Monday
February 1, 2010 |
Remember that some older columns are available
in PDF)
**********
In addition to sheer amazement, many
of us following the argument that a comatose Umaru Yar’Adua is fit to
run Nigeria must have a sense of déjà vu. Nigeria is not the only
country that falls into the hands of inept, clueless leadership. But it
may well be one of the rare countries where seemingly sane people argue
that inept leaders are indispensable.
Cast a backward glance at Nigeria’s woeful past and you’ll see examples
galore of shameless apologists who told the world that Nigeria’s fate
was bound up with that of some certified mediocrity in power.
Yakubu Gowon trumpeted his own indispensability when he sought to
persuade Nigerians that it wasn’t feasible for him to exit the political
stage in 1976. Yet, Nigeria survived Gowon’s removal in a coup led by
the late General Murtala Muhammed.
In 1983, the National Party of Nigeria deployed a variant of the
argument to justify its rigging regatta to ensure that a confounded
Shehu Shagari continued to preside over the affairs of Nigeria.
How about General Ibrahim Babangida? Even as the nation tottered under
his watch, he and his coterie tried to package him as a genius of
statecraft. Convinced by his own propaganda, Mr. Babangida set and then
sabotaged successive timetables for his withdrawal. It took his June 12
misadventure to finally expose the insincerity of his transition
program, and to precipitate his forced exit.
Then came Sani Abacha, one of the most puzzling and dangerous of
Nigeria’s cast of visionless, greedy, and tragically mischievous rulers.
A failure at everything else it takes to be a transformative leader,
Abacha achieved mastery in the art and science of sustaining himself in
power. Using a Machiavellian mix of carrots and sticks, he intimidated
or bought off much of the political class.
Week after week, a retinue of traditional rulers (with little or no
tradition) and politicians flocked to Abuja to venerate Abacha. In
stunning assaults on language and logic, they proclaimed Abacha a
“dynamic leader.” They told him that the nation would be hopeless
without him to lead it. Speaking from rehearsed lines, they pleaded with
Abacha to ignore his “disgruntled” critics and to go ahead and succeed
himself.
In the midst of this absurd theatre of worship, Abacha slumped and died.
The style and circumstances of his death were fitting: surrounded by
prostitutes, some of them imported from abroad. For the first time in
Nigeria’s history, the death of a head of state provoked spontaneous and
widespread ululation, dancing and bingeing – a fiesta of celebration.
Olusegun Obasanjo, a victim of Abacha’s repression, was brought out of
prison and – without psychiatric evaluation – installed as president. He
spent his first term, of four years, on an endless junket to foreign
countries. Then he spent the second term – which he achieved by dint of
rigging – to display his vindictive and grasping tendencies. Nearing the
end of his ruinous run as president, he and his cohorts concocted a
depraved plan: to change the Nigerian constitution to enable him to run
(and rig) a third term.
Those who championed that awful scheme told us that Nigeria could not
afford to be Obasanjoless. They claimed that he had founded modern
Nigeria – never mind that he built few roads, despite hundreds of
billions voted each year, or that his guarantee, on his “honor,” of
regular, uninterrupted power supply had turned into a $10 billion bad
joke, or that he openly disdained the judiciary, meddled with the
legislature, imposed candidates both on his party as well as voters, and
enthroned a culture of primitive pocketing of public funds and brazen
disregard for decency and ethics.
In an insult to a nation of 140 million, his stalwarts asked, “If not
Obasanjo, who?” They contended that Obasanjo, and Obasanjo alone, was
capable of husbanding the reforms they alleged that he’d initiated. That
argument, stupid on the face of it, nevertheless found traction even
with people who ought to know better. In exasperation, I asked one of
them: “What if we allowed Obasanjo to steal a third term, is he going to
guarantee us, on his honor, that he would never die? Otherwise, if he
died, would Nigerians then send a strongly-worded petition to God to
raise him from the dead to avert the very extinction of Nigeria?”
Once it dawned on Mr. Obasanjo that Nigerians were in no mood to gratify
his illicit third term aspiration, he manufactured a vengeful, do-or-die
response. First, he imposed a feeble Yar’Adua as the presidential
candidate of the PDP, and then – in an act of supreme malice – foisted
his anointed on the nation.
Obasanjo’s recent effort to rewrite the history of his imposition of
Yar’Adua was seen by many Nigerians for what it is: a bald fabrication.
Meanwhile, with Yar’Adua, Nigerians are back in familiar territory.
Since leaving on November 23 – not on his feet, but on a stretcher –
Yar’Adua seems to have fallen into a black hole. Abjectly incompetent
even in his healthiest of days, the man cannot now maintain any
semblance of being in charge.
That fact has not fazed his acolytes who are using his name to gorge fat
on Nigeria’s treasury. Michael Aondoakaa, the inner circle’s most
visible spokesman, has told us that Yar’Adua is governing Nigeria from
his hospital bed in Saudi Arabia.
For the Aondoakaas of our world, it is okay to reduce Nigeria to
Yar’Adua’s size. If Yar’Adua ends up spending six or more months in a
foreign hospital, there’s nothing wrong – in Aondoakaa’s book – with
letting Nigeria flounder, as long as Yar’Adua’s (and his proxies’)
narrow interests are served. If Nigeria must die, so be it, but Turai
Yar’Adua’s desire to reign on as “First Lady” must not be tampered with.
Where’s proof that Yar’Adua even recognizes that there’s an entity
called Nigeria much less that he is governing? Ask Aondoakaa and he’s
likely to tell you that the sick man signed a budget (a scam) or that he
spoke with the British Broadcasting Corporation for – wait for this –
fifty-one seconds!
Parts of Nigeria are still experiencing acute fuel shortages. What’s
Yar’Adua’s antidote for that? The US recently added Nigeria on the list
of nations to watch on matters of terrorism. Pray, how many times has
Yar’Adua spoken to President Barack Obama to register his objection?
Hundreds of Nigerians have perished in sectarian violence in Bauchi and
Jos. What leadership has Yar’Adua provided to calm nerves, to
commiserate with the bereaved, or to settle thousands of displaced
citizens? Nigerians continue to lose jobs as a fall-out of the nation’s
bleak economic climate. What answers has our bed-ridden Yar’Adua offered
to arrest or ameliorate the situation?
Turai and Aondoakaa are by no means the exclusive villains in this
sordid drama. Last week, I asked a Nigerian senator why they had not
moved to impeach Yar’Adua. His confessional response disarmed and
shocked in equal measure: a lot of money was being disbursed, he
confided. He said that, when legislators raised their voices against
Yar’Adua, it was often a ploy to jerk up their fees.
Sooner or later – sooner than later, my hunch tells me – this
contemptible game at the expense of Nigerians will run its course.
