A government of the peoplehttp://www.punchng.com/opinion/a-government-of-the-people/
Last Monday, I was briefly “detained” by a
group of Air Force officers manning a checkpoint at the International
Airport in Lagos. I was in a “Lagos Metro” taxi, approaching the ramp
that leads to the airport’s departure level, when we encountered the
checkpoint. The men ordered the car to park and then proceeded to
announce, in that uncouth fashion we have come to associate with men in
uniform in these parts, that taxis were prohibited from going beyond
that point. I would have to alight and walk the rest of the way.
Of course, I wasn’t going to have any of
it, and so I challenged them. How does it even make sense to ban taxis
from an airport? Not finding it funny to be challenged by a bloody
civilian, they promptly informed me I would not be allowed to leave
until their “Commandant” showed up. At least, one of them gleefully
announced that I would miss my flight; that, I believe, was their
primary goal. And since they had guns, they could enforce whatever they
wanted.
I tweeted my encounter, made a few calls.
After close to an hour of standing by the side of the road, a superior
officer intervened – thanks to a connected friend. It turned out that it
was only the conventional yellow taxis – the ones with horizontal black
stripes – that had been disallowed from approaching the airport, not
the newer ones like the Metro Taxis and the Red Cabs. The armed men
didn’t know; someone had armed them with guns and sand bags, forgotten
to provide them complete information, and then unleashed them to
intimidate travellers and drivers. All of this in daylight, just outside
the busiest airport in Africa’s largest economy. (Now imagine what’s
happening in the more obscure parts of the country!)
Let’s even accept for a moment that an
airport ban on taxis is justified (it’s not, of course; how do you, in
the first place, even justify the wisdom in banning taxis – possibly the
commonest means of airport transport – from an international airport?
How does that even make sense?). There was nothing to suggest that the
decision had been communicated to the taxi drivers. My taxi driver said
he hadn’t heard; as did at least one yellow cab driver who was asked to
disembark his passengers while I stood waiting by the side of the road.
Surely, you’d have assumed that whoever is behind the ridiculous
decision would at least have made the effort to communicate it to those
it would affect. But this is Nigeria, of course; it would no longer be
Nigeria if things were done properly.
This is merely one example of the way
this country takes us for granted. In my case, I was fortunate I could
contact people who could rescue me. I could easily have missed my
flight, not because I had broken any laws, but simply because a group of
uniformed men were eager to demonstrate the power of their guns.
There’s of course a larger issue at work
here, that of government responsiveness. A question we should always ask
is this: What measures have been instituted to provide citizens a way
to seek redress in the event of mis-treatment or nonchalance by the
state or its proxies? And how open are our governments to urgently and
comprehensively addressing matters that affect the lives and business of
citizens. Imagine if, instead of me having to make private phone calls,
there was an official number to call to complain to the authorities
that my rights were being violated in the name of the state. What if
there had been a formal channel of protest to counterbalance the
irrational force of the Air Force officers?
On that score of responsiveness, the
outgoing administration performed badly. You will know by now that this
column is obsessed with citing instances that demonstrate that
nonchalance seemed to be one of the cardinal principles of the Jonathan
government. President Goodluck Jonathan somehow never seemed to possess
the capacity to be bothered by anything that really mattered. Regarding
the Lamido Sanusi allegations against the Nigerian National Petroleum
Corporation – my feeling is that had the President taken seriously what
started out as an internal government finance matter seriously, the
former Central Bank Governor would have had no reason to escalate it in
the damaging and embarrassing manner that followed. Similarly, had the
abduction of the Chibok girls been treated seriously in the early days,
it would not have hurt the standing of the government as much. With the
NLNG-NIMASA controversy in the middle of 2013, it still baffles me how
one government agency (NIMASA) managed to undermine another in such a
flagrant manner as to cause it to lose – on behalf of Nigeria – more
than half a billion dollars in revenues, let alone in reputational
capital; all of this without a word from the President or his office.
Also, look at the outcry that greeted Senator-elect Stella Oduah’s BMW
scandal, and Interior Minister Abba Moro’s state-supervised murder of 15
job-seeking Nigerians. In Oduah’s case, it took weeks for the President
to take any action; in Moro’s case, we’re still waiting.
In the months leading to the elections,
there were several complaints from foreign journalists of visa denials. I
imagined this situation was in part due to official anger and
frustration with the sort of negative coverage Nigeria has got in the
last one year over the kidnapping of the Chibok girls. But I also
imagined that much of it was the effect of Nigeria’s trademark
bureaucratic dysfunction; for several months (from late 2014 into 2015)
Nigeria didn’t have a substantive Minister of Information, whose
responsibility it should have been to handle any complaints relating to
foreign journalists’ visas. The Minister of State for Foreign Affairs,
assigned to oversee Information, was running for office (Deputy
Governor) in Jigawa State, and I imagine was spending most of his time
campaigning, not attending to ministerial work. (It wasn’t until the
middle of February that the President assigned another minister to again
“oversee” the Information portfolio.
Then, there was the diplomatic incident
involving Nigeria and Morocco; Prof. Wole Soyinka has said that
President Jonathan had no idea Morocco had recalled its Ambassador to
Nigeria until he (Soyinka) mentioned it to him in a conversation days
later. “He (Jonathan) was not aware that for about five days the media
had been absolutely hysterical with this embarrassing situation between
the two,” Soyinka told the London Guardian a few weeks ago. “It was that
very night that he made a public statement about it for the first
time.”
It now seems to me that the outgoing
government’s greatest achievement is this: It has written the most
comprehensive “How Not To Run A Country” manual in the democratic
history of Nigeria. That manual should now be studied “cover-to-cover”
by the incoming Buhari-Osinbajo administration. There has to be a strong
effort to create channels of communication and escalation for ordinary
Nigerians, so that people can feel like they matter to the government.
The government needs to demonstrate that it can put the well-being of
its citizens over and above that of misbehaving government officials. It
should quickly position itself as a government that listens to the
wishes and complaints of citizens, and that, unlike its nonchalant
predecessor, it can move mountains for the sake of an ordinary citizen.
Nigeria is full of aggrieved citizens — at home and abroad — and any
government that intends to succeed ought to make it a priority to attend
to these grievances and channel them into its policy response pipeline.
It won’t be a convenient stance to adopt,
and Nigerians can be a difficult lot to govern. But public service was
never meant to be a state-funded vacation; and anyone unable to put in
the hard, often thankless effort it demands should waste no time
stepping aside and finding something else to do.
Follow me on Twitter: @toluogunlesi
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