It was a pleasant day, long before the pandemic. I was inside the
Gloworld at the Ikeja City Mall to fix something with my phone line. Everything
was going well until the sound of gunshots – skrrrahh, pap, pap,
ka-ka-ka-ka-ka! I jumped to my feet very quickly and scanned the
environment to determine the safest escape route. I quickly considered that if
there was to be a stampede everyone would make for the only door to the small room
and run towards the direction the salvos would be coming from. So, I decided that
the small room behind the service agents, where they usually kept their stock
of phones and accessories would be the safest place to hide. Quick thinking.
People were getting increasingly agitated and asking
the lone security guard what the problem was. The sounds went off again, this
time louder and longer, and in the ensuing pandemonium I made my move. It was
from the safety of the storeroom, while praying feverishly, that I heard people
explain what had just happened – and then they all burst into laughter as I
emerged from my fortress. They were laughing at me! One lady gathered herself
and said, “Oga, na balloon, no be bullet”. A nearby store that sold
balloons and other celebratory materials simply had an incident with some of
their balloons popping off. Indeed, it was balloons and not bullets. So, I had
the walk of shame, with stares from staff and customers alike, not back to my
seat, but out of the store and headed home. I was thoroughly embarrassed.
As I drove home, I thought hard about what just
happened. I knew exactly where it came from. On Wednesday, March 13, 2013, I
was returning from a trip with my colleague. Our wives had driven to the
airport separately to pick us up. As we approached the car park, Tina and I
said our goodbyes to Tolu and Bolanle as we went in different directions to
find our vehicles. Tina decided to treat me to the spicy meat delicacy suya,
because she knew I longed to reunite my taste buds with Nigerian food. So, she
described where she parked the car and handed the keys to me so she could go
buy it while I fetched the car. Her kind gesture is what saved her from the
traumatic experience that was to follow.
As I pushed the trolley along within the large car
park, I heard gunshots go off from very close quarters. I was caught up in a
robbery in progress. About ten dare devil robbers had stormed the Murtala
Muhammed International airport, reportedly in trail of a huge sum of illicit
funds that had been transported in a bullion van enroute Dubai. It was a brazen
case of attempted “relooting” as the thieves made to take their share of the loot,
resulting in the death of two policemen and one of the robbers in the gunfight
that followed.
It was a very horrible experience. At a point, I saw
one man in a flowing gown drop flat to the ground and roll under a car to hide.
I tried to follow him, but it was not easy – many are called but few are slim
enough. He kicked and yelled that I should find another hiding place. As I ran,
another volley of gunshots went off which made me scrape my knees on the
concrete resulting in a painful injury. By God’s grace I was able to escape the
theatre of violence and reunite with Tina. We went home in a taxi that night,
too traumatised to return to the carpark to find the car.
In the years before that incident, I had led missions
to five post-conflict countries to engage with young people rebuilding their
lives. Our audience included victims of the most horrendous war crimes as well
as former child soldiers. I had heard war stories and prided myself in being
able to relate with them during counselling. My later experience, which is
nothing compared to theirs, showed me how wrong I was, and how it takes a lot
more effort to truly empathise with people especially when you have not lived their
experiences. I have since come to learn more about empathy and how this is a
crucial factor in conversations about leadership and development in Africa.
The late sage Obafemi Awolowo wrote a lot about the
subject of love, empathy, and mental magnitude. He was born into a peasant
family and his prospects in life were further dimmed when his father died while
he was still very young. Asides the existential struggle for food, clothing,
and shelter, he faced the challenge of continuing his education. This
experience accounts for his dogged commitment to free and universal education,
and his belief that education is the fundamental building block for development
in any society. The trials of an indigent boy resulted in empathy, which in
turn led to enduring political ideologies and structures that posited a
relationship between education, political consciousness, and development. His
achievements in mass education and development as the premier of the defunct
Western Region remains unrivalled in the history of post-colonial African
states.
On love, Awolowo saw love as an important virtue for
anyone aspiring to lead, which is in sharp contrast to the chicanery, knavery,
and brutish credentials required in Nigerian politics these days. Aboluwodi
stated that “Awolowo saw accountability, transparency and the like as the mainstream
of political order which may constitute the thesis while selfishness, greed and
so on constitute a negation of this order. The conflict between man’s natural
instincts like greed and impulse is resolved when these greedy and selfish acts
are overcome and love which manifests in social justice, fairness and equity is
attained. Love then becomes a quality that the state or family must aspire to
have. Just like the state aspires to reach its perfection when it has freedom, morality,
and rationality in Hegelian dialectic, Awolowo’s perfect state is achieved when
the state and its parts attain a perfect state of love. Love becomes the
quintessence of state and human interaction.”
On mental magnitude, Awolowo theorised that those who
aspire to lead should be able to bring their acquisitive tendencies under the
control of reason and cultivate self-discipline. He further postulated that
good leaders should abhor vile emotions and vices including anger, fear,
malice, gluttony, drunkenness, and sexual immorality. He believed that only
those whose interests are subsumed under the interests of the collective can
succeed as leaders. Achieving this state of consciousness is what Awolowo
called the regime of mental magnitude – the ability to subvert human
proclivities for crass materialism and indulgences in favour of self-discipline
and rational behaviour.
With very few exceptions, Africa has since retreated
from producing leaders with the virtues of love, empathy, and mental magnitude
that Awolowo wrote about. Our human development indices have declined steadily
over the years because of the many reprobates in power stifling the good
efforts of the few honourable people who manage to get to positions of
authority. That is not to say we have not had leaders who had no shoes while
they were growing up. We once had the case of a minister who was in tears
during inspection of dilapidated critical infrastructure but ended up becoming
one of the most prolific looters of public funds. It has simply been a case of
misplaced empathy.
Paul Ekman distinguishes between different forms of
empathy. He wrote about “cognitive empathy,” which is the ability to know how
the other person feels and how they think. While it has its good aspects, this
sort of empathy has been associated with the “dark triad” – Narcissists,
Machiavellians, and Sociopaths, who possess this attribute while having no
sympathy for their victims. A torturer needs this ability, if only to better
calibrate his cruelty – and talented political operatives no doubt have this
ability in abundance. (Goleman, 2007).
Majority of the current crop of political leaders
understand the politics of poverty all too well. They are skilled in the art of
exploiting the desperation of poor Nigerians, who are in the majority, to
advance their own selfish interests. Add to that wizardry in identity politics
and you have tales of heists by uncommon people in power who go against the
will of God by stealing funds meant for development, while people from the
regions they claim to represent wallow in poverty. “Compassionate empathy”, on
the other hand, according to Ekman, helps people understand another person’s
predicament and not only feel with them, but are moved to do the right thing
and help them. Some statements by serving public officials give them away that
they are far removed from the pains and suffering of the people.
In the months and years ahead, when we have another chance to elect leaders to different positions of power, Nigerians would do well to pay greater attention to the personal lives, characters, and antecedents of those aspiring to office – because desperation and a lack of moral rectitude in aspiring leaders, according to the great Awo, is a veritable hint of disasters waiting to happen. We have recycled deceptive populists, mercantilist demagogues, and indignant godsons of entitled godfathers, over many years with little to show for it. This is the time to revisit existing models of leadership recruitment and find good people in unlikely places to lead us. Moral exemplars who have been the bulwark against the free fall of society. Empathetic men and women amongst us that we often remark would make good leaders but are not cut out for the politics of money and violence. These are the exact corps of patriots we need to salvage our country.
Akin Rotimi
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