By Steve Azaiki
For Nigerians, these are not the easiest of times. Happy faces are rare, because the mood is indignant. Adults—male and female—have stripped naked inside banking halls, demanding their cash. Fights break out routinely on queues before ATMs that dispense only miserly amounts. Small businesses have quietly folded up, at least in the meantime, because of low patronage occasioned by the cash crunch.
Fuel queues disappear for only a few days, and then the filling stations run dry for weeks amid official explanations that don’t quite make sense to anyone any more. Nor do citizens feel safe and secure in cities, on the farm, or on the highways. Add the epileptic public power supply and the excruciatingly high cost of living, and it is easy to read the nation’s mood.
But there was hope on the horizon
with the 2023 general elections. Eligible citizens had been mobilized to get
their permanent voter’s card, because their votes would count, as the
Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) had promised.
Frustration
mingled with disappointment, because what ordinarily should have been a
stroll-in to collect your PVC often turned into a search for a needle in a
haystack with allegations of many PVCs missing or lost, raising fears of
calculated disenfranchisement of certain groups in the country. Still, messages
went viral that whatever anger anyone felt should be taken to the polling booth
and expressed as a vote.
A Third Force had also arisen, to give the All Progressives
Congress (APC) and the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) a good run. Nigerian
youth, in their millions, were ready to make a statement with their PVCs,
rather than vote with their feet across the Sahara and through the
Mediterranean Sea. The presidential and National Assembly elections were held
on February 25, 2023. While there have been much less complaints about the
parliamentary polls, on the contrary, both local and international observers,
ordinary folks, and the dispassionate, have given a thumbs-down to the
presidential election. It has been a big let-down, a disappointment that has no
doubt aggravated our national trauma.
There
are some triggers of a nation’s collective trauma. A catastrophic natural or
man-made disaster is one; so is bad news that shakes the foundation of a nation
and leaves the citizens reeling. Epic disappointment such as badly conducted
elections, which had earlier been hyped as the ultimate game-changer in
election management, can rattle citizens, as indeed Nigerians have been. This
isn’t just the whining of sore losers, but widespread disenchantment with a
mismanaged presidential election, a position echoed by citizens and foreigners
alike.
When a nation is traumatized, it slips into a state of agitation,
of despair, faithlessness, agony, and irritation. These reactions are
compounded by pre-existing conditions which the citizens had been coping with
in the hope that somehow they would prevail over relentless adversity. I am
aware of the legendary Nigerian spirit of resilience of which it is often said,
in praise of the uniqueness of Nigerians, that there are few, if any, nations
on earth whose citizens are battered by trauma after trauma, without suffering
a national meltdown. Nigerians have a thick skin; our endurance in the face of
adversity is rare on earth. Indeed, Nigerians exemplify the dictum that when
the going gets tough, the tough gets going.
Yet, the point is inescapable that when a people suffer from
repeated or prolonged trauma, it becomes difficult at some point in the future
to rally the same traumatized citizens to a collective, national cause.
In that circumstance, government may proceed with its programmes
and projects, but it doesn’t have the citizens fully backing the agenda.
Citizens who have been traumatized feel alienated and abandoned. They become
cynical, which itself is a national mood that fails to acknowledge even the
best efforts of government.
One of the tasks of a government is to offer hope to its citizens.
Hope is a motivator upon which many more laudable ideas can be erected. But to
raise hopes is to create expectations and simultaneous duties. The government
expects the citizens to act in a certain way, and the citizens equally expect
the government to act in a certain, complementary way.
When
citizens are frequently let down by their government—institutions and
persons—the cut is deep, the pain enduring, and the trauma leaves a scar.
Traumatized citizens have limitations in creativity and productivity. They
might trudge along, under the weight of their trauma, and post the appearance
of resilience; but they labour under the constraints of their collective
trauma.
The cost is often expressed as a loss of faith in systems and the
recourse to self-help and shortcuts which in the end undermine the whole
system, since shortcuts often imply non-compliance with rules and the
concomitant lawlessness that pervades the land.
A time of national trauma calls for empathetic leadership whose
words and reassurances can be a soothing balm. A time of national agony isn’t
one for partisan triumphalism. Rather, it is a time when true leadership
reaches out with wide open arms to embrace all and declare that we are in pain
together, we weep together, and together we shall pull ourselves up and
overcome.
It is also a time for family, friends, associates, and communities
to offer one another psycho-socio support, so we can collectively pull out of
the national trauma. Yes, we have been let down by our government’s
institutions; we cannot afford to let each other down. As Sharon Salzberg
reminds us, “Resilience is based on compassion for ourselves as well as
compassion for others.”
Beyond the healing gestures highlighted above, getting out of a national trauma also requires accountability. Whether man-made or natural catastrophe, pertinent questions must be raised and reasonable/cogent answers must be demanded. How prepared was the country for a disaster? What was the response as the disaster struck or unfolded?
Lessons to prepare for the future,
and sanctions for officials who were negligent or tardy, are the overriding
considerations for such post-mortem evaluation. Such a process also gives
citizens the feeling that they had not been taken for granted. It equally
reassures them of preparations and fortifications against future occurrences.
In the aftermath of the elections fiasco of February 25, 2023, it is shocking that INEC has treated citizens with utmost disdain. As the polls unravelled, INEC was mute in its public communication, and when it chose to speak more than 48 hours later, with citizens already infuriated, the election management body hardly made sense with its incoherent explanations for its woeful logistics glitches and failure to upload, real-time, polling unit results to its IREV portal, as a check against result manipulation.
INEC even
now has not demonstrated the capacity for critical self-examination for the
trauma it has inflicted on the citizens and the nation. How does a country fund
a commission with N305 billion for election purposes and end up with a dismal
outing? It is an unpleasant outcome for which INEC must be held accountable.
*Professor
Azaiki, OON, is a member representing Yenagoa/Kolokuma/Okpokuma Federal
Constituency of Bayelsa State in the House of Representatives.
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