By
Sonala Olumhense
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Diepreye
Alamieyeseigha (in white) and his lawyer, Mike Ozekhome, was freed two days
after he was sentenced
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By
the state pardon granted the disgraced former governor Diepreye Alamieyeseigha
last week, President Goodluck Jonathan confirmed that he does not understand
the joke.
One
thing is for certain: the joke is on him. Nigeria’s most powerful man, but the
joke is on him.
Mr.
Jonathan said something of great significance last year. In an interview with
TELL magazine, he said, “When I look at some people that shout ‘Corruption!
Corruption!’ I shake my head.”
That
was exactly three years after Jonathan took the presidency. The statement
suggested that he knew how deeply corruption was ravaging Nigeria. But neither
in that statement nor in anything else that he told his interviewers did he
appear as if he would ever do anything about it.
Clearly,
Alamieyeseigha, whom Jonathan tried to clean up last week, was not among those
shouting ‘Corruption! Corruption!’
I
am not an admirer of Jonathan. I have never admired weak or hypocritical
rulers, and last week, he reminded us he is both.
His
first defence of the Alamieyeseigha pardon was that it was done by the Council
of State, not he. Not true; it was his initiative. Even if someone else managed
to smuggle it into the agenda; even if it came from someone who was trying to
win favours from him; even if it came from an enemy who was trying to make him
look bad, he could have struck out that name, not only was it the patriotic and
responsible thing to do, it might have saved his presidency.
When
that ruse did not work, he tried to ram the decision down the throats of
citizens, declaring he had no apologies for the decision, and that Nigerians
will one day thank him for it.
When
that patronizing approach failed, Jonathan unveiled the saddest argument: that
Alamieyeseigha is a national economic asset who is responsible for the increase
in the barrels of oil now being sold by Nigeria. Besides, the President said,
the man is sorry.
This
is partly why there is so much laughter around Mr. Jonathan that he probably
interprets as applause.
But
the pardon goes far beyond that. By making it, Jonathan has effectively put
himself on trial.
Prior
to it, Nigeria was set for a 2015 election that could well have been a
referendum on Jonathan’s presidency. In this column, I have pointed out
how almost everything that Mr. Jonathan has told Nigerians has turned out to be
questionable.
As
we approached 2015, he would have had the task of justifying his track record.
That would have been a daunting task itself. With last week’s event and the
absurd justifications his government came up with, he confirmed that his
presidency is not on the side of Nigerians.
That
is why he has now unwittingly rephrased the road ahead as his own trial. I am
not sure that this is clear to Jonathan. But it is certainly clear to
many of the people who are traveling with him. In 2011, he did not have to
campaign; he simply showed up at campaign events where somebody gave him a list
of promises, tailored to meet local expectations, to read. He read the list and
moved on to the next venue.
That
is why he wound up with the astonishing list of electoral promises I posted in
this column on May 22, 2011, one week before he took his oath of office. He has
done everything since then to avoid identifying with those promises, but if he
wants to retain the job, he will have to confront them.
In
2011, he did not have to debate anyone. At the only debate at which he showed
up, he debated himself. All of that was good for a man who was being swept
along by a tidal wave of sentiment; in 2015, he will have to show up at his
trial and speak.
There
are two obvious problems here. The first is that the people to whom Jonathan
was making his promises in 2011 did not know he was from Nollywood. They
believed him; it resonated with them that as one who once “had no shoes,” he
would bring them shoes. And possibly socks.
But
Jonathan then took office, and the only people who have ascended in the world
are such men as Doyin Okupe, Tony Anenih and Alamieyesegha.
In
2015, Mr. Jonathan will not have the advantage of a soliloquy. He will
campaign, on the basis of his record or lack of it, and answer questions.
Unless Anenih and the electoral commission intend to count votes in the dark,
it was always clear before last week that Jonathan would have to attend live
debates and answer his father’s name.
That
was the picture before last week when he announced the pardon to
Alamieyeseigha, a pardon, which was stunning only because Jonathan had tried to
prepare the ground weeks earlier by declaring the man to be his mentor.
Still,
Jonathan ought to have known that the pardon was not a sale he could make. His
former boss cannot suddenly become a saint or an admired citizen simply because
somebody — anybody — has declared him pardoned. He symbolizes Nigeria’s darkest
hour.
By
pardoning the man in this way, Jonathan achieves the opposite: he alerts the
people of Nigeria to the simple wisdom that, in the end, the people who have
driven Nigeria to the edge are sticking together. These people laugh at
how easy it is. They exchange favours, from huge massive homes and prime
parcels of land in Abuja to massive government contracts and private jets.
That
is the reminder that Jonathan provided to the public last week, arguing rather
ingenuously — at the same time as he was describing Alamieyeseigha as
“hounded,” that the man is sorry.
This
explains why the most prominent feature of Jonathan’s administration is its
repeated ability to defend and explain. His government has demonstrated a
singular lack of capacity to come up with strong initiatives, but even of the
everyday clichés it has announced, think about it: when was the first time the
government accomplished something it set out to do?
The
answer is: apart from an Almajiri school he promised in the North, Never!
Instead, the government is loaded with twists and turns, circumventions and
circumlocution. He hired the ethically-challenged Okupe, with absolutely no
hint of irony, to provide muscle to the image of a weak presidency, adding to
the layers of personnel he agreed with Danjuma’s Presidential Advisory
Committee he would whittle down. It is a government of defence, the principal
business of which is to explain not how something was achieved, but why it was
not.
In
this one respect, we must concede something to Jonathan: it is consistent.
Consistent in a character of negativity and under-achievement; he has no
problems digging up dead bodies so he can argue he has provided meat.
Most
world leaders are engaged with the challenge of finding a positive message. Our
leaders send for the dung that is the product of their malice and their
incompetence and call declare it food.
That
is why Jonathan has no achievements. If you know of any, please list them next
to your name and I would be happy to publish them on this page.
But
if he seeks a way forward and an accomplishment he can beat his chest about,
let him revert the tragic pardon of Alamieyeseigha he inflicted on Nigeria last
week. It is a cynical action for a man who claims to be fighting
corruption. It is corruption winning by a landslide, and Jonathan is certain to
pay for it.
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