Nigeria has always struggled with its national identity. The narrative of our
nationhood has remained more aspirational than practical. In debate and policy,
it is common for Nigerians to try and define who they are and where they are
going.
In
Chinua Achebe’s words, ‘being a Nigerian is abysmally frustrating and
unbelievably exciting'. The excitement comes from what is still possible,
but the frustration is a reflection of how miserable we feel today.
Ideally,
there should be a connection between all of us because of shared history and
geography. This should be a nation that matters, first to us, then to Africa
and finally to the world. But the problem is we have not yet fulfilled our
apparent potential to become a powerful nation-state. Unfortunately, we have
not yet agreed on the idea that makesus matterand how that defines everything else.
Who are we?
We
need to answer the questions of why we exist as a nation and the benefit of our
existence to every citizen. Nigerians understand the basic structure of our
government in terms of institutions, agencies, and political actors. We know
the symbols of our state; our national anthem, flag, and coat of arms. Yet we
still have to connect the high ideals these symbols represent with our everyday
lives as Nigerians. A country is not a country until it connects in this way.
We
have almost been through it all. In 1999, what we thought was democracy
returned to Nigeria. It took sixteen long years. At the May 29 inauguration of
the new (but old) Commander in Chief, Olusegun Obasanjo, there was a sense of
hope and a vigorous optimism about the opportunities ahead.
But,
Nigeria never fully adopted democracy. The elections between 2003 and 2011 were
all heavily disputed, destroying trust in our political process. The 2015
elections ‘changed’ political parties, but two years on we still grapple with
the reality that political change is not nation-building.
What
seems to be missing?
The
high ideals of national life were conspicuously absent in all these
elections. In retrospect, we never had proper conversations about who we
are as a country. Nobody articulated how to enforce the broader or
specific ideals of our Constitution and guiding principles. The political
parties sought power and made promises, but they had no broader themes, did not
paint a picture of what Nigeria could be, and did not strive to create a narrative
that connected all our aspirations. Many politicians do not even seem to know
what kind of country their policies seek to create. Most do not seek to lead or
govern but simply to rule. And citizens are only slowly figuring this out.
The
Nigerian who operates outside the prebendal system that is inherent in our rent
economy can see the unfairness in the system but can still do nothing. In the
end, we remain removed from true national building.
Where are we going?
There
might be two answers to where we are going.
If
you ask a woman who has no access to power or the perks of power she might say
that we are going nowhere, and very fast. She might opine that unemployment is
up, inflation is up, crime is up, infrastructure is non-existent, and access to
land and capital is concentrated at the top.
If
you ask a woman with access to power, she might tell you we are out of
recession, unemployment is stable, inflation will come down and there are
opportunities for growing the economy in the next quarter. The different views
point to the larger problem of the lack of a viable social contract between the
governed and the governing.
Since
there is no common ground or connection between these two groups, there are two
countries, two experiences and two types of citizens in the same country. We
are not quite a country because we have not yet connected and do not have any
common ground on which to build a country.
Fortunately,
we have a document that lays out, at least in theory, who we are as a nation.
And within that Constitution lies the theoretical link between citizen and
state, the purpose of our nation and the important steps needed to live up to
that purpose.
Chapter
II of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (1999) is headlined
in powerful language: Fundamental Objectives and Directive Principles of
State Policy. It is both an objective and a
direction. If you have never heard of this section allow me to hit the high
notes for you: it seeks to frame Nigeria as a mostly centre-left, non-aligned,
mixed economic state with welfarist policies like universal healthcare, free
education, progressive taxation, and a minimum living wage.
The
catch is that these ideals, or the lack thereof, cannot be argued in court. You
cannot enforce Chapter II. Section 6 of the very same Constitution removes the
power of the courts to enforce any of the items listed in Chapter II. The
Chapter does say the Government must strive to accomplish the spirit of the law
but no court can compel it to do so. It is basically a gun but with no bullets
and as such, the objectives and the direction of our state policy remain a
mirage. A social contract agreed but not executable.
Where we must go.
In
our political history, despite multiple administrations, we have failed to
realise anything akin to a social contract between the citizens governing and the
citizens governed. Two generals and two teachers later, we have not advanced or
learnt anything around strengthening the link between our two types of
citizens.
Chapter
II reminds us that there is a missing link between agreeing to the ideals of a
great nation and becoming one.
It
is clear that we must understand our national ideals in order to achieve them.
Perhaps our best ideas about who we are, where we are going and where we must
go have been answered in our Constitution. It is not that it is a panacea for
all our ills. It is not a utopia by any means. It is simply a good place to
start.
Culled from StearsNG
