New tax laws and lessons for northerners

There appears to be a consensus that the new tax laws are fair to the North. It may be recalled that northerners initially rejected the original proposal. The lesson from this experience is that, in a democracy, you largely get what you negotiate—not what you deserve. Of course, speaking out is key. Unfortunately, many Northerners […]

There appears to be a consensus that the new tax laws are fair to the North. It may be recalled that northerners initially rejected the original proposal. The lesson from this experience is that, in a democracy, you largely get what you negotiate—not what you deserve.

Of course, speaking out is key. Unfortunately, many Northerners have come into democracy carrying the excess baggage of a tradition that equates speaking out with rashin kunya (shamelessness).

Surprisingly, the North is largely populated by Muslims whose Prophet said people should stop anything unjust with their hands. If they cannot, they should stop it with their mouth. The last option, which is the weakest, is to hate it in their hearts.

But where did they get the idea that speaking out is for “uncultured people”—to the extent of hating or showing contempt for those who speak out? Perhaps they are equating speaking out with foul language or violence, which should not be the case.

In their popular works, C.S. Whitaker and B.J. Dudley analysed the excess baggage of tradition Northerners carried into democracy. Their compelling arguments can be found in their respective books: The Politics of Tradition: Continuity and Change in Northern Nigeria and Parties and Politics in Northern Nigeria.

For example, Whitaker argued that many Northern political elites in the First Republic, who came from traditional ruling houses, considered politics as a continuation of neman sarauta (the struggle for traditional title and power). Therefore, those who lost out in contests for traditional titles moved into politics as an alternative path to power.

Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, for instance, lost the Sultanate to Abubakar III. But when he entered politics and became the Premier of the Northern Region, he was vested with the power to appoint a Sultan. In fact, it is strongly believed that he declined the position of Prime Minister—despite being entitled to it as the leader of the ruling party—and chose to remain in the North as Premier, in case the Sultanate became vacant. That way, he would have been in a better position to do the needful.

Generally, our application of democracy in Africa—ranging from voting to governance—carries a lot of traditional baggage. People interpret democratic concepts and practices, especially on issues of freedom, not from the ideal theoretical perspectives, but from traditional orientation and socialisation.

However, our concern here is with speaking out—something that is somewhat alien to many Northerners but fundamental to democracy. Central to the issue is kunya (shame), which forms the foundation of the Fulani cultural code known as Pulaku.

In his seminal work on Hausa culture titled Mutumin Kirki: The Concept of the Good Man in Hausa, Professor Anthony H. M. Kirk-Greene addressed kunya in detail. It is worth quoting him extensively:

“First, the rendering of kunya by its standard dictionary explanation of ‘shame’ is, at least in our social context, incomplete. While there are, of course, occasions when ‘shame’ will suffice, the concept in Hausa carries a far more specific meaning. For those at home in French, the noun la pudeur admirably conveys the range of nuances identified by the Hausa in kunya”.

“While ‘shame’ in its popular sense is certainly one element of kunya, there are at the same time implications of that which could, and should, cause shame, so that kunya develops overtones of the expected personal reaction to and avoidance of a shame-making action or word. Hence the proposed dimension of ‘bashfulness’, of a due sense of feeling ashamed because of a breach of propriety, either by oneself or by another person”.

“Such a reading is reinforced by the maxim that tells us “the face is the index of shame”, literally “shame is to be found in the eyes.” Thus while ya ji kunya will translate as “he was ashamed” and da kunya suka tashi as “they left with their tails between their legs”, sentences like the often-heard ‘kada ka ba mu kunya, ‘do not shock us’, requires a concept less limited than that of simply shame and can be grasped only by a reading into them of some such message as “do no offend our sense of the proprieties”.

“The stigmatic ba shi da kunya, a frequent and forceful reproof among the Hausa for one who has brashly trespassed against their social code, is better translated not literally as “he has no shame!” but as “he is a shameless creature”. And to feel shame for a shame-less man is, according to the Hausa, a waste of time”.

Kirk-Greene also draws an important distinction between shame as understood in Hausa culture and European values. This is significant because liberal democracy originated in Europe and was their dominant political culture for centuries before being introduced to Africa by colonial powers. He notes:

“In traditional society the well-behaved person would not be expected to look at his superior in the eye as he addressed him, the negation of western concept of the dubious character of one who ‘couldn’t look me straight in the eye’”

There are two key solutions. First, people who genuinely speak for justice and fairness should be respected and even celebrated. Second, communities must encourage speaking out for justice—without promoting violence or foul language. Interestingly, the Constitution has made adequate provision for freedom of expression because of its importance to democracy.

Northerners must either speak out—or be left out. The country is not going to adapt itself to their traditions and values on freedom of expression.

Finally, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu deserves commendation for accepting contrary views from the North.

 

Dikko sent this from Abuja