We can judge how far the recent Nigerian elections fell below internationally accepted standards by the wide range of observers who cried foul. The two previous exercises — 1999 and 2003 — were marred by widespread irregularities, but on a lesser scale and at a time when everyone was still anxious to keep the military at bay.
On the surface at least, things are different now. There is less fear of the military. There is also a general mood that Nigeria’s “nascent” democracy needs to be firmed up. A patently illegitimate government, while not in itself an aberration, is more difficult to sell.
The rigging started even before any voting took place when the Independent National Electoral Commission overstepped its constitutional bounds by banning candidates perceived as unsuitable by the presidency on allegations of corruption before the fact. Among them were several gubernatorial candidates who would have won their states with ease. Those who did make it over this hurdle, thanks largely to a judiciary that has recently begun to rediscover its independence, were simply detained in Abuja while the ballot papers were recounted to produce a more acceptable winner.
In some states, no voting took place at all, yet results were declared in favour of the ruling People’s Democratic Party (PDP). In others, ballot boxes were stuffed with already thumb-printed ballot papers, usually in the house of the local PDP chieftain. Even the senate president, himself a PDP member, was moved to deplore a situation in which “any succeeding election is worse than the last one”, and promptly declared his readiness to go to jail in order to bring about an “enduring” democracy.
The government was sufficiently riled by his outburst to call his statement treasonable, although President Olusegun Obasanjo, whose style is to bluster his way through any crisis of his own making, merely advised aggrieved politicians to go to the electoral tribunal. Surprisingly perhaps, many agreed to do so, but many others have joined forces with civil society groups threatening mass action from May Day onwards to press for fresh elections. That Obasanjo will not accede to their demand can be taken as given. He knows perfectly well that the international community will agree to anything that will keep the crude oil flowing, and never mind what the international observers did or didn’t say.
In the meantime, Obasanjo’s presumed successor, Umar Musa Yar’Adua, who will have the distinction of being the first university graduate to rule this nation of 140-million, has been busy trying to assure anyone who will listen to him that he intends to be the president of all. Few are convinced, at least while tempers remain high, but he has two things going for him: lingering fear that the military might be tempted back if there was a sufficient breakdown of law and order, and the fractured nature of the country itself. “A mere geographic expression” is how one early nationalist described this colonial creation of 350 languages and two world religions, which is why any kind of organised resistance to constituted authority has always proved difficult.
A number of commentators have mooted the idea that the National Assembly might invoke the constitutional provision that allows it to assume power for a limited period for the purpose of organising elections, but this seems unlikely.
By its very composition, the National Assembly reflects the inherent divisions of a country that has never been able to speak with one voice, even in the darkest days of military rule, which means that it will be relatively easy for the executive to divide them, as it has done so often in the past.
Moreover, the majority of the federal lawmakers are coming to the end of their final terms. In a country where there is little chance of amassing wealth outside of politics, they will be more concerned with the state of their bank accounts, which brings us to the third and final weapon in the incoming presidency’s arsenal. Oil hasn’t stopped flowing despite the activities of the so-called militants in the Niger Delta, and it won’t be the first time that the executive has used the country’s fabulous resources to bludgeon its way through. Before long, the voices of “compromise” and “reason” will start to prevail and the “giant of Africa” will resume its familiar, rudderless drift.
When all is said and done, it is the Nigerian people who will once again be at the losing end of the deadly politics played out by the cabal that has ruled this country for almost half a century. That this cannot continue forever is borne out by the plummeting living standards that have resulted in higher infant and mortality rates than either Liberia or the Democratic Republic of Congo — in itself quite a feat.
Ideally, the time for change has always been now; realistically, it is still a long way off.
Adewale Maja-Pearce, the author of a number of books, is a freelance writer based in Lagos, Nigeria