Their hands on the levers of power

Here is some evidence that those with their hands on the levers of political power in the country are systematically narrowing the democratic space and redefining democracy in terms that would make the ancient Greeks puke and the rest of the world whimper. There are 109 senators in our upper legislature. Twenty of these distinguished senators had fully or partially or peripherally held power at the state level. Seventeen were governors; one was an acting governor and two were deputy governors.

Their presence in the senate points to a trend that began in 2007, the year Nigeria completed its first uninterrupted eight years of civil rule. That year, four state governors who had completed their two terms in office, headed for the senate. It was, perhaps, a trickle then, blissfully ignored by the rest of the country, including the vocal minority. The number increased in 2011 and flowered into the current number in 2015.

It has the potential of turning into a flood, drowning the political ambition of not a few men and women across the land. It is not the way to build democracy, unless, of course, you think of Nigerian democracy marked by worst practices in the system. You do not need to consult the babalawo, I think, to see that in the next two or three election circles, the majority of the senators would be former state governors.

It is unwise to drag morality into the unfamiliar territory of politics. Still, we can interrogate the mores and the morals of those who profess democracy but act more like dictators decked out in the tattered garbs of democracy. The point is this: The state governors are the incontestable leaders of their various political parties at the state level. They are thus the chief nominating and approving officers for the senate and all other elective offices in the land. They assume the right and the prerogative to determine who goes where – the executive, the senate, the house of representatives and the state houses of assembly. Their power is absolute. And they use that absolute power absolutely to nominate themselves for the senate; or failing that, minister of the Federal Republic.

I can think of no one who would be mad enough to oppose the ambition of a sitting governor to keep the levers of the state power firmly in his hands as he journeys forth into the upper legislative chamber and plants a hand-picked successor on the seat he vacates.

Sometime in 2006, Maureen Chigbo and I interviewed Dr. Chimaroke Nnamani, who was ending his two terms as governor of Enugu State for Newswatch magazine. I asked him if he was interested in going to the senate.

He said, “Dan, I have made senators and I have made a senate president. What would I be looking for in the senate?”

The saliva, as we say in Agila, hardly dried in his mouth before I found him in the senate where he did one term. Because he was brought down by the heels on alleged corruption charges by the EFCC, he did not return to the senate. I think he believed I ought to have known he was headed for the senate. Asking him was naïve. But I had thought he meant he would not go to the senate because when king makers seek to become kings, something is bound to give. 

Still, Nnamani made a valid point. Why would a governor with absolute power to put individuals where he will, take the lesser political position where he can no longer exercise his absolute executive powers?

The answer lies in the human weakness for power. The temptation to hold on to the levers of power, absolute or peripheral, is hardly resisted by men and women who know the dangers of letting go of their hold on power. It must be truly frightening to many men and women, who face the dark prospects of letting go because of the constitutional limits to their time in the executive arm of government. 

The anonymity of post-power can be truly troubling for all men and all women. When a former governor’s hands are no longer on the levers of power, he is treated like a nobody, even by his handpicked successor as governor. The fear of being nobody after being somebody drives our politics. 

Some of the governors have already received the endorsement of the anonymous power brokers called stake holders in their states for a second term, a clear two years ahead of the next election circle in 2019. Consolidating power makes sense, abi?

The beauty of landing in the senate is that there is no term limit for a senator. Once you are in, you remain in. And that means that you continue to be in power, influencing leadership recruitment at every level – federal, state and local governments. Perhaps you do not know that if a federal agency owes you contract payment, you would be directed to get a note from a senator who, though not a party to the contract, is nevertheless recognised as the man with the authority to order an agency to respect its obligation to a contractor. Wow!

We can, if we would, look at the current phenomenon as either positive or negative in growing our democracy. On the positive side, we can argue that the translation of former state governors to senators would enhance the integrity of law-making because they come with some experience from their states in this important business of enthroning and maintaining a government of laws, not of men. But this argument would seem naive placed against the facts as we know them. Law-making by the state houses of assembly, and I speak in general terms, simply amounts to the legislature rubber stamping the whims and caprices of the state governors. Their whims drive them to make laws that divide and laws that break laws. It is not the kind of experience the nation must be anxious to tap into.

On the negative side, we can argue, I hope plausibly, that the recycling of individuals is detrimental to political pluralism in that it denies some qualified and competent men and women the chance that democracy guarantees them to seek to rule or legislate. Our democracy, whatever might be its failings, must not be allowed to become dynastic. Sadly, that is where we are headed: governors put their wives and children in the executive and the legislative branches of government. They shut out other people’s children. Fencing in and fencing out is anathema to democracy. But who cares?