By Paul Nwabuikwu
Forty-five years ago, when I went to Port Harcourt to commence my secondary school education, the Rivers State capital – and the Niger Delta – were very different. The gas flares were already visible from miles away but the environmental devastation was not as bad as it became in the subsequent decades. The city was a very pleasant place with peaceful, generally happy residents evoking images of Cockcrow at Dawn, Bongos Ikwue’s poignant tribute to an idyllic rural existence:
“You can see the sun going down
And the people as they go by
Without a frown
Here the traffic never jams
Don’t cost much to buy some yams
And the neighbours say hello…”
Today, the “Garden City” description of Port Harcourt sounds like a cruel joke; rough neighbourhoods and concrete flyovers are not ideal homes for flowers. But at that time the moniker meant something. Flowers flowered even in the poorest neighbours. The prominent names were the Okilos, Obi Walis, the CIT Wokomas, the Kobanis, the Kurubos…. – top civil servants, diplomats, Shell engineers, teachers and of course the powerful but not dominant soldiers of the Gowon and Murtala/Obasanjo years. Port Harcourt was a gracious city defined by the Golf Club, Shell Club and similar establishments. How things have changed.
Today, Port Harcourt, the unofficial capital of the Niger Delta, like the rest of the region has undergone dramatic, even grotesque change in the intervening period. Environmental degradation, government neglect and corruption have spurred widespread anger and agitation which have in turn spawned a new kind of politics and political culture, replacing the public sector and professional middle class which held sway with a new leadership that mirrors a new “militant’ culture.
The culture of the city has become rough and coarse, reflecting the style and priorities of political leaders who work so closely with militant agitators that there is often no visible difference between them. Having reaped political power and significant personal fortunes from their battles with government and other varieties of officialdom, they have learnt one main lesson: fight, fight and keep fighting. Give no quarter. And keep screaming. And this instinct is so deeply ingrained in them that they don’t know when to change tactics because they simply cannot. Like limited carpenters who attack every challenge with a hammer, they only know how to deploy one tool. And when they confront a problem that requires a different tool, they are stumped.
Nyesom Wike, the governor of Rivers State, is a prototype of the militant politician, long on boldness and chutzpah, but very short on diplomacy and a sustainable strategy. There have been other in-your-face politicians from the Niger Delta before him. For instance, his former associate and political ally, Rotimi Amaechi, two-term Speaker of the Rivers House of Assembly, two-term Governor of Rivers State and almost two-term Minister of Transportation. Amaechi is also famous for frontal politics and speaking his mind without bothering with filters.
But Amaechi is a smarter, more calculating politician who understands the long game better than Wike. In the final years of the Jonathan administration, he went for broke, sticking all 10 fingers into the former president’s eyes. A major player and funder of the APC blitzkrieg that routed PDP, he spoke his mind and also invented quite a few allegations of “corruption” against the previous administration as part of the ultimately effective strategy of demonizing. But his style has been remarkably different under the current government in which he has served as the minister of the “juicy” transportation ministry. Apart from a few off-mic moments like the leaked audio in which he spoke very unflatteringly about Buhari – “The President is not listening to anybody. He doesn’t care. You can write anything you want. The President doesn’t care. Does he read?” – he has not been disruptive. He knows that his new friends are very different from the man who declared that his ambition is not worth anybody’s blood.
But since Wike assumed duties as the undeclared emperor of the PDP, his style and actions drip with contempt for anyone who does not share his opinion or jump when he coughs. He wakes up in the morning and says whatever occurred to him at night, issues threats to anyone who dares to disagree and proclaims his political invincibility as his sycophants and live band sing his praises.
Wike does not appreciate the fundamental fact that Nigeria is not Rivers State and the tactics of the militant politician cannot take you too far in national politics. His loss at the PDP convention contained a profound lesson about the limits of “militant politicking” which he has obviously not learnt. Typically, he sees the outcome of the primaries in simplistic terms: he was cheated out of his “right” to become PDP’s presidential candidate by the last-minute betrayal of Governor Aminu Tambuwal who stepped down and pledged support for Atiku. But the question which his minions cannot summon enough courage to ask him is: “Oga, if na you be presidential candidate, you go choose yourself as running mate?”.
It’s really fascinating that after belittling Atiku and other candidates – and helping Chris Uba to hound Peter Obi out of PDP in Anambra – Wike considers himself an innocent victim of the evil machinations of others. It takes a spectacular kind of lack of self-awareness to make yourself both the hero and victim of the personal epic you’ve scripted. It might be necessary to revive Sigmund Freud to explain the workings of Mr Wike’s mind.
Since his loss to Atiku at the PDP convention, the headlines have been full of speculations about the Rivers Governor’s immediate and future political plans. Last week, the chatter went up by several decibels as Wike publicly hobnobbed in London with, first, APC big wigs and, later, with Atiku and several PDP governors. The buzz was that both parties were desperate to get the governor – and the Rivers treasury – on their side. There were reports that PDP HQ was in panic mode because losing Wike will give APC’s problematic Muslim-Muslim ticket a strong boost. Wike, it was also reported, was asking for concessions including the stepping down of PDP chairman Iyorchia Ayu as a condition to support Atiku. He might yet have his way on some of these demands.
But the exclusive report by THISDAY, published as this column was being finalized, that APC has refused to commit to any of Wike’s offers and demands suggests that no one who has a choice will choose to get in bed with a loose cannon. And that’s why Wike’s political future, whatever he is able to squeeze out of his ongoing brinksmanship, is not likely to be very bright.
Nwabuikwu is a member of THISDAY Editorial Board