Emir Muhammadu Sanusi II: Progressivism in the Wrong Place?

The removal of the Emir of Kano, Muhammadu Sanusi II, yesterday, by the Kano State Government for alleged “disrespect to the office of the governor and other government agencies”, as some newspapers reported it, would come as no surprise to many close observers. Like the harmattan wind, both the Kano Emirate and the Government have […]

The removal of the Emir of Kano, Muhammadu Sanusi II, yesterday, by the Kano State Government for alleged “disrespect to the office of the governor and other government agencies”, as some newspapers reported it, would come as no surprise to many close observers. Like the harmattan wind, both the Kano Emirate and the Government have travelled long distances to get here. The surprise, perhaps, is rather why it didn’t happen sooner, since everyone knows that the relationship between the Governor and the Emir had long collapsed beyond repair.

But what should interest us all, in the opinion of this writer at least, should not be the specifics of the case, a lot of which, true or false, is already in the public domain. Rather, we should be more interested in the big-picture of the case, in the questions that have endured in a litany of conflicts between the seal of modern government and the throne of tradition and culture since the deposition of Emir Aliyu of Zaria in 1921, the very first of its kind. As I understand it, there are three such questions.

First, is it not high time that we agreed, as a country and a people, that emirs and other traditional rulers should have some form of constitutional insulation from the government of the day, federal, state or local? Second, is a ‘reformist’ emir or chief even possible in the current context of traditional institutions in Nigeria? Can an emir, any emir or chief, lead social reforms within their domain? And third, what can an emir do or not do when they are duly deposed or when they abdicate? These questions will retain enduring value long after Emir Sanusi or Governor Ganduje are both gone. So we might as well speculate on a few answers.

Sometime in October 2003, on the occasion of his 40th Anniversary, then Emir of Kano (and Emir Sanusi’s predecessor), Alhaji Ado Bayero, said in a speech, in his trademark succinct Hausa, what in my rough translation, goes as: “Once we had all power. Then we shared power with others. And now we are onlookers, with permission only to offer advice to those who listen”. This, in a few words, is the political history of traditional leadership in northern Nigeria, then and now. But the now is probably more significant. The relationship between government and traditional leadership as it currently stands in northern Nigeria, and indeed elsewhere across the country, is perhaps the world’s most glaring political contradiction. The one has power with little authority, in the Weberian sense of the term; the other has authority but lacks power. What this means in practice is that emirs and traditional rulers are almost entirely at the political mercy, not of government as a permanent institution, but of the particular government of the day. This should be unacceptable to us all. If we value our history and culture, and we should, and if we agree that our emirs and chiefs are custodians of these, and again, we should, then we should be able to find some constitutional means by which to secure their thrones and have them work on behalf of the people they serve, rather than at the mercy of a president, governor or local government chairman. In any case, if we insist that emirs and chiefs should not interfere in politics, then those in politics should also not interfere with traditional institutions. And it is perfectly possible that we can agree some constitutional arrangements, from appointments, tenures, funding etc, that guarantee this. At least, it is a national conversation we must have.

This leads us to the possibility of a reformist traditional leader in Nigeria. Emir Muhammadu Sanusi is a man of many colours, and even of many lives. Before he became Emir of Kano in 2014, he was well-known for being an accomplished banker. But he was perhaps even more well known for his progressive and reformist politics, as a student unionist, a university teacher, and a towering public intellectual who spoke and wrote on matters of religion, politics, the economy and society. It was also an open secret that, as a prince, he had always wanted to be Emir of Kano. As he told David Pilling, Financial Times’s Africa editor in 2018, “I’m sure you know that for most princes the ultimate is to sit on the throne”. By Providence, he has now sat on the throne, a position which he probably thought he could combine with his progressive politics to do public good and reform society. As an Emir, he led prayers and delivered Friday sermons. But he remained highly critical, both of the government across all levels, and of the governed everywhere. He spoke against religious insurgency in the north. He called attention to poverty in the region and to drug abuse among its youth. He criticised polygamy among those who could not afford it and promoted girl-child education and the well-being of the woman. He would not mind having his daughter represent him at a royal function, or even, to succeed him as an emiress, as he told Pilling in the said interview, even if he knew it can’t happen soon. These were the politics for which his throne was dedicated, as he himself was long before he ascended it. For sure, he was also accused of mismanaging emirate finances, which may or may not be true, since in Nigeria, accusations of corruption are often a ‘political performance’, a way of doing politics by other means.

But as an emir, could such politics have succeeded, even without his removal, given the current institutional space of authority without power within which emirs and chiefs operate? I strongly doubt it. In fact, there is a sense in which his latter two careers are a contradiction in terms. Banking and monarchies are among the most conservative institutions left on earth. You are likely to find people imbued with progressive politics and reformist attitudes everywhere, but you will not find many of them in banking boardrooms, certainly in a central bank. An emir’s throne, currently in northern Nigeria at least, is hardly the most ideal space from which to pursue progressive politics, however gifted one might be. Perhaps the emir should have stayed clear of tradition, since a profile of reformist politics, can, only with difficulty fit into traditional leadership. But the real point here is that our traditional institutions, while being custodians of our history and culture, ought also to enable modernist reforms, however gradual. Our traditional leaders should be able to call for the reforms Emir Sanusi called for without running into trouble with government, the people, or anyone else.

So what can emirs do or not do when they abdicate or are deposed? The established convention for emirs who have been deposed is to move, very quietly to a faraway town, and while there, say nothing, hear nothing and do nothing. In a country long known for paucity of leaders, this would represent a monumental waste of leadership talent. Perhaps, the Emir could establish a foundation and draw upon his considerable international goodwill to eradicate the almajiri system in northern Nigeria once and for all. Or perhaps, the Emir could join politics and be for Nigeria what he could have better been all along. Throne or not, progressive politics can live on, and Emir Muhammadu Sanusi with it.

 

Dr Suleiman is Executive Director, Nigeria Governance Project and Assistant Professor in Politics and Communication at American University of Nigeria, Yola. He can be reached, by text only, on 07066451983.