The Power of Silence

By MARGUERITE MICHAELS

Nigerians have never given up the idea that their tumultuous but potentially powerful nation will someday have the democratic government it deserves. They may have started down that road in earnest last week when the city of Lagos, a boisterous, sprawling metropolis of more than 6 million, stood empty and silent. Businesses were shuttered, railway and bus transport brought to a standstill, the normally congested streets deserted. Thousands of police and riot-control troops out on patrol had the silent city to themselves. Citizens were staying home to protest the ruling military's refusal to hand over power to the man elected President on June 12 in the freest, fairest balloting in three decades. For a people accustomed to rule by force, the three-day strike was a brazen act of defiance.

Over and over, since Nigeria gained independence 33 years ago, the government has gyrated between short-lived civilian control and military regimes. From the day President Ibrahim Babangida, an army major general, seized power in a coup eight years ago, he promised an orderly return to democratic rule. He created two political parties and wrote their platforms: the Social Democratic Party tilted a bit to the left, the National Republican Convention leaned the same degree to the right. He handpicked their presidential candidates. But when Moshood Abiola, the millionaire industrialist candidate of the Social Democrats, won the election and insisted that he be sworn in as President on Aug. 27, Babangida voided the vote, claiming widespread fraud and vote tampering.

Since the June elections, Nigerians have been unwilling to let a few strongmen thwart the wishes of the many. Citizens took to the streets last month in violent demonstrations that left more than 100 dead. That stirred fears -- crudely exploited by the government -- of massive unrest or even a return to the tribal war that killed an estimated 1 million Nigerians two decades ago. But leaders of the Campaign for Democracy, a human-rights group spearheading the antigovernment demonstrations, insist that this is not an ethnic conflict. This fight is between those who want to bring democracy to Africa's most populous nation and the military leaders who have long imposed their will.

The situation is unlike the popular uprisings that forced Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos into exile and brought down the Berlin Wall. Rebellious Nigerians face a government willing to use force to keep itself alive. Anonymous circulars warning of tribal violence among the nation's three largest ethnic groups -- Yoruba, Ibo and Hausa -- appeared in Lagos' crowded slums, setting off a massive exodus. Those with means sent their families out of the country. The poor, the overwhelming majority, sent their children to home villages in the countryside. State security officers and riot police & rounded up human-rights leaders and interrogated them. False reports in a government-controlled newspaper claimed that critics of Babangida were secretly being financed by the U.S. embassy. "They want to use the threat of a new civil war to bring out their tanks again," said a human-rights activist.

Last month's riots were quelled only when Babangida announced, after conferring with remnants of the two political parties, that he would hand over power to a handpicked interim governing council headed -- on paper -- by a civilian. But the idea of anything less than a full transition to an elected government has been received with suspicion and derision.

"Abiola must be allowed to take office because Nigerians said so," said novelist Chinua-Achebe. It is not so much that the industrialist is personally popular: once seen mainly as a fat-cat crony of Babangida's and widely believed to have contributed money to the coup that brought Babangida to power, Abiola became, by winning the election, a symbol of dashed hopes. "The people voted the military out of power," said labor leader Didi Adodo. "They looked for one who could run the country better and saw Abiola as the one."

He seems to have warmed to the role of democratic standard-bearer. Two weeks ago, Abiola slipped quietly out of Lagos and flew first to London and then to the U.S., looking for international support. The Congressional Black Caucus arranged for his visa and set up meetings on Capitol Hill and at the White House. But he left the U.S. last week without getting what he wanted. "We don't back individuals -- we back the process," said a State Department official. When Babangida annulled the election, the U.S. responded by suspending all but humanitarian aid and sharply curtailing military relations. But senior U.S. officials have not ruled out the viability of an interim government, if it is not a stalking horse for continued military rule, and feel it would be presumptuous to insist upon Abiola's installation if Nigerians cannot find a way to do it themselves.

Last week's successful strike signaled a new determination to move the country in the direction its citizens say they want. But the process is only beginning, and fear of a military crackdown remains strong. More protests are planned as the August date nears for the military's promised return to barracks. The only question remaining is how civil the disobedience will be.

With reporting by J.F.O. McAllister/Washington and Jack White/Lagos