25 Aug 2006 |
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| The warning signals By Reuben Abati EIGHT months to the end of the present administration, and a shorter interval to the 2007 elections, it is possible for us to identify a number of signals, which need to be analysed, and addressed, and properly noted for their significance, as living and potent threats to the political transition that Nigeria seeks in 2007. In 1998, the sudden death of General Sani Abacha provided Nigerians a divine opportunity to move the nation forward, and not surprisingly, the announcement of that momentous incident resulted in break-dancing on the streets of Nigeria. The people felt liberated, for Abacha's death marked, as it turned out, the spiritual death of military dictatorship. The surrealistic gain ascribed to this, was concretised in 1999 with the formal handing-over of power to civilians, and the beginning of Nigeria's Fourth Republic. We have had seven years of civilian rule, learning many lessons in the process, epiphanous and intriguing, frustrating but useful. Nigerians are unanimous in the assumption that the 2007 elections would represent yet another transition, the nature of which could have a definitive impact on our collective experience and destiny. The discovery at the moment, is the emergence of dangerous, warning signals, which for now point to a number of possibilities. The first danger signal is the spread of violence ahead of the elections. Nobody needs any soothsayer to confirm the pervasive impression that the 2007 elections will be violent, bloody, and murderous with the likelihood of far-reaching after-effects. Already, corpses of political figures, their blood, and the tears of their widows and survivors remind us all too, poignantly, of the underdeveloped nature of Nigerian politics. It is the politics of strife and mischief. Because government remains the easiest and safest source of instant wealth, and public position, a ready source of relevance and enhanced status, Nigerian politicians are desperate for power. They are not interested in values or ethics. Like Shakespeare's Macbeth, they are driven by blind ambition, pursued with a single-minded volition that can, in turn, bring tragedy. "This wanton destruction of life" says Ken Nnamani, the Senate President, "is an evil sign of a bleak election year." There are three possible implications of this. One, we are faced with the crisis of the politics of exclusion. Persons who are genuinely interested in public service, or those who seek to take an interest in the affairs of their nation, would be scared away from the field. Families are already holding meetings and advising their loved ones to suspend their political ambitions for now, until the Nigerian situation improves. But when will Nigeria improve? Wives of would-be political aspirants are appealing to their husbands not to turn them into emergency widows. Can anyone blame them having seen the sorrow of Mrs. Williams, and the frustrations of Mrs. Daramola, and before now, the anguish of late Justice Atinuke Ige? Almost automatically, fewer women would be interested in the politics of 2007. The gender character of political violence ahead of the 2007 transition process has been decidedly masculine. The language of political discourse has been muscular as well. The environment of politics is dominated by threats, curses, and inter-personal abuse. The second possibility is that of voter apathy. On election day, and after, it is not impossible that many Nigerians would be tempted to watch the situation at it unfolds, rather than rush to the polling booths. In effect, we seem to be preparing for a democratic transition that may not be fully participatory. The third possibility is the implication of the reign of violence for a post-election Nigeria in 2007. With arms and ammunition being smuggled into the country, and with its concentration in criminal hands, after the elections, the same weapons of destruction would be turned no longer on political opponents, but ordinary Nigerians. Those weapons could be put to even more sinister use, as illustrated by the Niger Delta experience where former political enforcers have since transformed into revolutionary demagogues. By failing to find a solution to the patterns of violence in Nigerian politics, the ground is being prepared for a more serious national security challenge in 2007 and beyond. It is sad that on this score, our situation as Nigerians promises to get worse. The second warning signal is what I have referred to elsewhere, as "the clash of the titans". Nigerian politics has always been dominated by elite conspiracy, masquerading as consensus. This elite class, exercising an illegal veto power over national processes, is diverse and complex, but its impact on national life, is nevertheless, far-reaching. The consensus among its members when it works, serves only narrow, selfish interests; it is the most potent threat to governance, and the root of the transformation of government into the equivalent of a secret society. But whenever this class implodes within, when its members fail to reach a consensus that serves collective class interest, the country also suffers. The only source of unity among members of this curious group is power and access to privileges. When their search for this target is at cross-purposes, their personal battles are transformed into an issue of national importance. They make it seem as if what is at stake is Nigeria's future, whereas their problem is that of greed. We had seen the effect of this class failure before now, in the civil war, in the coups and counter-coups that characterised military rule, the fall of the First Second and Third Republics and in the annulment of June 12 - instances in which personality differences stood in the way of national goals and objectives. Ahead of the 2007 elections, history is about to repeat itself along these same lines. The battle at the centre among key personalities: President Olusegun Obasanjo, Vice-President Abubakar Atiku, General Ibrahim Babangida, and other seen and unseen power-brokers, each one of them with supporters and followers at lower levels, could develop into a war for Nigeria's immediate future. I had argued that if these former conspirators cancel themselves out, Nigerians may gain knowledge about the conspiracy that previously held them together. But there is just that other signal: they could, in giving expression to their anger and differences, throw Nigeria into another long season of darkness. The third warning signal is the general atmosphere of uncertainty in the land. Seven months to the elections, there is no indication that Nigeria is preparing for a major historical moment. The political parties are in a great state of confusion. Political aspirants are hedging their bets. INEC, which is supposed to be the umpire, continues to boast that it is ready to discharge its responsibilities. But as at last week, it was still struggling to lay its hands on the funds that had been duly appropriated for the 2007 elections. Its Chairman and members are so emotionally involved in the politics of personalities, in the politics of difference, their independence has been called to question for this reason, in addition to the fact that they are card-carrying members of the ruling political party. The present INEC is thus grappling with a credibility crisis. Whatever happens in 2007, pundits would recall the partisanship of this electoral body and use that as basis for questioning the integrity of the elections. Such possibility is clearly foreseeable. There are Nigerians, and they are possibly in the majority, who do not even believe that the 2007 elections would take place. They are convinced that the elections may be postponed or that whenever they are conducted, the results will most certainly be contrived. For an electoral process to be credible, the people must have a sense of its ownership, they must be confident that it would be an expression of their collective aspirations. But Nigerians are in doubt. When they refer to the 2007 elections; they speak of it as if it were an abstraction or at best, a mere possibility, with all things being equal. The fourth warning signal is the crisis in the Niger Delta. Would there be elections in the Niger Delta? The face-off between state authorities and the militants in the Niger Delta would most likely reach a boiling point in 2007. The militants have proven that they are prepared to take on the Nigerian state. They are not deterred by the military clampdown that has been ordered by the Presidency. They are in fact determined to remain defiant. The worst case scenario is that in 2007, the gang of kidnappers and rebels in the Niger Delta would frustrate the electoral process in the area. How they will do this is obvious enough! Electoral officers could be abducted and killed, or INEC would spend its time in the Niger Delta negotiating the release of hostages, instead of conducting elections. Should MASSOB whose leader is in prison custody, also decide to shut down the Eastern part of the country, would whatever results that may be announced be valid? But by far, the biggest warning signal is the subsisting crisis of poverty in the land. Voter education is routinely recommended as a strategy for unlocking the resources of people's power, but as we move towards 2007, average Nigerians, those who vote on election day, are firmly in the grips of the monster of poverty. Faced with the tempting offer of money, and other incentives, they are likely to obey the prompting of their rumbling stomachs. For such Nigerians, an election season provides an opportunity for business transactions and pre-determined arrangements orchestrated by Godfathers with deep pockets. A compromised electorate creates for itself a moral and societal crisis. It is a dilemma that Nigerians are familiar with; they are bound to contend with it afresh as a reminder of the ineffectuality of the grand macro-economic permutations of the last few years, which would seem to have overlooked the challenge of social and human development, the level where progress or its absence is most felt by human populations. The year 2007 will be Nigeria's rendezvous with history. It may well be the year when the country and its people will pay a price (the exact nature of which we may not yet know) for the failure of the past seven years. Our failure, that is, to use democracy as a platform for correcting the fault lines of Nigerian history, and the many lies that bind us together. But the same questions remain: what options are available to us as a people? Apathy? Cynicism? Revolt? Protest? Should we fold our arms, and watch helplessly as the train of history creeps upon us? Our biggest limitation is our "seeming helplessness."
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