RODNEY’S POTPOURRI: Transition blues

I am not quite sure whether I prefer the quick, British style of post-election transition to the lingering, lame-duck inducing American version that we have incorporated into our constitution, albeit with slight variations.

Under the British system, the results are quite clear by dawn following the closure of polls at 10pm the previous day. 

If the party in government has lost the elections, the Prime Minister would usually appear in front of his or her official residence, 10 Downing Street, deliver a concession speech and then immediately head off to Buckingham Palace to formally bid the monarch farewell. 

The removal vans would have arrived earlier in the morning to cart the family’s belongings out through the back door.  

The leader of the opposition party that has won the elections would usually sweep into Buckingham Palace shortly after his or her predecessor has left, for the monarch to formally invite him or her to form the next government. 

The freshly-minted Prime Minister would then be driven to Downing Street, where he or she would give a short address to the nation, and then go indoors to settle in as the delivery vans get busy moving the family’s belongings in through the back. Simple. Clinical. No grand, fancy inauguration.

Given our ’50 per cent Plus One’ rule together with the prospect of a runoff, as occurred in the 2008 presidential elections, our transition period (currently one month) serves as a buffer for such situations and therefore does make some good sense, as I am sure the framers of our constitution must have reasoned.

Transition tantrums, tensions

Our Presidential Transition Act 2012 (Act 845) provides ample meat to fill up the skeleton of the constitutional provisions by providing guidance on the setting up of the transition team, among several others, to facilitate the smooth transfer of power. 

However, there seems to be a growing perennial fight in the public square anytime power is about to change hands from NPP to NDC or vice versa.

In the case of both former President Mahama and President Akufo-Addo, eyebrows were and have been raised over decisions in the twilight of their presidencies, including various statutory appointments and the signing of contracts. 

On each occasion, the incoming opposition party has loudly protested against these, citing unfairness, and the government of the day has strongly defended the incumbent president’s decisions, arguing that he remains president with full executive powers until the day his presidency ends. 

If collectively, we believe as a country that the powers of an outgoing president need to be curtailed during the transition period, we must have that discussion and agree on what specific powers ought to be so curtailed, and then amend the Presidential Transition Act accordingly. 

The rather noisy, convenient swapping of arguments during transition from one party to another, depending on which side one finds oneself smacks of hypocrisy. 

Further, the growing spectacle of itchy foot soldiers of an opposition party with overflowing adrenalin juices waiting to come into government following an election win and thus invading various state establishments and even public toilets in a bid to ‘take over’ ahead of the new government taking office is becoming rather alarming. 

Whilst the heady excitement following a long drought in opposition is understandable, the violence or threat of violence in such situations definitely is not. 

To be fair, the transition period following both the 2016 and 2024 elections were characterised by such ugly incidents.

Many also insist that our transition periods enable crooked outgoing state officials to loot the state  by rushing deals through and/or cover their tracks ahead of the handover, leading to lots political tensions.

All these, among others, make me yearn rather dreamily for the quite clinical, swift British approach to transitions, however reasonable our current system is within the context of our constitutional architecture. 

Fond memories, salty tears

Today’s presidential inauguration brings fond memories of my overnight trip from Kumasi to Accra exactly eight years ago to witness the inauguration of President Akufo-Addo, resplendent in my white ‘kaftan’, beaming with smiles and waving a miniature national flag whilst exchanging hearty greetings with delighted party faithful. 

There seems to be an almost unspoken rule that whilst presidential inaugurations are a national affair, supporters of the party that has lost the general election simply do not show up at the event and rather watch the proceedings from home on television (if they can bear to do so), whilst weeping salty tears silently into their beer glasses and wincing not-so-slightly every now and then over what could have been.

Well, my political tears dried up long ago, so no salty flavour for my beer when I plant myself before my television, thank you very much. But an NDC friend advises that I have my handkerchief and a bucket on standby, just in case my tear ducts burst their banks. 

I have pointedly ignored his advice. 

‘Vox Populi, Vox Dei’

Of course, I would have wished that a Bawumia would hold the sword of state aloft today to take the oath. But as my Latin tutor Mr. Acheampong taught me at Opoku Ware School four decades ago, ‘Vox Populi, Vox Dei’ – the voice of the people is the voice of God.  

In our neck of woods on this continent, it is quite a big deal for political power to shift peacefully from one political party to another, even if we have successfully done so three times under this republic. 

Above all the bantering and the heated political disagreements, for the sake of our beloved republic, I wish President Mahama and the NDC well during their tenure.

May our democracy, imperfect as it is, continue to endure.

The writer, Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng is Head, Communications & Public Affairs Unit, Ministry of Energy.

E-mail: rodboat@yahoo.com