General Sani Abacha is nothing if not blatant. Nigeria’s military ruler is not pussyfooting around like some other former-military- leaders-turned-civilian-presidents who organised elaborate elections with the trappings, if not the substance, of democracy.
Abacha banned all political parties after seizing power in 1993. He subsequently legalised five new parties, all of which just happened to select him as their presidential candidate. After the last of the five fell into line this week, Abacha called off the oft-promised presidential election. In its place, there is to be a referendum to endorse his crowning.
Don’t expect a particularly vocal opposition campaign inside Nigeria, given the harsh treatment meted out to Abacha’s critics in recent years. Thousands are rotting in his dungeons, including prominent names once thought untouchable. Abacha has shown himself more than willing to despatch the most difficult to the gallows. And, while Nigerians can technically vote against Abacha, there is every reason to believe intimidation will be rife and the ballot anything but secret.
Probably the best that can be hoped for is a mass boycott of the referendum, which would at least affirm the general’s lack of legitimacy. Nigerians, and the rest of Africa, might be able to draw some comfort from the prospect of many more years of Abacha if he were taking his country to new heights. He isn’t. Nigeria is more divided, his subjects poorer and more pessimistic than when he seized power five years ago. They have little reason for optimism.
A return to civilian rule apparently means Abacha will swop his uniform for more traditional attire, although even that is far from certain. Either way, as president he will remain commander-in-chief of an army which now serves no one but itself.
The abandonment of any pretence of free elections is one in the eye to President Nelson Mandela and the rest of the Commonwealth after Abacha’s repeated assurances that Nigeria was on the road to real democracy and civilian rule. The Commonwealth was more than willing to give the general the benefit of the doubt even when confronted with the growing body of evidence of his true intent.
Now it will be forced to make a decision on whether to implement the limited sanctions it has been threatening for some time. Do not expect too much. Zimbabwe and Ghana are key players in deciding the Commonwealth response, and they will think twice about incurring Abacha’s wrath. Neither can the British or the Americans be relied on.
Labour’s Foreign Secretary Robin Cook came to office promising an “ethical foreign policy”, but it has already been compromised over arms sales to Indonesia. In Nigeria there is a bigger prize at stake – oil. Which is also why Washington won’t do much either.
Which leaves Mandela. He can incur a tirade of insults from Abacha’s cronies, and renew his affection among the bulk of Nigerians, by speaking up in their defence and keeping the spotlight on what should be the giant of Africa. But then again Deputy President Thabo Mbeki has already assured us that Abacha is just a victim of the West.
Your reasons, m’lud?
Richard Ingrams, the former editor of Private Eye, once drew the parallel between civil litigation and a game of Russian roulette – making the point that it is the luck of the draw, in the choice of a judge, which determines the outcome of the case.
One thing that can be said in favour of Russian roulette as a game is that it does not allow for poor losers – consciousness ceasing at the point that the outcome is determined.
Unfortunately, the game is played differently in the South African jurisdiction. Our judges are becoming so predictable that litigants are aware of the likely outcome of the case well before the trigger is pulled and they have plenty of time to lament their luck.
It came, therefore, as little in the way of a surprise when Judge William de Villiers ruled in favour of the South African Rugby Football Union (Sarfu), by rejecting Mandela’s appointment of a commission of inquiry into Sarfu’s affairs.
And although, on the face of it, the president’s legal adviser, Fink Haysom, was teetering on the brink of contempt when he suggested that another judge might have found differently, we can only sympathise with his perspective.
De Villiers is, after all, a man who fought determinedly to block the admission of blacks to the Pretoria Bar. He is also the man who took the side of the arms industry in the matter of Mail & Guardian v Denel, helping in the cover-up of a controversial arms deal involving Saudi Arabia.
Nevertheless, we are flabbergasted by the manner in which the judge delivered his ruling in such an important case as the Sarfu matter – by giving judgement without reasons. The president of the country considered the issues at stake – in effect determining the ambit of executive power – sufficiently important to delay other matters of state and appear in the witness box. But the judge could not find time to explain himself!
It all moves us to remark – “with respect, m’lud” – that De Villiers is clearly not a man whom one should allow to spin the chamber when playing the game of Russian roulette.