justify the former dictator’s crime against the future. Precisely why the election was annulled remains shrouded in the mists of conspiracy and intrigue. From bits and pieces of historical evidence, a fairly plausible picture emerges. It is possible that Babangida truly wanted to hand over to a democratically elected regime.
Every thing in his psychology suggests that he would have wanted to go down in history as the architect of Nigeria’s democratic renaissance. He had banned undesirable politicians, whom he labelled “old breed” and promoted the “new breed” in their stead. In so doing, he had also banned Shehu Musa Yar’Adua. As a prince from Katsina and a retired army general who had been General Obasanjo’s deputy in the 1970s, as well as a successful tycoon, Yar’Adua had the clout and the resources to win the presidency of Nigeria. He was almost certainly going to win it in 1992 before Babangida scuttled his ambitions. Babangida did this most likely with the belief that he was shaping a political field in which he could later contest and win a return to the presidency.
One of Babangida’s heroes is Dwight Eisenhower, the American general who later became president of the United States. It is possible that Babangida saw himself following in the footsteps of his hero, a journey already presaged by his insistence on the novel title of military president rather than Head of State. It might also explain why unlike most dictators, throughout his time in power, Babangida exuded the charm and bon homie of one seeking electoral approval and popular affection. It was with this charm that he won to his side much of the liberal elite and the intelligentsia. Ultimately, he was held hostage by the clique of military officers that he had relied on to seize and maintain power. The military had become a huge political party and the right to succeed Babangida was being ardently contested by certain top generals. It is possible that Babangida annulled the June 12 election to avert harm to himself and his family. Being a keen student of military politics, Babangida was surely aware that two of the five Heads of State had been assassinated in while in office. Annulling the victory of his friend, Abiola would be a small price to pay to prevent an untimely end. These internecine intrigues in the military may have accounted for the ambiguous nature of Babangida’s exit from office and the eventual emergence of General Sani Abacha as Head of State.
In any event, the repercussions of that annulment now inform the dysfunction of Nigerian politics. Following that action certain myths took root in the popular imagination. The annulment was interpreted as a design by the north to hang onto power at any cost. The campaign for a southern Nigerian presidency gained momentum. The key questions and issues were framed in ethnic and religious hues. Could a Christian or a southerner ever be allowed to lead the country? The concept of zoning was devised to solve this problem by rotating public offices across Nigeria’s geopolitical zones. Under the terms of this arrangement, Obasanjo emerged as the president in a contest zoned to the south-west ostensibly to assuage the feelings of the Yoruba after the death of Abiola. The current Yar’Adua presidency was also thrown up as a consequence of the return of power to the north under the same terms.
Zoning is possibly the most odious doctrine ever conceived by the political class and it holds the seeds for the destruction of our current effort at civil governance. Firstly, it is an implicit surrender to the politics of sectarianism. By limiting the right to seek public office to one zone, it amounts to an undemocratic abbreviation of the political space and an admission of a lack of confidence in our electoral process. Worse still, in the unedifying tradition of Nigerian politics, zoning is being replicated at various levels from senatorial seats to local government chairs. Zoning ensures that the best Nigerians cannot aspire to lead their country, and therefore promotes a kakistocracy.
Even the terms of the zoning doctrine are ambiguous to say the least. In theory, political offices ought to be shared among six geo-political zones. If this was strictly the case in practice, Obasanjo’s eight years in office would be the south-western turn. Why then wasn’t a south-south or a south-eastern or even a north-central presidency canvassed? Why was a northern presidency canvassed so vigorously? Should Yar’Adua be regarded as a northern president or as a north-western president, in which case, a north-eastern presidency featuring say, Babagana Kingibe or former Vice-President Atiku Abubakar might then emerge? Which zone will produce the next Nigerian president and how will that be decided? What would qualify the south-south, for instance, at the expense of the south-east or the north-central? These riddles reflect the deeper crisis of syntax and identity that ails Nigerian politics and the doctrine of zoning in particular.
An especially pressing concern is how we can reconcile the zoning doctrine with the constitutional order. To take a hypothetical example, if President Yar’Adua were to suddenly expire in office or become incapacitated for any reason, the constitution states that Vice President Goodluck Jonathan should take over. In that event, would Jonathan’s ascension be regarded as a completion of the Yar’Adua’s northern turn for the presidency or as the turn of the south-south to occupy Aso Rock? In the latter case, would the north or north-west get a chance to round up its son’s tenure in office? Would Jonathan be entitled to run in 2011 on his own – or would he once again become a running mate to another northerner selected to replace Yar’Adua?
Clearly, zoning is gestating chaos and a future constitutional crisis. At best, it will only sustain the culture of mediocrity that has paralyzed governance. The head-splitting riddles posed above would have been unnecessary if the real significance of June 12 had been allowed to transform our politics. We must now ponder the fact that an all-Muslim ticket or an all-Christian ticket is virtually inconceivable in today’s political culture. The only viable option left is for this generation of Nigerians to recapture the essence of the statement of intent which this country made on June 12, 1993. We need politicians and statesmen who can translate that statement into an agenda for a new kind of politics.
Over the years, June 12 advocates have campaigned to have that date enshrined in the national memory and Abiola immortalized. Abiola’s face may end up on a commemorative stamp; his bust may get a place in Aso Rock and June 12 might even be finally recognized by the federal government. These are however merely symbolic even if weighty gestures. Few Nigerians these days can articulate the significance of January 15 or remember whose face is on the ten naira note. A public holiday on June 12 or Abiola commemorative stamps will meet the same fate. Such gestures wouldn’t be wrong but the best way to celebrate June 12 is to actualize the message Nigerian voters delivered all over the country fifteen years ago – it is to bring about a new climate in which Nigerians are judged by their character and competence rather than their creed or ethnicity.
|
Authors 
Posted by Robot| 22.09.2008 06:15