On Tuesday, June 22, yet another chapter in Nigeria’s storied journey to good governance came to a long, slow and painful end when Honourable (read dishonourable if you like) Faruk Lawan, cap and all, was thrown into the slammer for seven years.
As the chairman of the defunct House of Representatives ad-hoc committee investigating the fraud around fuel subsidy regime in 2012, a time Nigerians had taken to the street to protest the fuel subsidy scam, Mr Lawan had been at the forefront of that fight on the side of Nigerians Or so everyone thought.
But when his committee found Zenon Oil and Gas on the list of companies benefiting from the subsidy scam, what did Mr Lawan do? He made a night trip to the company owner Mr Femi Otedola’s Abuja residence and smiling, had asked, demanded even a $3 million bribe to remove his company’s name from the list.
Of course, Mr Otedola agreed, called up his friends in government and reported the demand. Since Mr Lawan, by his antecedent in the House, had rubbed the government the wrong way on several occasion, it was a fantastic opportunity to trap him. The secret police set up a sting operation. Mr Lawan was invited to collect the bribe he had asked for, received a total of $500, 000 in two tranches and went home smiling. Until videos of him surfaced, stuffing the money into his cap.
After nine, long years, a court finally convicted Mr Lawan on three counts of bribery. His defence that he had collected the money as evidence of Otedola’s intent to bribe him was watery and thrown out by the court.
Mr Lawan had built a reputation in the House of Representatives as a brilliant, astute legislator. He was pocket-sized but in the eyes of Nigerians, he was a giant, a warrior they could count on to fight their corner even against the government. He was daubed Mr Integrity and like a crusading knight, fought with gusto and brilliance, especially against those suspected to want to cheat Nigerians. When Nigerians marched out to the streets in 2012 to protest the massive subsidy scam, they counted Mr Lawan as an ally and he led a ferocious grilling of public officials involved in that national scam.
When those videos emerged of Mr Lawan stuffing his cap with dollars, these Nigerians were stunned. What Mr Lawan did felt like a stab in the heart of the millions of Nigerians, who found a common ground to march for a cause in a rare moment of spontaneous national unity. Not one inspired by victory on a football field but one inspired by outrage at how the country and its resources are being mismanaged.
Mr Lawan’s act felt like the biblical Delilah cutting off Samson’s hair. Or perhaps more fitting, Brutus stabbing Julius Ceasar, except in the case of Brutus, he claimed he did it for the glory of Rome. The same could not be said in this instance.
It was a remarkable fall from grace, one that has been sealed by Tuesday’s court ruling, nine long years after.
In the history of Nigeria’s 4th Republic perhaps the only other fall from Grace that comes close is that of Salisu Buhari (no relation of the president), the young, charismatic legislator and first speaker of the House of Representatives, who rather zealously, dug his own political grave.
At 29, Mr Buhari was ineligible to run for elections into the House of Reps. He falsified his age and ran anyway, came to the National Assembly and charmed his way into the hearts of his colleagues and Nigerians, with a falsified master’s degree certificate from The University of Toronto. He was favoured by the zoning arrangement and his charisma and was elected the Speaker of the House. No one doubted his competence in that role for the six weeks he sat on that chair until it emerged that not only did he not have a master’s from Toronto, which he didn’t need to run for elections, but also that he had falsified his age.
It was the first scandal to rock Nigeria’s “nascent” democracy—nascent in quotes because that word ended up being abused, became an excuse for cunning politicians to explain away the many deliberate blunders they committed in those days.
Mr Buhari was removed from office, of course, removed from the chamber and convicted of forgery. He was given a laughable two years in prison or the option of N2, 000 naira in fine, which many of his supporters reached into their pockets and held out to the judge in a dramatic mockery of the judicial system. This mockery was followed up with the 2013 appointment of Mr Buhari into the governing council of the University of Nigeria, Nsukka.
The tragedy of Salisu Buhari’s case was that Nigerians were rooting for him, a fine, young man who impressed in his 15 minutes of national fame
His guilt was a betrayal. Certainly not on the scale of Mr Lawan’s, who milked an issue Nigerians were highly agitated about, an issue that had inspired nationwide protests, and had pretended to be fighting the cause of the people during the day. At night, he slunk to Mr Otedola’s Abuja residence to sell them out.
Incidentally, it would not be the only time Nigerians would be sold out during that Occupy Nigeria movement. When the Nigerian Labour Congress surreptitiously positioned itself at the head of the protests, Nigerians thought it was a good idea to have a recognised body negotiate on their behalf. But union too, like Mr Lawan, scampered in the night, this time to the presidential villa, to negotiate deals with the government that only favoured its leadership. The terms of the deals, when they surfaced in the morning, deflated the spirit of Nigerians and smothered their passion for their country.
If one was vindictive, insensitive even, one would say that Mr Lawan’s conviction was karma for that betrayal. But the reality is that it is nothing more than a pyrrhic victory. Yes, it is a win for the fight against corruption, which perhaps would not have happened if Mr Lawan had collected bribe from the right people and shared it with the right allies.
In the end, the judiciary after nearly a decade managed to turn out a high-profile conviction for corruption. The government won, Nigeria and Nigerians too won. What has been lost is the faith of Nigerians in their politicians. But then again, that was lost the night Mr Lawan lined the wall of his cap with Mr Otedola’s dollars.