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Warning This democracy is not on autopilot By EVERYBODY, or almost everybody who has been to secondary school knows about Abraham Lincoln's definition of democracy as "government of the people by the people and for the people". These immortal words came at the very end of his famous speech at Gettysburg during a memorial for those who died in America's Civil War. Of all the millions of words that have been written, spoken and shouted about democracy, these few lines by America's most quotable president have struck to the collective memory of mankind. Remarkably, Lincoln actually wrote every word of the speech in which those words featured. They did not come from the head of speechwriter, special adviser, special assistant or some other lavishly-designated aide. Lincoln was president a long time ago, back in the days before leaders surrendered their thinking caps to spin doctors, the chief priests at the shrine of that god of modern politics who is better known as the "opinion poll". When I stumbled upon a book on the Gettysburg speech which included a reproduction of the speech in Lincoln's own hand-writing along with the cancellations and alterations, goose bumps broke out on my skin. To be confronted by this evidence of the greatness of that U.S. president to whom wisdom was second nature was simply overwhelming.
But this piece is not about Lincoln. It is about the central participant in his own conception of democracy, the individual whose vote when added up with the votes of his fellows determines the success or failure of the politician seeking election. In Lincoln's view, the people are at once, the active agents and the justification for the whole democratic enterprise. Democracy is not in the final analysis about elections, it is not about campaigns, it is not even about candidates, it is about people. Without them, or to phrase it better, without us, the whole process means nothing.
At this mid-point of the current democratic experiment, it is time that we, the people, especially those of us with some understanding of what democracy is all about remembered this. This fragile democracy has no chance if we ignore or forget the fundamental fact that we have a say in what is going on, we have (or should have) some influence on the process and we should not be hesitant about deploying this influence to achieve specific positive results.
Let's get down to brass tacks. When was the last time you wrote a letter to a newspaper complaining about the rubbish heaps on your street whose evacuation you have paid for or about the traffic hold-up which daily puts you and your car under intense pressure? Have you ever walked up to the chairman of your local council to let him know that his council's failure to enforce regulations about the prescribed distance between the boundaries of houses and the road have left your street without gutters and floods have taken over the whole neighbourhood? When was the last time you took action about something which has stolen your peace beyond mumbling under your breath and making life impossible for your long-suffering family and friends with endless complaints?
It is easy to say that people in government in Nigeria don't listen. The evidence cannot be denied. Our president, governors, local government chairmen and the other important officials who daily assault our ear drums with their sirens cannot win any prizes for listening. The natural attitude to this state of affairs is to keep quiet or as Fela put it so evocatively opt for "shuffering and smiling".
In a military government, this might be the only wise response, except, of course, you are Gani Fawehinmi, Olisa Agbakoba or Femi Falana. But I submit that this option is not the best in democracy. Speaking up and complaining may not always achieve results, but not speaking up will certainly not result in any improvement.
Recently, I decided to do something about NEPA, which until recently was the silent torturer in every home in this country. After years of fighting over a phantom bill of about N20,000, I decided to pay it to spare my family the inconvenience and embarrassment of disconnections. Having paid some extra money on top of this bill, I expected a bill informing me that finally, my account with the dreaded parastatal is in the black. The next month, NEPA hit me with a brand new jumbo bill which emerged straight out of the imagination of some demented accountant in its employ. For days, I was livid with anger. Then, like a voice from heaven, I heard it: "Do not take this lying down. Do something". I quickly dispatched a letter to the nearest NEPA office letting them know, in very forthright language that a line had been drawn in the sand. So far, I have not heard from them. Last week's disconnection exercise in my area did not affect my house. I am waiting, almost expectantly, for NEPA to cut me off, and then I'll sue. There is something very liberating about not taking certain things lying down. In fact, in a country where so much has gone wrong, a horizontal position invites others to use you as a footmat. And when the people become footmats, democracy cannot rise above ground level.
The point is not that any action you take will be automatically be rewarded by a positive response. If it were that simple, Nigeria would be in a much better shape than it is today. Rather, what I am saying is that the survival and health of our democracy depends on more Nigerians doing something other than complaining. Democracy depends on feedback from the led to the leaders. If enough Nigerians share their displeasure with their representatives rather than throwing up their hands in helplessness, then we have a better chance of moving beyond the milk-teeth stage of democracy in which we have been since 1966. Just like every human being has a conscience, every lazy or dishonest politician knows that in his heart that he's not doing the right thing. Now, if he gets unambiguous feed back that those he's representing know that he's not doing well and are ready to do something about it, then he's likely to make some effort if only because of self-preservation.
Consider this: Every Nigerian belongs to a local government. Every inch of this country is part of a council. We are all, to varying degrees, under the tyranny of local governments. The refuse piles up, the potholes proliferate, the corpses in the street fester and all kinds of regulations are broken without the local government lifting an eye-brow. Now our typical response to this situation is to get loud (privately) and self-righteous. In beer parlours, in churches, in mosques, inside buses we complain bitterly that local governments are dens of thieves, councillors don't deserve to earn N125,000, all they do is share money. Why don't we write letters, mobilise, carry placards, speak to the officials? Some of us are in the habit of saying proudly that we don't know the officials, as if our ignorance is a virtue. We don't even know anything about the local governments our village are part of. Who do we expect to do the magic? Perhaps we are expecting Gani to take up the gauntlet or Tai Solarin to wake up and picket these councils or Wole Soyinka to come home and make a powerful speech. As the American would say, it is time to get real. No democracy cruises to paradise on autopilot. In the established democracies, citizens insist on making their voices heard until, finally, something is done. Martin Luther King Jnr. became the legend that we all admire by fighting injustices which are much more complex and dangerous than anything we face here. Rather than take up the chant that 2003 will be bloody until it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, why don't, we try something different? Like campaigning for decent hard-working persons and against corrupt, violent politicians or even yes, why not? running for a public office. Remember if you win, there will be one less lousy politician to worry about.
November 2001
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