Twelve days ago, at a private residence in Abuja, a faction of what remains of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) gathered to affirm former President Goodluck Jonathan as its candidate for the 2027 presidential election. Even when Jonathan was nowhere near the bizarre proceedings, his name has since been sent to the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) and lavishly published as their presidential candidate. And without publicly accepting or declining the nomination, Jonathan has, in the most literal sense I can conjure, left other people to dance in his shoes.

Regular readers of this column will recognise the choreography, because I have written about it before. Twice, in fact. On 9 February 2011, in a piece titled The Borrowed Shoes, I deployed Tunde Kelani’s film, ‘Agogo Eewo’ (The Gong of Taboo), to illustrate my point about a president and the men who claimed to have made him. It recounts the allegory of a poor but gifted dancer who goes to a competition in borrowed shoes. The lenders, sensing their leverage, begin to distract and torment him in the middle of his performance. At the end, he does the only dignified thing by kicking off the borrowed shoes and dancing barefoot. The crowd is so moved by this act of defiance that they begin, spontaneously, to offer him their own shoes. The moral, as I wrote then, is that a leader must choose between self-serving shoe lenders and the people, while the shoes that come with strings will inevitably be used to pull down the dancer.

I returned to that allegory in 2022, ahead of the last election, in a column, Jonathan and the 2023 Shoe Lenders – THISDAYLIVE. The occasion was almost identical to the present one. Placard-carrying “supporters” had besieged the former president’s office, demanding that he declare for the 2023 race. And there were whispers, never quite denied, that the plan was for him to run on the platform of the All Progressives Congress (APC)—the very party that had spent the better part of a decade demonising him. I wrote then, quoting Franklin Roosevelt, that “in politics, nothing happens by accident; if it does, you can bet it was planned that way.” The placard-bearers, in other words, were not acting on their own initiative. At the end, Jonathan did not contest while the APC ticket, and ultimately the presidency, went to Bola Tinubu. The shoe lenders folded their banners and went home, and the republic moved on.

Today, as it was four years ago, Jonathan has not officially thrown his hat into the ring for 2027. All the talk remains, for now, speculation built around a ceremony he chose not to grace with his presence. But should Jonathan eventually decide to dance to the tune of the persuaders, his situation will be weaker than it was in 2022 when the prize on offer, however improbable, was at least the ticket of the ruling party. What is on offer now is not even the PDP that governed Nigeria for 16 unbroken years. It is a faction of the PDP—one bloc in a party that has split into warring camps.

What, then, are the realistic scenarios should Jonathan decide to accept the ‘nomination’? I see three, and not one of them ends well. The first is that he runs on the faction’s ticket and loses, as a divided party splitting its own vote must lose to an incumbent with the structure of government behind him. That outcome would convert a revered former president into a defeated also-ran, the spoiler whom some online people now uncharitably allege is being encouraged into the contest just to “divide the votes.” The second is that the courts could settle the constitutional question against him and end the adventure.

Section 137(3) of the 1999 Constitution (the Fourth Alteration signed into law on 11 June 2018 by the late President Muhammadu Buhari), provides that “a person who was sworn-in to complete the term for which another person was elected as President, shall not be elected to such office for more than a single term.” Jonathan was sworn in to complete the term of the late President Umaru Yar’Adua, and then won a term of his own in 2011. The argument that he is ineligible to contest again has been dismissed by the Federal High Court and the case is now at the Appeal Court. Nobody knows how that will end. Besides, the PDP faction offering him their tattered umbrella is also standing on shaky legal ground.

The third, and the one his persuaders are quietly praying for, is that Jonathan runs and wins. And it is this third scenario, paradoxically, that exposes the entire enterprise for what it is. We all know why a one-term candidate is attractive to the Jonathan persuaders. The next four years, the faction’s spokesman tells us, must be years of “healing, restoration, patience and nation building.” There is a further insult folded into this packaging, and it, too, is a recycled garment. The faction insists that Jonathan’s running is “not his ambition but a call from the people.” Translation: Jonathan will be nothing but a caretaker. They are therefore not offering him a presidency. They are offering him a lease, and a contested one at that, on a property they intend to repossess. Jonathan will be given a seat that can only be warmed, but never owned.

This then brings me, finally, to the only thing in this sordid affair that truly matters. And that is what the persuaders are most willing to spend: Jonathan’s legacy. We should be honest about what Jonathan’s standing today actually rests upon. It does not rest on the record of his administration, which Nigerians remember with the same mixture of affection and frustration they reserve for most of their leaders. It rests principally on a single moment. In the early afternoon of 31 March 2015, with the votes turning against him, then incumbent President Jonathan picked up a telephone, congratulated his opponent before the final declaration, and said the words that have followed him around the world ever since: that his ambition was not worth the blood of any Nigerian. That concession did for Jonathan what five years in power as president had not. It made him a global statesman. That precisely is why he is being invited to observe elections in other countries and mediate other people’s crises. Jonathan is, today, the patron saint of the graceful exit.

That reputation is what the 2027 shoe lenders are asking Jonathan to wager. And they are asking him to wager it not on a noble cause but on a doomed candidacy, advanced by a fragment of a collapsing party. There is something close to cruelty in this. The man who is celebrated worldwide for knowing when to leave is being tempted to claw his way back through the backdoor, his flag carried in by a proxy because, one suspects, some part of him already knows that these are not his shoes. I hope, for his sake and for ours, that Jonathan resists. Some legacies are best left as they were written, and that one was written well.

Now, let me address the persuaders directly, as I have done before. If the call were truly from Nigerians, and not from a small circle of desperate politicians who see in this former president a convenient tool rather than a leader, it would not be staged in a borrowed living room with the principal absent. Finally, let me also address the former president, a man for whom I have tremendous respect right from our days together at the Villa (he as vice president; me as presidential spokesman) when he fondly addressed me by two pet names: ‘Media Guru’ and ‘Focus Nigeria’ (there’s a story behind that):

Your Excellency, the most presidential thing you can do in 2027 is what you ultimately did in 2023. And it is the same thing the barefoot dancer did in the parable earlier referenced: refuse the borrowed shoes. Decline the adventure, not by silence or the studied ambiguity of “I will consult,” but clearly, so that no one can use your name as a banner while you are looking the other way. Yes, Nigeria could use a healer and unifying figure right now as many people suggest when your name comes up. But a contested faction of a dying party is not the instrument of healing, and a campaign that ends in defeat or in court is not the vehicle of legacy. The dancer’s dignity lies precisely in his bare feet. So, please take this from someone who means well for you: Some shoes are not worth the wearing, however grand the names of those pressing them upon you. Your power, such as it remains, is moral, not electoral. It is the authority of the man who left well. Spend it on the country if you wish but please, do not let it be spent on you.

Abdulsalami Abubakar and the Abacha Loot Question

Former Head of State, General Abdulsalami Abubakar, will be 84 on Saturday. And he has decided to use the occasion for the public presentation of his autobiography, ‘Call of Duty’. Last Friday, I received his invitation along with an advance copy of the book which he autographed for me with kind words. Published by CableBooks, the book is quite insightful, as one would expect. But it is also evident that the General did not want to offend anybody, hence, even those to whom he imputed unsavoury roles and actions—like members of the ‘kitchen cabinet’ around the late General Sani Abacha—are not named.

But the book does contain very rich insights. The author addressed such issues as the military coups in Nigeria, including the ones that toppled both the First and Second Republics, and shared his civil war experience as a battalion commander. He also provides insights on the June 12 election fiasco and the aftermath, how he (Abubakar) was tricked to Aso Rock on the morning of 8 June 1998 on the pretext that he had been summoned by Abacha who, unknown to him, was already dead, the drama of being locked inside the Number One office from outside and how he later emerged as Head of State. Abubakar also narrates his own side regarding the death of Abiola, as well as the transition to civil rule that brought about the current dispensation.

In documenting his experience and observations of Nigerian politics, Abubakar concludes that it is the people who allow themselves to be used as pawns in the hands of politicians who may disagree in public but dine and wine together in private. He related stories from the First, Second and (aborted) Third Republics to back his position that “Nigerian politicians, irrespective of their parties or political camps are a tribe on their own. They know where they meet,” he explained. A most bizarre chapter 15 in the book, “My ‘Mad Friend’ in Enugu”, chronicles how he (Abubakar) struck an enduring friendship with a mentally challenged man on the streets of Enugu who became almost like a guardian angel.

Altogether, Abubakar has given readers an enjoyable story that is also well told. But one aspect of the book that may generate considerable interest is regarding what is now glibly called ‘Abacha loot’, which the London Economist once described as ‘a case of direct stealing’. It is also an issue on which I have written several columns. As I recall in a 2014 piece, on 13 July 1998, just about five weeks after he became Head of State, Abubakar had instituted the Special Investigation Panel (SIP) to establish “cases of swindled public funds and recover same back to the federal government coffers”. Within a matter of days, the panel had secured records from the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) which revealed that between November 1994 and July 1998, Abacha had taken directly from the apex bank a staggering $2,263,520,497 in cash withdrawals, travelers cheques and telegraphic transfers, in the name of “security vote”.

For the first time, Abubakar has provided another angle to this heist because, as he said, the notion of Abacha as a thief was strange to him. He shared stories of how Abacha had demonstrated frugality in the management of funds belonging to the army. “When I was Chief of Defence Staff, Abacha would sometimes call me to his office for us to sit down and do proper costing before releasing money for the military. He hated waste. Sometimes he would bring out his calculator before releasing money for the purchase of equipment for the military. That was the Abacha I knew,” Abubakar wrote.

Explaining what he learnt about ‘Abacha loot’ after leaving office, Abubakar said he was told that his deceased predecessor took those monies out of the country in the event of sanctions on Nigeria by Western countries. “He was said to have been so advised by Colonel Muammar Ghadafi, the Libyan leader who faced heavy sanctions from the West. He reportedly advised Abacha that if Western powers froze Nigeria’s assets, his government would be stranded if he did not have funds abroad,” Abubakar wrote while also adding a caveat: “I honestly cannot confirm or deny these explanations. But I would be lying to say I thought of Abacha as a thief. Unfortunately, he didn’t put some of us into confidence on what he was doing. Perhaps it would have been a different story…”

Given the demographics of Nigeria, it is likely that more than 70 percent of our current population were not witnesses to the events recorded by General Abdulsalami Abubakar. That is why his memoir, and that of other military leaders of his generation, are significant historical assets. Whatever readers may make of their claims, what is not in doubt is that these memoirs provide context into some of the critical epochs and decisions that brought our country to its current trajectory.

Platform Nigeria

With the theme, ‘Governance, Democracy and National Security,’ the Pastor Poju Oyemade—inspired ‘platform Nigeria’ holds tomorrow in Lagos. Speakers include former Senate President, Dr Bukola Saraki, erstwhile Lagos State Governor, Babatunde Raji Fashola, SAN, Defence Minister, General Christopher Musa, lawyer and Human Rights activist, Mrs Ayo Obe, and security consultant and legal practitioner, Dr Charles Omole. I will also be speaking on a disturbing political trend in the country that I have titled, ‘The Silence at the Polls’. The programme will be live on Channels Television and many social media platforms. (This Day News)

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