Friday 27 July 2012

The Commander-in-Chief passes in Harness: Reflections on the Mills Presidency



 Ring the alarum-bell!—Blow, wind! Come, wrack! At least we’ll die with harness on our back.
                                                                                   -   Macbeth Act 5, Scene 5, Page 3

The former  Commander-in-Chief at work 
In medieval Ghana history the imagery will be one in which the Ɔhene(loosely translated as king/chief) fully clad in his very potent  batakari kese(smock) festooned surfeitly with magical powers emitting and inducing sɛbɛ(amulets) leading the charge of the Adonten(the main fighting force of the Akan military infrastructure; Aboagye,2010,p.219) in an important frontline maneuver  is mortally wounded. The Ankobeahene(head of the king’s own special guard division), Gyasehene( head of the king’s administrative division) and the Kyidomhene(head of the rearguard divison) confer in the  heat of battle in a fortified lush green forest redoubt under the blazing African sun as the Ɔhene gasps, moans and then transitions. In the defense of his kingdom, the Ɔman, the Ɔhene has died in harness; in active combat. The next most important task will be committing the distinguished remains to Asaase Yaa(Mother Earth) all the while reflecting on his stewardship and preparing the ground for his successor. Odupon atutu(the mighty tree has fallen): the wail will rise from the battlefield and reach the most cloistered recesses of the kingdom on whose behalf the Ɔhene has fallen.

The modern state is pivoted on the tips of bayonets and certainly begat it. That is why the Commander- in- Chief of the Ghana Armed Forces is received every morning at the portals of the seat of government by a police contingent bearing bayoneted guns for a rite that reinforces this reality. In the event of war the president of the Republic of Ghana will be called upon to provide the central strategic directions for ensuring that not an inch of this territory(air, land and water) is ceded. Post 1948 the launching of projectiles as the foremost mark of state policy has receded. But another war-like contention has attended the policy function of the Commander- in-Chief: development.

In the daily motions of confronting this question the Republic of Ghana lost its foremost personality in this contest President John Evans Fiifi Atta Mills on the 24th of July, 2012. The occurrence is history making in the same way that Pres. Mills became part of the presidency in Ghana’s Fourth Republic. Veep Arkaah was jettisoned by Jerry Rawlings(the first time in the Fourth Republic) as he gunned for a second term in 1996 after a very public and ignominious spat: in came Mills the genial, overly self effacing academic who had morphed into a bureaucrat and then a politician. Twelve long years later Mills was to return as president(the first time a veep had achieved this in Ghana’s constitutional history) after a nail biting election which the New Patriotic Party(NPP) had worked hard to lose.

The National Democratic Congress(NDC) 2008 campaign(which Mills led aided by Rawlings) was pitched in moral terms pivoted tactically around the genteel, taciturn, almost lily white angelic character of  then candidate Mills. For an NPP administration which seemed out of sorts(in its second term), languid and inordinately focused on who was to replace Pres. Kufuor this strategy seemed to resonate with the Ghanaian electorate. The NPP had of course not helped its cause with seventeen candidates galloping at full throttle for its presidential candidate race, the building of a presidential mansion which seemed ill-timed and an ill advised display of pomposity, grandiosity(Kufuor’s self decoration was a classic example), good living and wealth. In that event Mills' broad policy orientation as a president came to be shaped by this moralizing, “I care for you”, caring father and his children tendency. Ghana’s economic universe was to become the foremost palette upon which this tendency was to be boldly sketched. For the sake of his “children” President Mills decided to reduce the price of petrol(which was a campaign promise). This decision was however rescinded in the light undoubtedly of the turbulence and uncertainty of the global petroleum industry. This turnaround however would seem to have dented or at least raised questions about the commitment of his administration to a pro-poor, pro-people economic agenda. To his credit other pro-poor, pro-people policies were pursued by his administration especially the youth employment, school feeding (which the NPP had started), free school uniform and school infrastructure( putting up buildings aimed at making schools under trees history) programmes. In the main however and in spite of Ghana’s oil sector emerging as a key part of the economy the Mills economy was marked tellingly by a management focus. The usual targets were macroeconomic indices: inflation, debt financing, interest rates and exchange rate stability among others. One of the key corollaries of all this was that the Mills economy struggled immensely with job creation(the figures are still a matter of deep contestation) and thus has sputtered over cost of living and standard of living questions. Matters have not been helped by a cedi inching precariously towards a free fall and an overall wretched global economy. In a sense then deeper questions regarding the restructuring of Ghana’s economy (away from its primary commodity focus) have been shunted to his successors (NDC or NPP).

In other crucial policy areas such as foreign affairs, urban planning (slums are mushrooming and festering) and architecture, transportation(especially commuter transport across the Republic), sanitation, housing(the STX deal and the heaven high promises attending it and the fiasco it has turned out to be is particularly sobering),  the welfare of children, women, the physically-,mentally- challenged and senior citizens one struggles to find a Mills master stroke. Probably it is all about the limitation of the presidential system for a developing polity expressed in the tenure underlying it: how much can a president achieve in four years or at the upper limit eight years? This reality should provide lessons for future presidents in the very crucial art and science of prioritizing without which drift can set in disguised by the daily routine of policy formation which creates a false sense of being on the ball.  

One enduring feature of the Mills presidency was its very open and forceful ecclesiastical bent. This was less so in the Kufuor presidency and the Rawlings one. The former Commander-in-Chief was reportedly a friend of T.B. Joshua, a popular Nigerian evangelist. President Mills regularly presided over what has become known as National Prayer Sessions which involved key personalities of the presidency and bureaucracy. His public discourses were also profusely peppered by allusions to the Judeo-Christain God and his unrequited benevolence. This bent was even to have policy consequences (albeit one off) where the pouring of libation was banned at national events in a Republic that has historically played up its African heritage. On a very personal and philosophical level one need not fault Pres. Mills. It is not difficult to contemplate however the effect of this very sacerdotal public display on the popular consciousness: this side of heaven prayer and the invocation of God is the answer to every problem. One would have wished he acted decisively on charlatan pastors and priests and championed the need to define the parameters of the setting up and operation of churches.

There also was this schizophrenia that marked the Mills presidency and tended to have a jarring, discomfiting effect. Some of his appointees of ministerial ranking became infamous for a pattern of indecorous remarks passing off as communication for government. Historians of the Ghanaian presidency in the Fourth Republic will be cerebrally hard-pressed matching the cultivated affability and gentle persona of the president and the free rein diatribes of some of his ministers. Probably lost on watchers of the Ghanaian presidency is this: it takes a man of steel and some notable cunning to cavort with Jerry Rawlings and bubble to the top of a party that has a very macho DNA. And on Jerry Rawlings one wonders why Pres. Mills’ penchant for peace did not allow him to patch up with his former boss in what has become a very public parting of ways. Now this parting has been stretched to eternity and may yet reflect the complexities, contradictions, strengths and weakness of a seemingly simple man from Otuam in the Central Region of Ghana who became president of our Republic.                                  



Saturday 14 July 2012

7 DAYS IN THE LIFE OF THE POWERFUL IN GHANA…..KILL-OUR-COUNTRY THEORY


                             Are we all  condemned to be street thugs?
                                                                                                   -Tupac Amaru Shakur

I have not written on my blog in a while. Sometimes it all seems pointless really when the old ugly order seems to simply find a confounding nourishment that keeps it alive especially in Ghana. But the writing itch has afflicted me again inspired by the class comedy act passing of as governance in our Republic in the last few weeks of encircling judgement debt in a headless country. I try to make some sense of it all below.


Sunday: T is getting ready for church. T wears the faith on his sleeve. The faith is like a billboard and church is simply part of the insidious network he thrives on. It is a battle to choose which car to ride in to church as these contraptions “smile” at him in the compound of his palace that sits in a treeless, dusty, stinking neighbourhood. The sticker on the car he settles on finally intones: “ MY YEAR OF BREAKTHROUGH-2012.” The gaunt, sickly houseboy whose cheekbones leap at you from  1000km away has made sure the cars sparkle(like Sarkodie’s champagne bottle in his famous track where he is referred to as an eagle) in its $200,000.00 majesty. And T likes his champagne which has triggered the cocktail of gout, diabetes, high blood pressure and obesity. The admixture of perfumes(Klein, D&G et al) make him cough as he prances into the car as his lily white garment sweeps the floor. T is loving the gaping craters; his car is made for them. In fact he thanks his God for them. He is getting late. He turns on the siren and goes into the incoming lane as of right endangering everyone including himself: smart dude!!!! T loves the prosperity sermon through which he slept three-quarters of the time and dreamt of the deals on the morrow. In fact he was waiting for collection time to afflict nostrils with his perfume and show off his agbada and his wealth. It is a show!!!!      

Monday: T pushes towards his office at top speed. He does not see the children who are waiting for tro-tros at 5:00 am nor the decaying city in which he exercises his power and displays his wealth. His Legon and Harvard certificates hit you when you enter his office. A crowd is waiting for him. He breezes in without even saying hi to these indigent poor who have come to waste his time. The man says he has not been paid for two years. T says they are working on it. The senior citizen says his pension is not regular. T says they are working on it. Idiots he says to himself. “ Secretary!!!!! I am done. Tell the rest to come in two weeks.” I am waiting for the World Bank and European Union guys!” He turns on the TV(100 inches plasma screen cavorting on the wall like a nubile lass) and sure enough the “idiots” are pleading for what is surely their God-given right. “ Nsuo nba. Kwan no nye. Yesre aban se…….(The water flows not. The road is impassable. We beg government…..). His partners in crime flow in and out of his office. They hatch and plot. They know how the system works and work it while we SLEEP. When the foreigners come to see him his smile is so wide and the obsequiousness so palpable it irritates them. At lunch T consumes as if he is ten men rolled into one. He scrapes the platter clean and washes it all down with some choice liquor that will make the ice-water seller faint if she knew the price. He belches. For a moment T thinks it is a fart. Night beckons: it was a good day. Several thousands of Ghana’s dollars(not cedis; the cedi is worse than trash for him) will pour into his account for work done: selling his country down the choppy river. Time to get some flesh: who cares about the wedding ring. Sure enough the trade in flesh is flourishing in Accra(even in the most leafy neighbourhoods) as the society T and his barons have created implodes on itself. In a dimly lit city he rides through town with his lights at full beam: we all idiots so far as he is concerned. At a rendezvous he meets with his political party friends to plot all the lies they will spin as truths. Late at night he returns home and not before the policeman has waved him on at the barrier and stamped his feet so hard in salute he can barely stand thereafter.

Tuesday: Another day. T is all over the airwaves. Party C(not his party) is responsible for the judgement debt he bellows. All of us Ghanaians are responsible for the judgement debts. “We must plug the loopholes in the system and move forward.” T is at pains to apportion collective guilt so no one will be punished. His tone is one of mockery and entitlement. He considers his fellow compatriots morons in the arguments he makes the logic of which is so pedestrian a toddler can demolish it. But T knows he can get away with it: the talkshow host is in his pocket. He had given him a cool $5000.00 yester night. He will not ask the tough questions. It is all a game in town: the team players know themselves. It is night again: more flesh. Today a threesome will do. Some flavor is in order for such a great easy life.

Wednesday:  Mission abroad calls. Kotoka VVIP lounge. T is as always lapping it. Who cares about the toilets out there in other parts of the airport that reek? Who cares about the general apology of an airport for a Republic that was the first to attain independence? T zips through Frankfurt, Milan, London, Zurich, Paris and Amsterdam. First class. “I deserve this…I am special..”; he quips to himself. His countrymen and women deserve the rickety, death dealing tro-tros on roads fit for camels(which he rides on as well). He sees these cities but T is in fact blind. His photochromic lenses housed in Rayban frames cannot help him. He cannot see. Period!!! He espies a bookshop. “Reading my foot” he muses to himself. T gets to the confab late. He snores away half of the time. In fact the red light district is uppermost on his mind. Some Caucasian flesh will do. Amma the wife is boring nowadays. The Kataphoton company know his weakness. They ply him with drink and more drink and food and more food. The agreement signing proper  takes place early in the morning. Deliberately positioned there by his hosts. T cannot wake up and when he does he is still in stupor as he signs for the Republic of Ghana. The contract is about supplying luxury four wheel drives to districts which do not even have roads!!!! The fine details do not matter for T. His Parker pen must be used anyway and he is assured of a few of these cars.

Thursday: Regional tour beckons. Fresh from abroad T heads to the villages. The people are happy to see him. He pretends to be happy too out of necessity. His speech is in English which he delivers to a people he has ensured cannot understand. You wonder who he is speaking to. Himself and his fellow barons and their paymasters abroad of course. He braves the wretched roads with four wheel drives. The people brave the God forsaken roads with their feet and hands. He cuts the sod for yet another road project in the maw of thirty more that have taken a century to get off the ground. It is a game. T knows it. The people do not it seems.

Friday : Thank God it is Friday. Time to blow to some dough. “ Secretary tell them to come next week. Don’t they know its Friday. Next week, next week….aaaaaaaaaaaaaa……these people are pests ooooooo….”  A trip is planned for Dubai with the new catch(her dropping jeans trousers which revealed the cheeks of her butts blew T away in their first encounter). The sheik who wants a stake in the Jubilee fields will pay for this. T needs a pretext. “ Amma the president has asked me to go to Dubai for some negotiations….” Done deal in the name of Ghana. Friday and Saturday is play time for a man who is still essentially a boy entrusted with the fate of a country.