Service before honour

Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu of Lagos State just announced his preference to be addressed simply as “Mr. Governor”. By that decision, he hit right at the heart of Nigeria’s skewed public reward system – honour before service, instead of service before honour. That explains the crisis of low quality public service.

Indeed, all through Nigeria’s recent history, only three people have earned the highest honours in the land, not because they held high offices but because they merited the honour.

Chief Obafemi Awolowo, thanks to the large heart of President Shehu Shagari, got honoured with the Grand Commander of the Order of the Federal Republic (GCFR), the highest in the land.

Awolowo and Shagari were political rivals. Awo challenged Shagari’s election as president in 1979, aside from letting fly, at the Shagari presidency, trenchant but rigorous criticism. Yet, Shagari honoured Awo with the GCFR, in a demonstration of rare executive grace, yet to be equalled since then.

Before the late President Shagari’s move, GCFR was reserved for former presidents and military heads of state, most of who, frankly speaking, didn’t deserve it, because of the low value they added to the polity. Awo, for his sterling contributions to Nigeria’s social democracy and rigorous thinking on Nigeria’s federalism, was a good fit. Yet, he could easily have been left out, because he never became president.

Business mogul, Alhaji Aliko Dangote, got the Grand Commander of the Order of the Niger (GCON), not because he is a former Vice President or its equivalent during the military era, but because his contribution to the Nigerian real sector has been humongous; and is seen to be so. Today, he stands as the biggest Nigerian investor in the economy.

The great Gani Fawehinmi, SAN, was the third, though posthumously. He got a GCON, he probably would have rejected, were he still alive. But the fiery lawyer and zesty human rights crusader, though never a friend of the establishment, thoroughly deserved the honour. He put in quality service for his country, by pushing the law to enforce citizen rights; and birth a liberal and dynamic political system, even during the illiberal military regimes.

Beyond the humdrum of office, it is rather difficult to pinpoint an Awolowo, a Dangote or a Gani Fawehinmi at the peak of governance and general public service. Yet, those that play on that turf feel being decorated is after-service right, no matter how poor their contributions had been.

It even gets worse, when you descend from the peak, and penetrate the thick of government.  Every councillor wants it impressed that (s)he is “Honourable”. Yet, local government services are generally in a shambles. Higher up, senators label themselves “Distinguished”, aside from appropriating the “Senator” prefix for life; and every House of Representatives and state legislature member decrees he is “Honourable”. Even the Speakers, at the two levels, push it further: they call themselves: “The Right Honourable”!

With least contributions across the board, everyone seems to fancy their chances at some national reverence, which peaks with national honour, even after a humongous pay, for their service – or lack of it!

That is why Sanwo-Olu’s take, that as a governor you can’t earn the honorific of “His Excellency” until you have delivered on the job, is rather refreshing. The governor’s release, preceding an executive order on the new policy, decries a political sociology that lionizes offices, but thinks little of the service that must come with them.

“The office of the Governor has been celebrated as the paragon of excellence, a temple of perfection and a throne of purity. This demi-god mystique spreads over the entire machinery of the executive arm of the government, symbolising an authoritarian disposition on the governed.  It has deformed,” the governor insisted, “the orientation of elected and appointed persons who are paid from the taxes of the people, to see themselves as oppressors who can do no wrong and must be served, rather than serve the people.”  Well said.

Then, the clincher: “Whatever might have been the reason for this myth, let us be honest: the office is occupied by a mortal who has been called upon to serve the electorate with humility – and sincerity. The office of Governor is a public trust that calls for sacrifice, modesty and willingness, to add value to the lives of the people.”

Sanwo-Olu’s has been a gripping expository into what is wrong with Nigerian public office culture and how it can be corrected. Many have said that penchant for honour, without sweat, is borne out of our excessive love for titles. That may well be. But it doesn’t explain everything.

The British, like Nigerians, love titles. But the Americans, among whom the Brits were core settlers, don’t. Indeed, Americans appear to humour titles as much as the British adore them. So, why this contrasting attitude, despite a common ancestry in the British Isles?

The answer would appear not so difficult. While Britain basically evolved as a settled community with close communal ethos, America evolved as a new frontier, with the new Americans throwing off the colonial yoke of the British motherland, aside from making mincemeat of the aboriginal Indians.

Still, beyond the love or hate of titles, both Britain and America have generally retained the fundamental ethos of hard work; and the culture of robust public service. That is why both have made great progress, despite the one loving titles and the other loathing them.

But back to Nigeria. That Nigerians love titles doesn’t in itself explain that illicit penchant to hanker after honour, even if it is patently undeserved. Love for titles is part of our cultural evolution as country of native nationalities – and it’s not necessarily bad.

What is bad is that inability, at least so far, to evolve a credo of robust public service, in which honour logically crowns proven, honest and committed service.

If the Sanwo-Olu move helps to correct this mistake, it would not only have humanised the Lagos governorship, it would also have reformed and revamped attitudes to public service.  That may well be Nigeria’s path to salvation.