Old PDP, New PDP, Same PDP By Okey Ndibe

If you wanted proof that Nigeria is
bereft of hope, look no further than
this fact: that, on the Internet and
elsewhere, many Nigerians have gone
heady with celebration of the schism
in the (misnamed) Peoples Democratic
Party. All of last week, several
friends and acquaintances phoned to
ask why I had not tweeted (much less
written a column) on the issue.
Some of the callers wanted me to
celebrate former Vice President
Abubakar Atiku and his group for
doing something seldom seen in the
ruling party: staging a walk-out to
protest the party’s ingrained disdain
for the ethos of internal democracy.
One caller exuded cheer for a
different reason. For him, the
protesting wing of the party – now
coalesced under the “new PDP” –
represented the worst, most
reactionary elements. Their exit, he
said, had lifted the exact weight that
had inclined the PDP towards
impunity, corruption and failed
leadership. “Mark my words, the PDP
(by which he meant the Bamanga
Tukur version) is going to surprise
Nigerians by coming out with
progressive policies and fielding good
candidates in forthcoming elections.”
The majority of my callers focused on
the collateral bump they expected to
accrue to Nigeria’s “opposition”
parties, especially the APC, if the
fission within the PDP lasts or widens.
To each caller, I patiently explained
that the so-called split in the PDP
was, by any significant measure, a
non-event. It is an event only in the
most sordid, contemptible and effete
manner. To speak of the old and new
PDPs, as much of the Nigerian press
has taken to doing with an over dose
of glee, is to fall for a cheap,
semantic deceit.
The “old” and “new” PDPs are the
same PDP, period. There’s no question
in my mind that Mr. Bamanga Tukur
and Mr. Kawu Baraje – who runs the
Atiku faction – are ideological
bedfellows. And both men, along with
their respective cohorts, are actuated
by roughly the same political impulses
that move President Goodluck
Jonathan. The point, quite simply, is
that there’s no ideological
underpinning to this fake feud.
Neither camp has staked out any
remarkable principle that distinguishes
it from the other. For both sides, it’s
about raw power – which means that
the argument, in the final analysis, is
about who and who are going to
oversee the continued looting of
Nigeria’s (fast dwindling) resources,
the mindless abortion of Nigeria’s
(fast diminishing) prospects. President
Jonathan is a confused, bumbling
leader, but the members of the so-
called new PDP have offered no
systematic critique of his ghastly
presidency – to say nothing of
proposing an alternative course. Their
rhetoric is a simplistic one. It
amounts, in the end, to no more than
a bankrupt demand that an
incompetent president should
surrender the office to an
incompetent successor from a
different geopolitical zone.
The same stipulation applies, I
suggest, to Nigeria’s most visible
“opposition” parties, especially the
uneasy coalition called the APC.
Interviewed by Kayode Ogundamisi on
BEN Television, I stated that the
ostensible opposition’s brandishing of
brooms – I imagine, to signify the
sweeping away of the PDP – was
hardly a substitute for a real,
painstaking formulation of a roadmap
to Nigeria’s rescue. The gestural is
important and has its place in political
jostling, no question; yet, without a
set of principles to give spine to
gestures, all we have is silly,
sophomoric theatrics.
Nigeria awaits a political party with
the right mix of vision, conviction,
passion – and cash. A winning formula
for any serious opposition party is,
one, to point to the vacuity of ideas in
the political space and, two, to
proffer sound panaceas for Nigeria’s
deeply embedded crises and
challenges.
An opposition political party worthy of
the name ought to set out to define
an ethos and identity different from
the current ones. For a start, its
thinkers must identify the moral,
historical and developmental roots of
Nigeria’s malaise. Such a party ought
to underscore the fact that Nigeria is
far from a formed nation, and that
it’s even less an inevitable collectivity.
I have argued elsewhere that Nigeria
is, above all, a source of aggravation,
great pain, even trauma, to most of
its constituent elements. Sooner or
later – sooner, in fact, rather than
later – Nigerians will have to decide
whether this vector of agony is worth
the cost of its preservation – or
deserves to be pronounced an
irredeemably bad job.
The Igbo say, Alu gbaa aro, obulu
omenani. A rough translation: A
sacrilegious act that stands for a
year becomes accepted custom. That
saying strikes me as summing up
Nigeria’s multifarious moral crises.
Nigerians speak about combating
corruption, but many can hardly
contemplate the hauling before a
magistrate of an allegedly corrupt
former or serving head of state. So
we have a country of odd
expectations: we don’t expect our ex-
rulers to be jailed for corruption, but
we don’t let it be known that we
expect them NOT to enrich themselves
illicitly.
Nigeria has veered and wandered so
far afield in the wrong direction that
any engaged political party is called
to draw attention to the moral
dimensions of our developmental woes.
It is awful enough that Nigerians have
erratic, spotty electric power; yet, the
greater tragedy is the existence of
numerous highly organized and
powerfully connected groups
(generator importers and staff of
power corporations, among them)
determined to keep things just the
way they are. The secret is that
there’s a lot of money being made –
by a small number of people – from
Nigeria’s monumental failure.
Nigerians have permitted far too
many sacrilegious acts to fester for
far too long, acquiring the imprimatur
of acceptable conduct. We refined the
language of “stakeholders” to denote
the big-time, agbada-wearing
“thieftains” who must be appeased at
the expense of the generality of the
people. We accepted the idea that
cash-crazed godfathers may impose
their minions as candidates for one
elective office or another. We adopted
the patently ignorant idea that all
power comes from God – and began to
use it as a mask to cover the shame
of rigged elections. A man steals an
election and then compounds his act
of treason with a bizarre theological
rationalization that implicates God.
I’d be impressed the day a faction of
the PDP or one of the “opposition”
political parties begins to address the
manifold pathologies that debilitate
Nigeria. I’d like to see some faction
or party take on the obvious things
that fertilize corruption and bad
governance in Nigeria. How about
pushing for amendments that would
remove security votes from the
control of the president, governors
and local government chairpersons?
How about reshaping the immunity
clause to make it narrower, so it
doesn’t cover the president, governors
and their deputies when they commit
crimes in office? How about taking
steps to achieve a truly independent
judiciary, with judges who are both
versed in the law and ethically sound?
How about measures to ensure that
officials of electoral commissions are
consistently impartial, their verdicts
reliable? How about living by the
principle that all Nigerians, regardless
of position, are equal in the eyes of
the law? How about professionalizing
the Nigerian police and customs,
equipping them to fight criminals
instead of harassing innocent
commuters for bribes? How about
developing a healthcare policy for all
Nigerians and doing something to stop
– and reverse – the shameful state of
education in Nigeria? Above all, how
about strategies for discouraging a
cultural attitude that seeks profit in
planned, avoidable failure?
Until the Barajes and Tukurs turn
their minds in the direction of
grappling with the things that count,
my friends must excuse my absolute
indifference in their affairs. For that
matter, when the Tinubus and the
Buharis signal a fascination with ideas
that transform people and places,
instead of their current obsession with
power, I will tune in.

Please follow me on twitter @
okeyndibe