2023 Elections and the Road Less Travelled By
Chido Onumah
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost
At
the end of this month, other things being equal, Nigeria’s major
political parties, the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) and
the opposition Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), will select their
presidential candidates for the February 2023 general election. By
hook or by crook, one of these two candidates will emerge president
next year.
It will be asking for too much to request Nigeria’s
dominant political class to spare a thought for the nation. But we
are duty-bound to make this plea, not because we think this class
has the disposition or capacity to change anything but because the
metaphorical Nigerian egg, according to Tim Akano, is about to
crack. Enlightened self-interest demands that we do not force this
crack from the outside.
Two tragic events, among many, in the last one
month—the decapitation of a military couple and the immolation of
Deborah Samuel—and the mute indifference of those whose
constitutional duty it is to protect lives and property as well as
maintain law and order and those who are lining up to replace them,
is a cruel reminder that the best of 2023 can’t and won’t scratch
the surface of the existential crisis facing Nigeria.
It is unfortunate that Nigerians have to endure these
tragedies which have become common features of our national
existence. Of course, nothing can justify the reprehensible practice
of a nation preying on its citizens. When that happens, it calls to
question the foundation and future of that nation; it shows us how
flawed that nation is. So, you wonder why the political class is
fixated on 2023 and why those who are aspiring to lead the country
are not taking a stand on this crucial question. It is a pointer to
not only how unprepared they are, but also their lack of candour and
the superficiality of their ideas—no vision of the kind of country
they want to lead and no faith in that country. Faith in
Nigeria—even though our motto is unity and faith, peace and
progress—is a scarce commodity among our political class.
Each time I discuss our pitfalls as a nation with
younger compatriots, I like to reference a 2004 essay titled, “The
Path to Nigeria's Greatness: Between Exceptionalism and Typicality”
by Prof Ali Mazrui, one of Africa’s foremost political scientists.
In that essay, to mark the 90th anniversary of the amalgamation of
Nigeria, Mazrui memorably observed, “There are indeed certain
attributes which make Nigeria strikingly unique in Africa—setting it
apart in configuration from all other African countries.” In
summary, these attributes include its size, the human and natural
resources, and of course, what appears to be a balance of forces in
the geo-political and religious configuration of the country.
Nigeria is like no other country; no other country is like Nigeria.
So why has this propitious exceptionalism not worked
for Nigeria? Perhaps, the answer lies in Nigeria’s typicality. “Some
particular ups and downs of the country may be typical of the entire
continent,” Mazrui wrote about Nigeria. “To understand Nigeria is to
comprehend this dialectic between the exceptionalism of Nigeria in
the African configuration and the typicality of Nigeria as a mirror
of the continent…Nigeria is typical of Africans also because of the
swings between tyranny (too much government) and anarchy (too little
government). When under military rule, Nigeria leans towards tyranny
(too much government), when under civilian administration, Nigeria
leans towards anarchy (too little government).”
I will expand Mazrui’s thesis to say there is
something sinister about Nigeria’s typicality, which undergirds the
mutual fear and loathing and explains the current anarchy. The idea
of Nigeria is premised on conquest—conquest of people and
resources—and has been sustained by new forms of domination and
oppression. For far too long, we have refused to confront this
menacing typicality. I do not know how much longer we can ignore it.
We seem to have arrived at the crossroads of what political
scientists refer to as anocracy—a state that is neither autocratic
nor democratic. It is a dangerous place for a country to be. Each
tragedy reinforces the need for us to step back and properly answer
the fundamental question of nationhood that began more than six
decades ago.
From terrorism to banditry to countless sub-national,
ethnic, political, religious, cultural, and environmental
skirmishes, we have arrived at the “Door of No Return,” that
infamous point through which millions of Africans were forced onto
slave ships headed for the “New World.” What do these social and
political phenomena tell us about our country? They tell us that
Nigeria is a cauldron of repressed rage fuelled by overt injustice,
and to keep it together, we must heed the bellowing orchestra of
minorities (whether ethnic, political, economic, religious, or
social), to borrow the title of Chigozie Obioma’s widely acclaimed
novel.
Perhaps, 2023 offers us a rare chance to revisit the
vexed questions of belongingness, inclusivity, equity, and justice,
which to a large extent are driving the discontent and disquiet
across the country. One of the most profound statements by a
Nigerian politician in this regard is credited to the late Chief
Bola Ige, Second Republic governor of Oyo State and Fourth Republic
minister for power and later justice, who was assassinated (as a
serving minister) on December 23, 2001. According to Ige, “There are
two basic questions that must be answered by all Nigerians. One, do
we want to remain as one country? Two, if the answer is yes, under
what conditions?”
Simply put, we must renegotiate Nigeria—through a new
constitution—that will recreate the country in the image of
Nigerians of the 21st century. That process is not a
silver bullet. In fact, it could lead to the dismantling of Nigeria
as we currently know it. But, importantly, that unravelling will not
come at the cost of the blood of millions of citizens. And if we get
it right, it can lead to the glorious dawn of our exceptionalism.
Nation building experiment is a tough but rewarding one; that is,
for people who are genuinely committed to the process.
Whether it is power sharing, affirming secularity or
religious plurality, protection of minorities, and everything in
between, we must constantly defer to the default position that
Nigeria is a country of diverse nationalities with religious and
socio-cultural peculiarities negotiated as a federation at
independence in 1960. Every decision we make must largely reflect
this heterogeneity. To do otherwise is to court disaster. The
central question of the 1999 transition was to return to civilian
rule. The central question in 2015, when the current monstrosity
came to power, was the prospects of a party-to-party transition
after 16 years of PDP’s misgovernance. We seem to have come full
circle. The central question in 2023 will be (re)negotiating
Nigeria’s unity. Let’s forget all the talk about fixing the economy,
about GDP, and tackling insecurity. Without a country we can’t do
anything. Let’s not repeat the errors of our tragic past.
We shouldn’t wait to get to the precipice before we
go to the negotiation table. So, when you hear our ruling class use
such weasel words as “the unity of Nigeria is non-negotiable,” it is
important to ask them the nature and purpose of this “unity.” The
unity of Nigeria is not a problem. The challenge is the nature and
purpose of that unity. Is it a unity based on trust, equity, and
respect or one conditioned by age-long cavalier beliefs of conquest
and domination?
As 2023 approaches, the political class is running
around like a headless chicken, claiming to have the magic wand to
“fix Nigeria.” Their managerial philosophy and approach to the
Nigerian crisis, which is foundational, tells you they are in it for
what they can get.
My admonition is that as a nation we shouldn’t be
afraid to walk the road less travelled. To paraphrase the famous
quote on fear from the first inauguration speech of Franklin D.
Roosevelt, the 32nd president of the United States, the
only thing we have to fear is…fear itself—irrational and unjustified
fear which paralyses sorely needed efforts to strengthen the unity
of Nigeria. |