Category: Tatalo Alamu

  • A shopping trolley for a new year

    A shopping trolley for a new year

    Let us cut this country some slack at the beginning of what is likely to be another momentous year. Some congratulations are in order for this enchanting country and its tough, hardened habitants for bracing through the past year with all its internal challenges and emergent international contradictions. As the Yoruba wise-saying would have it, the head does not always wish to stand in structural alignment with the nape and the rest of the torso. Only the master surgeon of human physiognomy knows how this is stitched together. A more profane version of this proverb has it that the testicular pouch of a ram may swing wildly from side to side, but it never falls. The lizard that jumps from the top of the Iroko tree to the bare ground says that if no one will congratulate it, it must congratulate itself.

      Nigerians are a prayerful lot. Only a people specially favoured by the Gods would choose to live so dangerously and permanently at the edge of the precipice and still survive to tell the story. But as Bernard Shaw, the Anglo-Irish wit, cynic and merciless purveyor of western rationalism would have it, we must beware of people whose Gods are in the sky. If we ask the old codger that he should leave us alone to our joyous proclivities, and that he has no right to legislate for other people, he would probably shoot back: I hate people being happy when they should be unhappy.

    But even for a people who love pomp and celebration, the instant jubilation and mutual hand-pumping which ought to have accompanied Peter Obi’s decamping from the Labour Party was rather muted and underwhelming. No one should be surprised, coming at a point when Peter Obi’s movement has lost much of its capacity to surprise and the momentum it has garnered. While it slithered down the ladder of national esteem, the other side gathered speed and substantial grit. While it encouraged its trolls and sidekicks to excoriate and slander those who expressed views contrary to their siege mentality and claustrophobic sense of entitlement, the other side began chipping away at its ramparts until the empire of froth and hate caved in from its own internal contradictions.

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    Quality people deserted the Gadarene mob. A prime example is Peter Mbah, the energetic and hardworking governor of Enugu State, who has disavowed the possibility of joining Obi in his quixotic quest. Since politics is still a game of number and ethnic identity remains a stellar plank of national politics, it is hard to see how Peter Obi in the few months remaining can reassemble the old faithful even if he goes ahead to win the ADC presidential ticket. Some notable Nigerians who have worked for him at the highest level have sad tales to tell. It will not be fair to spill the beans at this point. Obi does not seem to have the allure and steely composure of a pan-Nigerian leader. A gifted but divisive and polarizing figure, politically, culturally and spiritually, it is so sad and alarming that the Nigerian ruling hegemons now view an Obi presidential ticket as the death knell of post-military politics  in the country.

      Rather than lose it all, they seem to have bought into a significant stake in the ruling party. One year may be a long spell in politics and in his desperation Obi may try to raise the ethnic and hate decibel; and the abiding economic misgivings hoping to catch out the ungainly and chaotic amalgam that is the APC as it tries to smother its internal contradictions and head off the possibility of a catastrophic implosion. In their brilliant conclusion to the book, The Gods that Failed, the authors noted that the final battle will not be between progressives and conservatives but between progressives and former progressives. That may well be the battle that is shaping up. The situation is so “overdetermined”, to use an advanced philosophical parlance, with so many contradictions jostling and contending for supremacy, that it is impossible for a political titan however talented to have a complete mastery of the situation.

  • Mental revolution as panacea

    Mental revolution as panacea

    It is a long way to Hosanna after twenty six years of civilian rule with the nation still hobbled by the foundational crisis of ethnic discord, spiritual polarization, genocidal claims, institutional anomie so pronounced that every facet of human relationship based on trust and mutual understanding appears to have broken down. It did not begin yesterday. As colonized and enslaved people, the institutions handed down by our colonial masters to superintend our transition to political and economic modernity have not proved efficacious. Africa has been stranded in a political and economic limbo.  Perceptive African leaders, such as Kwame Nkrumah,  Julius Nyerere, Kenneth Kaunda, Obafemi Awolowo, Amilcar Cabral and Samora Michel  who saw through the ruse were rendered hors de combat.

      Yet as we may be discovering very late in the day, there can be no viable democracy or irreversible economic growth without durable institutions. It is impossible to sustain economic growth within the context of institutional chaos and disorder. Economies do not grow if they are subject to conflicting sets of laws and precepts, one set meant for the public and the other for the Caudillo and his minions. The protracted face-off between Jerome Powell, the plucky chairman of the American Federal Reserve and President Donald Trump shows just how durable institutions work.  Following rigid institutional guidelines, Mr Powell has resisted Trump’s repeated attempts to fire him or make him bend the rule according to his whims and caprices. It is a triumph of the institutional order against the caprices of human agency.

    So, just what are institutions? Institutions are products of repeated actions, routines, habits, rules of engagements  burnt into the human consciousness  or what the French call repete geste from where they solidify into a set of subliminal precepts which serve as infallible guides to future actions. They then proceed to regulate the affairs of humanity with impersonal rigour and stern orderliness which brooks no human deviance or authoritarian deviousness.

    African political elites have shown that they lack the mental magnitude, the steely discipline and the nationalistic self-sacrifice to produce the institutional framework for the postcolonial order in Africa. When President George Washington, hero of the American war of liberation and founding president, declined the call on him to continue  as American president on the ground that an America that had seen off the feudal order in Europe cannot afford to have a presidential monarch, he was laying the ground for institutional validity and order  which has remained in force till date.

      You cannot plant cassava and expect to harvest yam. In almost all western countries that have transited successfully from the ashes of feudal Europe to political and economic modernity, the political revolution is always preceded by a mental revolution. The English long revolution was aided by the copious outpouring of John Locke and his theory of the social contract, Hobbes by his notion of an ever looming Leviathan; the French by Rousseau, Voltaire and Descartes; the Germans by Emmanuel Kant, Hegel, Feuerbach, Nietzsche and the Americans by the huge tomes of what has come to be known as the Federalist papers which laid the foundation of the modern American presidency. With the possible honorable exception of Ibn Khaldun, the great fifteenth century Egyptian philosopher, historian and social theorist, Africa contributed nothing to this global flux and ferment. It may well be that the intellectual labours of past African heroes have been permanently sealed in the catacombs of cremated memorabilia.

      What you don’t know does not hurt you. But it can haunt you. The inability of Africans to come up with an intellectual organogram has left the continent floundering in a septic lagoon of waste and political refuse. This is why a mental revolution is a precondition for Africa’s cultural, political, spiritual and economic emancipation. Jurassic Age African potentates who routinely flout the prescribed term limits for their inglorious tenure are unaware of the monumental impact of their folly on the institutional order of their stricken nations.  Even where they succeed, they have already triggered off a constitutional impasse which will make for a vicious, violent finale.

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    To appreciate the institutional vacuum in which Africa’s postcolonial epoch operates, we must take one final historical excursion. After the cessation of serial colonial conquest and harassments during which its people suffered untold indignities and humiliation, the Chinese reverted to their native Confucianism which is an all-embracing philosophy of life and just governance. It has proved superior to western liberal theology in its impersonal rigour and merciless rationalism.  There is zero tolerance for corruption and official malfeasance. Thieves are routinely executed. There is no room for political shenanigans. Even Mao’s widow, a decorated heroine of the Chinese Revolution in her own right, found out too late in the day. She was packed to prison never to be heard of again. Men are hanged not because horses are stolen but so that horses cannot be stolen. Today, imperial and imperious China scoffs at the western system with the contempt and condescension it thinks its former tormentors deserve.

    Let us end with the mightiest elephant in the commodious room of Africa’s postcolonial void. How is Africa in general and Nigeria in particular going to handle the nation-state paradigm imposed on the world by the Peace of Westphalia as it goes into terminal decline and reverse gear? For about a decade now,  we have been warning about the fraying at the edges of the nation-state paradigm. We had no foreknowledge of how it will happen or who the instigator will be. America and Donald Trump have supplied the missing grist to the rumination. Nigeria has already fallen to the global sledgehammer which makes nonsense of the founding tenet of the peace of Westphalia: the inviolability of every nation and the non-negotiability of its sovereignty.

       Mr Trump has made a short shrift of this charter. Nations that have refused to correct internal disorder will be subject to international  order in accordance with the Gospel According to Donald Trump. It is no longer a question of like or dislike or a moral or ethical issue. Mr Trump will have his way unless a superior charter suddenly supervenes. As Iran dissolves into apocalyptic chaos, the American strongman has vowed that he is loaded and locked, primed to unleash. This was exactly as it happened centuries ago when superior French artillery put paid to the notion of Italian city-states. Before our very eyes, America is redrawing the world map. Venezuela has been ringed in, and it is only a question of time before the collapse of the government of Nicolas Maduro. As we send this off, rumours swirl about that Caracas has fallen.

    Other global powers are following. Russia is going to end up gobbling a huge chunk of Ukrainian territory in a redress of the geopolitical catastrophe Putin said had befallen his nation. China has announced a commencement of exercises close to Taiwanese waters.   African thinkers and philosophers must now add the nation-state declension to their shopping trolley. Otherwise, it may be the Berlin Conference of 1884/ 1885 once again. Happy new year to all our readers.

  • Feedback

    Feedback

    We have received an unusual volume of traffic in connection with last week’s piece. In Defence of Guerrilla Journalism. Samples:

    Good morning sir. I just read your piece entitled , In Defence of Guerrilla Journalism, a sizzling offering and never-put-it-down-until-the-last-full –stop article in The Nation on Sunday. A great outing as usual: deep, scholarly, reflective and sharp excursion into the Nigeria’s past when paradox practically governed the polity. Well done sir. E e pe fun wa sir. —-Wole Olugboji.

    Just finished reading your usually seminal article, In Defence of Guerrilla Journalism. I goggled “Guerrilla Journalism” and below is what I found. Most heartwarming to confirm what you wrote that it emerged in Nigeria. Thanks very, very much. Context-Specific.

    Famously emerged in Nigeria as an underground response to severe government repression, becoming a vital tool for resistance.  It’s a form of journalism that fights for a story, using unconventional, often defiant methods to report the truth when traditional channels fail or are compromised, though it carries the burden of balancing impact with integrity. INTERNET WED, 31 December, 2025. Venerable Feyisola Famutimi.

    When I saw the picture of Stanley Macebuh headlining your article, I smiled happily to myself thinking that you have not come to bury Caesar but to praise and panegyrise him. Beyond his stellar role in the founding of  The Guardian newspaper, which loves to posture as Nigeria’s flagship newspaper……Whatever you might say of the writer, you must concede that he’s one of the finest users of the English language and his understanding of African Literature is non pareil. It is fitting, then, that in the epic crossfire between you and the retrograde regime, the deep called to the deep, otherwise the warfare would have been asymmetrical. As Soyinka wonders in “Idanre”: do we summon the aid of a boulder to kill an ant? Granted a comprehensive background was necessary for countering a Ray Ekpu revisionism, but the extreme back-pedalling into the prehistory of journalism in colonial Victorian Lagos, nay, Nigeria seems a tad an overkill, if not an overwrought study in selective reportage. The present absence of Zik’s West African Pilot as a hub of anti-colonial  rallying cry and an agora of autochthonous Afrocentrism gives cause for concern, particularly coming from the bristling stylus of one normally reputed to be a voice of moral suasion and historical gravitas. Only enforced amnesia could mollify the miffed, in this instance. Again, considering the whirligig of fate, we are reminded of Sophocles’ quip about the open-endedness of personal identity until death puts paid to one’s life’s peregrination. On this Bayo Onanuga is exemplary: a guerrilla journalist of yesteryear and ponce of power today…….Not many of your readers would share  your optimism about the present climate of democratic expansiveness of leadership. If anything people in Nigeria are still being policed and monitored by overzealous  agents and sundry agent-provocateurs. The times call for the focused and ceaseless grunt work of underground penmanship. Finally, Ray Ekpu: I guess it’s only the autumnal patriarch that might disclose what riles him; reason(s) for his unreasonable put-down of guerrilla journalists of the past and present……Perhaps he needs another occasion to right this wrong just so as to re-center himself in popular imaginary. Welcome back again—Former student now a professor.

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    Your homily today is not only fire for fife, it lays bare the raison d’etre for the concept and practice of guerrilla journalism in Nigeria. Let me correct one impression. My Oga, Stanly Macebuh was a later day convert to orthodox liberal political thought. He could have been influenced by the daily imbibing of fine cognac and cigar in the office of the then managing director…… Stanley changed when he went to the Guardian and became a bourgeoisie when he went to the private papers of Baba Odogwu and later Sentinel of Yar’adua. As you rightly wrote what became of the great writers of The News?—- IBJ, Olonade Street, Lagos.

  • In defence of Guerrilla Journalism

    In defence of Guerrilla Journalism

    The Bile of Ray Ekpu

    Ray Ekpu, Nigeria’s master journalist, accomplished craftsman and one of the exemplary columnists that the nation has produced, has drawn the ire of many of his younger colleagues with his caustic dismissal of the notable tradition of anti-state writing known as guerrilla journalism. In an otherwise finely wrought tribute and homage to his fallen colleague, comrade in arms and bosom friend, Dan Agbese, Ekpu threw caution to the winds  when he reached the subject matter, launching into a tempestuous tirade against  guerrilla journalism . As for its practitioners, he dismissed them all as frauds and psychologically impaired entities who are not worthy of the sacred mantle of journalism.

    Many who knew the master columnist in his prime are horrified by this wild confetti of lies, illogicalities, inaccuracies and outright falsities. It may well be that Ray Ekpu has been badly tripped by a series of recent personal bereavements which have affected his normally sunny and cheery disposition; his capacity for stoic equanimity in the face of pressing tribulations. Or it may well be that Ray is   smarting from the psychological trauma inflicted on him in some very public encounters by some juvenile disruptors of the journalistic status quo in the not too remote past.

       Dismissing a social phenomenon for its juvenile antics and its occasional resort to delinquent fabrications does not, and cannot, equate to denying its existence. Ray Ekpu does not even offer an argument. He offers a rant. Like guerrilla warfare, its more famous genetic cousin, guerrilla journalism is a response to particular developments in the society which demand urgent countervailing action. It is not born of moral precepts or ethical exhortations. It is a logical outflow and direct consequence of certain developments in the society and the contradictions spawned.

       You do not need to like the troika of Lenin, Trotsky and Stalin to appreciate the extravagant saga of human heroism that the Russian Revolution is. Without ever stepping into any military school Leon Trotsky became a general of the Red Army repeatedly routing the rump of the Russian Imperial Army and its western imperialist cohorts in a stunning demonstration of superhuman bravery and audacity. How about the epic march of Mao’s ragtag largely peasant army which allowed them to overwhelm the Kuomintang forces, sending the leadership scampering across the Taiwanese Straits? This is not to discount the storied confrontation of the apartheid regime by the African National Congress which was founded in 1912 but did not come to power until 1994. In all these nations, we witness the dramatic collision of human agency and will with one side boldly staking its claim to hegemonic domination while another set of actors push forward to oppose it. This confrontation of altars is the motor and driving impetus of human history.

    In every department of human endeavor be it religion, royalty, politics, economics, law, academics, music, culture, industry and of course the important substratum of communication, we witness this unceasing struggle for hegemonic domination among opposing forces which often results in the overthrow and dethronement of extant reality or the tense accommodation of contrasting and countervailing visions of society until the material basis of one tendency is subverted from within by emergent realities. This is what is currently unfolding in the north of the nation as the Boko Haram insurrection, religious insurgency and various bandit groups stake a bold claim while the ruins of the old feudal order insist on supervising its own funeral with the help of foreign mercenaries.

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    The anticolonial struggle in Nigeria and the brutal pacification of the tribes of the lower and upper Niger by Lord Lugard and his honchos gave birth to an anticolonial press centred around the emergent Yoruba coastal aristocracy in Lagos.  They fought the colonial masters with their pen setting the stage for an intellectual demystification of the entire colonial project in Nigeria. They gave as much as they got from Lord Lugard and his brother. So outraged was Lugard by their presumed arrogance matched only by their supercilious airs and merciless condescension that he dismissed them as “uppity niggers”.

     MJC Echeruo, the notable Nigerian scholar, captured the sizzling and scintillating drama very memorably in his book, Victorian Lagos. Their relentless criticism and sharp rebuff of the colonial agenda in Nigeria forced Lugard and his imperialist cohorts from one unforced error to another until the military overreach of the Adubi war which suborned the burgeoning Egba city-state but which also led to the terminal recall of Lugard after suffering another nervous breakdown. It was the last time anybody ever heard of him.

      This anti- colonial animus of a section of the Nigerian press set the tone and stage for the emergence of a radical segment of the press after independence in 1960. But with the conservative Daily Times and a slew of regional newspapers ruling the roost, the influence waned dramatically. The political inheritors of the new nation also realized that they have a lot at stake and that there is a lot to gain in preserving the system. Radicalism became a smear word and a progressive party like the Action Group had a tough time explaining the beneficence of some its key programmes to the wider masses. Corruption and mismanagement didn’t need to be explained. They assume a trans-national efficacy. The radical press went into hibernation.

    The Rapture of Gani Fawehinmi  

    But as it so ever happens in nature and history, the moment of distress and destruction is also the moment regeneration kicks in. On the first day of November, 1983, that is about forty two years ago at the terrace of the ground floor of the middle block of the Humanities Complex of the then University of Ife, I met a group of  students clustered around the tall, gangling figure of Femi Ojudu himself a final year student of mine. They were poring over an article in the edition of the Guardian newspaper of that day. Femi looked up and saw me, probably alerted about my approach. “We are discussing your article which came out this morning”, the future guerrilla journalist and future senator of the federal republic informed yours sincerely in a polite and admiring manner.

    Talking about politics and ideology, students of the much storied university remain among the most politicized and radicalized in the country. It is wired into their DNA. As a student, yours sincerely remember being at the vanguard of a student uprising in which the Vice-Chancellor, H A Oluwasanmi himself,  was abducted and taken hostage. In his very last interview, the man in whose honour the university was named after and who remains the nation’s ultimate symbol of political integrity, administrative wizardry and economic genius had informed his interviewer that if he were to come back in thirty years and Nigeria were still to be a bastion of injustice, inequity and massive inequality, he would be found at the head of the stone-throwing mob.

    But back to the article in question. 1983 was the last year of grace for the old Nigerian political class. The scandalously rigged elections of that year were the icing on the cake of infamy. Despite the glitz and glamour, the intellectual sophistication and stylistic razzmatazz, the newly established Guardian newspaper proved to be part of the establishment and its cerebral foremen nothing but organic intellectuals of a decadent postcolonial state. Avant- Garde technique was in the service of Derriere- Garde retrogressive and reactionary politics. Titled, The Guardian and the state of the nation, the article accused The Guardian of cold complicity and collusion with the mess taking hold of the country.

    Submitted at the end of September of that year, The Guardian Nomenklatura sat on it for about five weeks wondering what to do with the parcel bomb until it decided to publish a well-reasoned and weighty rejoinder written by its helmsman, Stanley Macebuh, vigorously defending the values and virtues of liberal ideology and politics. It was titled, The Liberal Society and its Enemies. It provoked a rash of rejoinders from angry nationals particularly from the university communities. Yours sincerely kept his cool until an excellent opportunity presented itself which was the passing of Raymond Aron, the great French conservative intellectual. In the tribute, simply titled For Raymond Aron, yours sincerely heaped praises on the French titan as a true defender of liberty and equality. What was left strategically unsaid was more devastating of the liberal poseurs at the Guardian in a society of deep inequality and illiberal politics. Sixteen days after the article was published on December 14th, 1983, the military swept the Second Republic into the trashcan of history.

     Now fast forward to ten years after the encounter with Femi Ojudu and his fellow students. On a cold evening in early November 1993, yours sincerely, chaperoned by Seye Kehinde, slipped into the Ikeja GRA neighborhood of Gani Fawehinmi to commiserate with him on his recent ordeal in the hands of the government. It was another period of uncertainty for the nation, this time emanating from military misrule. The military, having exhausted their military and political possibility, had testily withdrawn to the barracks. But with the goggled general still on the prowl, everybody knew that this was a ruse to allow things to cool down. But civil society, now better organized and better educated than it was ten years before, had mounted ferocious and bloody challenges to military dictatorship.

    The newspaper industry suffered a severe setback as a result of summary proscriptions, seizures and illegal court summons. Many suffered ruination. A few that could not bear the military affront chose to go underground. Most notable were Tempo, a fiery, irrepressible tabloid which gave the military authorities sleepless nights, and The News magazine which heroically refused to be proscribed by the junta. They were now edited by politically conscious radicalized students of the eighties: Messrs Bayo Onanuga from the University of Lagos, Babafemi Ojudu, Dapo Olorunyomi, Idowu Obasa, Kunle Ajibade, Seye Kehinde and their foot-soldiers such as Ebenezer Obadare  all from the old University of Ife and later on Obafemi Awolowo University. This was the origin of the underground press Nigeria and what became known as Guerrilla Journalism.

       This is the tradition of heroic resistance to tyranny that our good friend, Ray Ekpu, pooh-poohed and assailed with merciless assiduity. It is worth recalling that on that night, Ganiyu Oyesola Fawehinmi, patriot extraordinary, legal colossus and Ondo nobleman, received us with extravagant cordiality and conviviality. Turning to yours sincerely he gushed with child-like excitement: Ah, you see, all those things you are writing, we were reading them in Guje. There was even a time an inmate snatched my copy of Tempo only for him to drop it in the pit latrine. We cleaned it up to continue our reading”.

      But like a scene out of the Theatre of Chaos, we had hardly settled down to merriment when one of the political apparitions haunting the nation at that point in time suddenly materialized out of the shadows resplendent in overflowing lace agbada and lugging a hefty sack brimming with files of the membership of the infamous ABN. “This is Alhaji Abimbola Davies and he has brought a comprehensive list of the membership of his organization. The list will shock Nigerians. When I put all of them in the dock, they will collapse with terminal exhaustion”, Gani vowed. Reeling out otherwise sacred names, the files revealed the extent of the elite conspiracy against Abiola’s mandate.

    Luckily for the conspirators, it did not come to that. Abacha’s creeping coup swept away the hideous contrivance known as the Interim National Government about a fortnight after. Thereafter, the goggled despot bared his fangs against the press and went after the underground papers in particular. Kunle Ajibade was summarily impounded as he made his way out of a safe house. He spent the better part of two years cooling his heels in horrific incarceration. Femi Ojudu was also nabbed and was sent to Abacha’s Gulag where he survived by drinking his own urine. The duo of Bayo Onanuga and Dapo Olorunyomi outpaced and outwitted the security services until it became a bridge too far. They fled abroad. Bagaudo Kaltho was not so lucky. He was grilled to death by Abacha’s goons.

      The severity and enormity of Abacha’s repressive rule particularly his anti-press animus are better imagined. In March 1996, yours sincerely wrote an op-ed piece for Africa Today on the state of the nation . The edition was summarily confiscated on getting to Nigeria by security agents. In a chance encounter at Abuja Airport with Kayode Soyinka, the publisher of the London-based magazine, a minister of Yoruba origins serving in Abacha’s government gleefully told Soyinka that although he was a gentleman, he should blame himself for turning over the page of his magazine to rebels, rabid subversives and past masters of agitprop. Such was the dread with which the guerrilla journalists were held that at a meeting before the falcon fled the falconer, General Oladipo Diya asked Bayo Onanuga, his fellow Ijebuman, whether it was true that his papers were published inside the American Embassy. The truth was more mundane and pedestrian.

    When Gani Fawehinmi was cynically accused of always playing to the gallery in his crusade for justice in Nigeria, he retorted that his interlocutors should also submit themselves to arrest and brutal detention over a hundred times by succeeding military despots so that they can confirm how easy it was to play to the gallery. Let it also be with guerrilla the journalists. They were antithetical forces responding to a particular historical thesis of military brutality and misrule. They faced guns without being fazed and challenged the notion that brute force should supersede rational consensus in the affairs of humanity. With their brazen bravery, they wrote their names into the political folklore of their people.

    Post-Guerrila and the American Unibomber

    It is possible that a strict and straight laced professional like Ekpu might have been riled and irritated by the swiftness and ease of transition of some guerrilla journalists from underdogs to top dogs. This is the normal case when a society faces some transitional turbulence. Dismissing the Babangida transition as a charade, the late Professor Oyeleye Oyediran noted that the class project of cooptation opened up tremendously with many new recruits clambering on the bandwagon. But this is what has happened with every transition in Nigeria from colonial to postcolonial .Nobody remembers that SL Akintola, Antony Enahoro, H.O Davies, Ernest Ikoli and many others were fierce anti-colonial journalists who found their way  to the power podium.

     Brave identification with a power project makes them sterling recruits. What is important and provident is to hold the feet of the new entrants to power to fire.  As history has shown us, the Nigerian political public is so mercurial and inquisitorial that it does not allow heroic antecedents to get in the way of current infractions. Check our history. Those who are calling for a return of guerrilla journalism are completely misdirected. That development has served its cause. No two historical conjunctures can be alike. Since the departure of the military, the Nigerian society has opened up. God must forbid the return of a draconian military dictator who will have to be fought on new terms and not on the old paradigm of cockroach journalism. We live in totally uncharted times particularly in the epoch of the grim American global unibomber. What now faces the nation is far more dangerous with the American intervention. Unless the Nigerian political elites get far more serious and stitch something together and on time too, we may be facing a post-Yugoslavian apocalyptic meltdown. God bless the nation.

  • A hydra-headed crisis requires a hybrid solution

    A hydra-headed crisis requires a hybrid solution

    “It feels as if I am in a film”– Hero of Russian Revolution on being arrested and charged with treason at the onset of the infamous Moscow Trials

    A week, it is said, is a long time in politics. For a nation in perpetual commotion, two months can feel like its eternity compressed into a self-detonating match box. But nothing lasts forever, not even relentless pains and inconvenience. In many societies, people have learnt to cope with stress by simply moving on despite the relentless rockets of adversity.

    Hence, the restless ambulations, the perpetual shuffling and shunting; the hustle and bustle of quiet desperation and the rush to go to nowhere in particular that one often encounters among the harried and harassed habitants of these places. It is a strategy of containment. Indecisions are often final and resolute irresolution helps to delay confrontation with angry demons that prey on the soul with malicious insistence. Ignorance is bliss and reflection is the enemy of contentment. What you don’t see or think about does not kill you and even if it does, it doesn’t really matter since you have already taken the antidote against remembering.

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      This is why in many societies, the seer and seeker after the bitter truth is designated as a troublemaker, an implacable irritant to be ignored or consigned away before the poison spreads. Unfortunately, no human society has ever progressed without confronting its demons. Human communities no matter how mismanaged and maltreated by their own have a way of communicating their sufferings and anxieties to some of their own. It is like a beating a person and asking them not to cry or complain. Tragically enough, only a few can recognize when a society reaches the limits of the elasticity of pains and trauma, or when the stress level becomes structurally unbearable and politically unmanageable.

      Writing is no longer pleasure. For this writer, it has never been. It is a painful burden; a harrowing existential struggle with the uncomfortable actuality of real existence where every word, clause and sentence has to be judiciously weighed and appropriated. There are times when words are more powerful and potentially more devastating than heat-seeking missiles. Unlike the pen-wielding mercenary who writes only for his pocket and for patronage and preferment, the true writer is often filled with caution and circumspection about the possibility of writing as a time-bomb except when the actual social condition has deteriorated into an active violent conflict.

    This is why sometimes the most active pacifists are often people who have seen actual wars or participated in widespread carnage. The gory smell of human blood haunts forever. This human propensity for unproductive warfare and senseless slaughter is what should be prevented at all costs. A famous Nigerian general and civil war protagonist once asked this writer how many of the notable self-determination activists can actually read the map of their immediate vicinity beyond their senseless haranguing.  But you don’t need to know how to read a map to dominate Sambisa Forest forever, or do you?

  • Still dancing on a volcano

    Still dancing on a volcano

    While signing off to go on leave in early October, this column dropped an audit of stress and a census of political apparitions haunting the nation despite the apparent tranquility. It is important to quote this piece at some length in the light of subsequent developments. Titled Still In Search of A National Consensus, it reads:

    The actuality has turned out to be more dire than the auguries. The sixty fifth anniversary of Nigeria has now come and gone. As it has been predicted, the national mood was sombre and subdued. As the day approached, the discerning could feel a thick pall of despondency in the air and an atmosphere of generalized desperation. It was as if the dispensing machines had run out of vending hope and optimism after a run on them. This is the staple fare of pain-killing morphine on which an embattled and embittered populace had depended on in sixty five years of trial and tribulation. But addiction to pain-killers, like the pain-killers themselves, often have their expiry date and time.

    One can always sense when something is about to go wrong in the polity. It is more of political training than intuitive or prophetic wizardry. A week after publication all hell broke loose  with the rumoured uncovering of a plot by some disaffected military officers to terminate the longest run of democratic rule in the history of the nation. The spate of official denial and confirmation of the coup bid by a significant section of the traditional and emergent social media ultimately led to a believability problem for the government. Until it was outgunned by unmanageable reality, it was obvious that the government was trying to minimize the political damage of the development before the international community and the severe consequences for the economy.

    After that, it is one crisis per day, with controversial ambassadorial preferment, the attempt to let off convicted criminals and the massive damage to the reputation of government, Dangote’s startling revelation and documentation of the rot in the oil sector, the rancorous disputation about genocide, America’s threat to give the country the shock and awe treatment, the aborted APC gubernatorial primary in Oshun State and the whimsical but mercifully botched attempt to promote the president’s ADC above his peers in obvious disdain for service regulations.

        It is a reflection of the enormity of the crisis that up till the moment of writing this, which is almost three months after the looming mutiny was averted, no attempt has been made whatsoever to bring the plotters before a board or to arraign them before a military court. It would appear as if the contradiction between the need to respect international scrutiny and the necessity of preventing a further deterioration of internal security through further disclosures has put the authorities in a tight corner. The government has been reeling from one problem of credibility to the other. It is as if the state is being put through the purgatory on a daily basis. Rumours of sharp policy divisions particularly between proponents of a drastic militarization of the campaign against insurgents and genocidal land-grabbers and advocates of a stick and carrot approach bordering on appeasement, waft through the airwaves on a daily basis.

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      At a point, the crisis and rumours of confrontation between ideologues of militarism and defenders of appeasement seem to have cost the last Chief of Defence Staff his job. But before the ink of dismissal had dried, the plucky general had been recalled to superintend the Ministry of Defence after the holder of the office succumbed to the presidential guillotine. If anybody was thinking that this was a policy rethink in which gung-ho militarism has triumphed over supine pacifism, the retention of an old conciliator and fingered facilitator of terrorism like Malam Matawalle as the subordinate minister in the Ministry of Defence and the survival of and expanding brief of General Musa’s old tormentors in the National Security Office reveal a presidency still playing the card of hegemonic ascendancy  in a way that leaves no faction in doubt as to who the master of the game and supreme law-giver is.

        Supporters and defenders of the president see in all this his astounding mastery of realpolitik and brilliant deployment of Henry Kissinger’s doctrine of balanced dissatisfaction which leaves all the contending factions going home with something while also feeling shortchanged and dissatisfied. As proof, they point at the great strides recorded in the economic sector, particularly the cooling of inflationary pressures, and recent successes recorded by gallant troops in confrontation with bandits and ISWAP insurgents. Speaking softly while carrying a heavy stick has its great merits and the country may be turning the corner in the long war of attrition against religious insurrectionists which began in earnest in 2009 with the summary execution of the leader of the Boko Haram sect.

      But many others see in all this the ultimate manifestation of policy flimflam and the triumph of a cynical transactional politics which bodes ill for the country because of its gutless amorality and total disregard for the organic ethos and principles of authentic nation-building. As proof, they point at the sharp erosion of social capital, the rising tide of insecurity country-wide, the dwindling legitimacy, the increasing resort to authoritarian tactics and the decline in popularity and mass appeal of the Tinubu administration.

       All this tells part of the story. But it doesn’t tell the whole story in its cussed complexity and contradictory amalgamation of the good, the bad and the ugly. Otherwise, how does one explain the strange ascendance of the ruling party and the emphatic dominance of the Nigerian political space and environment in a way and manner that has not been witnessed in the political history of the nation? It reads like political fiction or the fictionalization of politics.

    Something new always comes out of Nigeria. At the last count, only a few states remain outside the domain of the APC and they offer nothing but token twitches of resistance with the monstrous and unrepentant PDP dramatically unspooling even as ADC appears to have lost its verve, vigour and virility before the commencement of actual hostilities. That is despite the sharp deterioration in the living standards of many Nigerians, the acceleration of social, regional and religious divisions, the nation-wide advent of banditry and murderous insurgency that threaten the very foundation of the nation and the spectacular up-scaling of state larceny and theft of national patrimony.

     It is a strange and surreal development that a political party at the heart of this postcolonial heist can also be so widely favoured by the post-military political elite in a way and manner that it can now alter at will or whim the subsisting constitution on which the Federal Republic stands. Given the scale and scope of the fiscal misappropriation that went on under General Buhari’s lethargic and lackadaisical watch, it is now clear that the fundamental raison d’etre behind the linkage of South Western progressive forces and the conservative elements of the core north, which is the modernization of politics and the gradual abolition of the feudal economy of plunder and primitive rapacity, has fizzled out. In fact the mismanagement seems to have intensified with the perpetrators looking for the federal umbrella to protect their loot as intrepid attack traders from the South East sector of the emporium join the hymnal procession.

      The political process appears to be completely disembodied from the electoral procedure. National assembly seems to live in a world of its own, a somnolent political reverie that has created its own alternative reality. We have to look for another word for this strange disarticulation.  The sociological explanation for this can only be that rather than hanging separately the dominant categories of the Nigerian political class have decided to hang together. The possibility of multiple stress and strain leading to a catastrophic implosion cannot be ruled out of the equation since this is not a coalition based on authentic national consensus but a coagulation of vested interests and paddy-paddy politics with only the faintest possibility of rerouting the nation in the direction of accelerated political and economic development. Nigeria may then join Cameroons, Cote D’ivoire, Uganda, Zimbabwe, Tanzania and Rwanda in a continental trend showcasing sterilized gerontocracy and one-party-statism in which regime stability is more important than national cohesion.

      The elimination of the old and storied Nigerian middle class as a political force in active contention through deliberate pauperization and strategic disempowerment is fraught with consequences. Throughout modern history, the articulate and enlightened middle classes have always acted as a modulating and moderating influence on national politics often serving as a buffer zone between the heaving turbulent masses and the complacent and often acquiescent upper classes. Once the buffer is removed, it is a straightforward fight between the state and the street with no room left for parliamentary procedures. Twice in Nigeria’s history, during the Wetie crisis of the old western region and the epic struggle to de-annul the June 12, 1993 election, the middle-class intelligentsia found common cause with the lower masses at great cost to the Nigerian state whether civilian or military.

    The high octane volatility of the current postmilitary conjuncture, with its unabating crisis of political orientation, its highly polarized elite groups and the countervailing economic and spiritual cultures show just how difficult if not impossible for a one-party state structure and authoritarian tyranny to thrive or subsist for long in a nation that is an unwieldy amalgam of old empires, expired kingdoms and lapsed suzerainties.  The long process of acculturation and socialization in these old African formations has produced a variety of autonomous and highly individuated personality-types feeding on and off institutionalized memory to mount resistance and rebellion against the most vicious manifestation of personalized autocracy.

      After almost three years on the saddle and given his reputation as games master and wily strategist, it should be obvious to the president that the problems confronting the nation, particularly the intractable national question and associative traumas, require more visionary integrative and holistic solutions than mere political gaming. An organic crisis of the state requires an organic solution based on deep introspection and uncommon wisdom. The plethora of problems in the past two months and the unforced errors suggest the need for wiser counsel and quality consultation rather than self-isolation and hubristic one-upmanship.

      As he sets about extending his dominion over the Nigerian political landscape in his own idiosyncratic manner, one error the president must avoid is courting the ire or inviting the collective wrath of the already subordinated intellectual class particular the ones from his backyard. They fight like eunuchs who have nothing to lose, and rightly so. Having been forcibly divested of their stake in the wellbeing of the state, experience has shown that they remain past masters of protracted intellectual sieges which can be very unnerving indeed. A word should be enough for the wise. Happy Christmas to our readers.

  • Still in search of an authentic national consensus

    Still in search of an authentic national consensus

    The actuality has turned out to be more dire than the auguries. The sixty fifth anniversary of Nigeria has now come and gone. As it has been predicted, the national mood was sombre and subdued. As the day approached, the discerning could feel a thick pall of despondency in the air and an atmosphere of generalized desperation. It was as if the dispensing machines had run out of vending hope and optimism after a run on them. This is the staple fare of pain-killing morphine on which an embattled and embittered populace had depended on in sixty five years of trial and tribulation. But addiction to pain-killers, like the pain-killers themselves, often have their expiry date and time.

    Given the general state of perturbation and widespread anxiety in the land, one was not unduly surprised when the announcement came cancelling the Independence Day parade, thus stripping the occasion of its pomp and pageantry. Whenever you have this kind of unusual announcement, the airwaves are rife with rumours and unsettling speculations that something nasty was in the offing. In the event, rather than glad-handing and iron-pumping in Abuja, the president chose to remain in his Lagos residence from where he rallied the nation in an Independence speech of rousing bravery and exceptional tough-mindedness. But if the truth must be told, it was of little avail, for it was at this particular point that the PENGASSAN versus Dangote Refinery faceoff snowballed into a full-blown downing of tools by the oil-sector workers. As long queues resurfaced at the petrol station and as commuters and motorists alike began hunting for the rare stuff like primitive hunter-gatherers, the downbeat mood became even more sullied and unappeasable.

       Cashing in on the unfortunate situation, some of the leaders who have led the nation up this ruinous path began calling for drastic reform or revolution. The veteran roadrunner among them, without any sense of momentous irony, insisted that the time had come to smash the moribund system. Why he thinks he himself and his vast retinue will escape the fury of the revolutionary mob in the event of an upheaval remains a source of profound mystery. Even more worrisome is the possibility that the nation is being set up for a catastrophic descent into anarchy as a prelude or dress rehearsal for the voting year of 2027 and all its magical possibilities.

       But why the year 2025 in its ember phase and the occasion of its sixty fifth anniversary should cast such an ominous pall of magical possibilities on the nation deserve more scrutiny. It may well be that just as humans suffer anxiety neurosis so do nations. In the modern bureaucratic calendar that we have adopted, the age of sixty five is the ultimate and terminal retirement age, the sharp cut-off point of all elongated shenanigans, extensions, multiple additions and covert adjustments. The retiree must go into compulsory retirement to embrace the dark shadows of old age, senescence or senility as the case may be, if they are not recalled by their maker. This is the age in which the patients worry themselves to death about missed deadlines, missed opportunities, vanished timelines and datelines.

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       There is a time for everything. You cannot be fretting about interview schedules or frantic about fresh job opportunities when you are already at the departure lounge waiting for the final call. The dominance of oral culture in Africa allows us to take a bitter jig at our colonially imposed modern calendar with its mechanical and mechanistic framework which does not allow or permit creative laxity or imaginative evasions. Due to lack of public records, it is only in Africa that the same person could hold on to multiple birthdates on the ground that he was born several moons ago on a market day with birds singing and goats bleating furiously, or where a centenarian can often pass as a sprightly septuagenarian. But that too must end at some point, like the Egungun Festival which must terminate at some point no matter the associated merriments and festivities. Time is the ultimate leveler which must bring together all the contending classes including children of loafers and the scions of loaf-masters.

        History is the master of allegory or allegorized reality. History, in its actual lived experience and confounding perplexities, often simplifies reality for us and resolves its own conundrums as it unfolds and expands thrusting its heady contradictions at us as we struggle to make sense of its awesome imponderables. Only last week in this column, we narrated how this columnist was invited in 1985 by the duo of Dele Giwa and Ray Ekpu to contribute to a publication to commemorate the twenty fifth anniversary of the nation. As it was explained last Sunday, the columnist latched on to the image of a master paradox to explain away the strange combination of magnificent strengths and gargantuan weaknesses which seem to have defined the existence of the nation since amalgamation. For many people the idea of a roiling paradox has since entered the national imagination as a general password for unlocking the Nigerian predicament.

        Ten years after this landmark publication, Dele Giwa has been bombed out of existence about a year after on October 19th 1986. But in a strange twist of grueling irony, it was the turn of Kayode Soyinka, Dele Giwa’s golden boy and favourite newshound, to invite this columnist to ruminate on the circumstances of Nigeria on its thirty fifth anniversary commemoration. In the intervening decade, Soyinka, who only miraculously escaped being brutally dispatched like his boss, had transited from being an intrepid reporter to becoming the publisher of the respectable and influential magazine, Africa Today. That October, the nation’s reputation was in tatters having plumbed the depth of disrepute to become a pariah in the comity of nations. General Sani Abacha had bared his steely fangs and the entire nation lay cowering under the hammer of his brutal despotism. The mood of the nation darkened and there was a foul distemper about reminiscent of the goggled tyrant himself. Nobody ever believed that politically speaking, things could turn that foul and nasty.

       This time around, this writer fastened on the image of a giant toddler at thirty five trundling about the bare floor unable to get up and go. A toddler at thirty five is a genetic monstrosity; a victim of irreversible retardation and arrested development. It recalls the figure of, Aboliga, the man-child ,Ayi Kwei Armah’s haunting creation in The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born.  The one-day wonder grew to manhood and full maturity the same day he was born only to perish that same day. Nothing grows or endures for long in the sultry tropics, certainly not people, nations and institutions,  and the equatorial torpor has claimed its own once again.

    That was thirty years ago after a presidential election that promised to unite and unify the nation produced a hapless civilian interloper and the most monstrous despot ever seen in the history of the nation. The caustic severity of the framing referent of an earth-hugging adolescent toddler was an accurate reflection of the national trauma as Nigeria cascaded over the cliff to the bottomless pit of self-eradication once again. If any substantial damage has been done to the national fabric, the nation has had the intervening three decades to heal and to repair the damage. First was the heroic struggle against military absolutism which has since entered the universal folklore of the struggle of a people for self-emancipation. The upheaval against military eruption which sent the soldiers back to the barracks can be regarded as the golden moment of Nigeria’s post-independence history.

       Unfortunately, and by universal consensus, the post-military civilian restoration has, in the main, been underwhelming in its performance, particularly in the areas of the economy, national cohesion and the scourge of corruption and mismanagement. To be sure, there have been a few bright spots at both the national and subnational levels such as the brilliant demilitarization programme of the Obasanjo regime  and the sterling performance at the state levels particularly in Lagos and in emerging stars such as Ekiti, Enugu, Abia and perhaps entrepreneurially driven Akwa Ibo. But all these are too few and far between to make a dent on the fortunes of the nation.

       So what is the verdict on Nigeria at sixty five as the nation marked a gloomy anniversary this past week? The answers came in torrents and they could not be gloomier than the mood of the nation itself. This time around and in a startling development which hints at a global revolution in the knowledge industry and a change in demographic reflecting the growing predominance of youth in the power equation, it was Nigerians themselves who supplied the answers. This time around, Nigerians did not need “specialists” to explain away the antics of “madmen”; neither do they need their celebrated intellectuals and writers to explain the plight of the nation. They dismissed the nation as akin to a sixty five year old retiree without any further hope of redemption or restitution; a nation with a great future firmly behind it.

        Fortunately, the timeline of a nation’s existence is completely different from the lifespan of a human organism. Unlike human life, the nation is an infinite continuum with an oceanic plenitude of time. Nation’s do not succumb to sudden death or peremptory cardiac seizure. Even where breakup is a definite possibility, the warning signals are almost elastic in their sheer permissiveness. This is why Nigeria still has a lot to play for. It is not over until it is over. But a lot still needs to be done to halt the drift to Golgotha. This is a great country. But like all violently heterogeneous entities it is taking quite some time to come together and the human toll, the collateral damages, have been quite prohibitive. The coming decade will be quite critical in our quest for that elusive and authentic national consensus.

  • Baba Lekki takes Independence Day yabis to new heights

    Baba Lekki takes Independence Day yabis to new heights

    To the modish and moodily confrontational Gbedegbeyo Television Station, an equal opportunity bastion of ethnic irredentism on the outskirts of the Ajisegiri Canal, as the aging but irrepressible contrarian, Lambert Alekuso, aka Baba Lekki, fielded questions on the state of the nation on the occasion of the sixty fifth independence anniversary. Like most die-hard Yoruba progressives of the old school, a pattern of wary engagement with the ruling party has emerged since the coming to power of the greatest political disruptor of the age: strategic silence when everything is going well and the government appears to be on top of its brief and intense commotion coupled with rearguard revanchist rhetoric about the need to revisit the amalgamation of the country when the nation is on edge. Baba Lekki seems to have mastered this double-edged brief beyond the call of normal duty.

    This morning, the mournful drizzle that commenced around midnight had resumed duty after a brief respite as vast pools of murky water gathered on the sidewalks with angry commuters cursing careless motorists as they drove through the rivulets splashing and splattering everything in sight with foul effluents. As a result of the faceoff between PENGASSAN and Dangote Refinery, the few stations still dispensing fuel were besieged by irate citizens screaming to get on the rowdy queues and off-duty miscreants heaving heavy-duty jerry cans. Public distemper was palpable and the atmosphere was pregnant with foul foreboding and imminent combustion.

      Inside the hall, Baba Lekki sat on a lone chair rocking precariously from side to side and eyeing everybody in the hall with sullen contempt. He was approached by one of the female hostesses to find out if he needed some water to cool down and he snarled at the lady with such severity that the poor soul back-heeled quickly to the control room. He was obviously still smarting from the hostile reception he got at the security gate earlier. The rickety jalopy bringing him was flagged to a full stop by security people including a most impertinent woman. He was asked to alight and submit himself to a security search. After a thorough frisking, he was asked to remove a massive amulet dangling ominously from his breast pocket. The old man declined on the ground that it was an item of dressing.

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    “If you are not a fool, will you ask Basorun Ogunmola to remove his isura or insurance?”the old man screamed at them. When the security people insisted, the he offered to go in naked whereupon he started removing his trousers. The lady fled just as their supervisor who had been monitoring from a control room jumped out.

      “Let baba go, just let him go, we don’t want any trouble”, he screamed at his subordinates as the old man sauntered away.

     The lead interviewer thought he should begin by humouring the old codger who was as recalcitrant and truculent as ever.

    “Baba, despite everything, we must give thanks. At least the nation has survived”, he opened with syrupy smiles.

     “I don’t understand that kind of survival. It is the survival of an ayorunbo”, the old man snorted with his malignant humour resurfacing. The audience was stunned into total silence.

    “Baba, what is an ayorunbo?” the second interviewer inquired.

        “He who has escaped from heaven”, the old man replied, deadpan.

         “Kai, kai dis Yariba baba na shege !” one man dressed in babanriga hollered from the back of the hall.

        “So baba, what is the state of the Nigerian state?” the lead interviewer demanded.

     “ The Nigerian state is in quite a state, which means the state is pregnant. But let me tell you this, we will not allow all the nonsense you are planning. No matter what happens the man there must spend his eight years, sam, sam. If anything happens, you can say goodbye to Nigeria”, the old man submitted.

     “Haba!”, the man in babanriga shouted.

    “You can haba till eternity. When you people were running the ruining the country and mismanaging everything, we didn’t disturb you, or did we?” the old man queried.

    “So, it is now turn by turn mismanagement, abi?” a well -dressed young man sitting in the front row demanded, his diction suggesting class and affluence.

     “Call it anything. Na you sabi dat one”, Baba Lekki retorted.

     “Dem Yoruba people don bring dem wuruwuru and magomago into dis matter again.” One chap with an eastern accent screamed.

    “Thunder fire your mother. If you say another word, I will send akalamagbo to seal your mouth. Where was your mother when I was carrying poun-poun in Agodi Prisons because of Azikiwe in the fifties?” the old man exploded. Pandemonium almost set in at this point. But things calmed down quickly.

    “Baba what is your view of the rumoured Jonathan entry to the presidential race?” the lead man asked as he cast furtive glances around.

      “Call no man lucky until good luck has followed him till the end. Goodluck is Sigidi who wants to test his luck by demanding for a bath. Nothing must stop a small child from climbing the hill of Langbodo, ” the old man scoffed with apocalyptic relish. It was at this point that some well-armed militants rushed in through the backdoor and sent everybody scampering for safety.

    •This column is proceeding on annual leave.

  • The cloud lifts…..but only very slowly

    The cloud lifts…..but only very slowly

    • Further reflections on the Nigerian paradox

    As Nigeria entered the week of its sixty fifth birthday anniversary, the mood of the nation is sombre and deeply unoptimistic. There seems to be no time for frills or fripperies. The people are not impressed by rousing figures of economic redemption and statistics that suggest a return to fiscal sanity as long as they do not translate to immediate cessation of hunger and amelioration of crushing poverty. If you tell them it could be worse and that under the watch of Robert Mugabe, the old wizard of Harare, Zimbabwe transited from buoyancy to national foreclosure, they retort that Nigeria is not Zimbabwe and that anybody aspiring to rule the country must have the basic skills and competency.  Like the human organism, nations also grow old and weary from exacting punishment and unrelenting cruelty. But unlike human organisms that die and disappear forever into the cosmic void, nations can actually be revived and even resurrected. 

      It is this abiding hope and optimism in the magical possibilities of Nigeria as the greatest conglomeration of Black people and the charmed life the nation has lived so far that must inform contemporary politics of goodwill irrespective of faith, creed or ideological suasion. Without this hope, optimism and suspension of disbelief perhaps, no union of contraries like ours can be sustained or kept alive for long. After over a century of slavery, discrimination against the indigenous Black people and other manifestations of economic injustice, Sudan finally unraveled, the contradictions dramatically accentuated by military rule. Following on its heels is South Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo and many other flashpoints of disaffection and discontent on the continent.

      Franz Kafka was a writer of rare originality and pained integrity. All his life, he felt insecure and not up to it. Feelings of worthlessness and unworthiness gnawed at his tortured soul. Shortly after his engagement, he wrote to his future wife promising her only a future of “unadulterated unhappiness”.  “Unadulterated unhappiness” is unhappiness at its summit, pure, concentrated and undiluted. Sensing mortal danger that is immediate and pressing, the poor woman broke off the engagement and fled. Thus ended the marital career of a lonely and alienated genius even before it began.

      Kafka remained a model celibate for the rest of his life. He was a victim of multiple identities each cancelling out the other leaving an empty shell at the heart of it all. He was a German-speaking Czechoslovakian Jew, a convoluted identity which merely reinforced his burden and misery since he was neither a German, nor a Czech or a Slovakian. It was little surprise that the whole post-Habsburg contraption unraveled with the Czechs and Slovakians being the last to bail themselves out in a courteous and friendly parting of ways.

       As a result of the endemic crisis of nationhood and unviable identity spawned by the whimsical malevolence of the colonial cartography of Africa, there are many Nigerians who believe that they have been at the receiving end of unadulterated unhappiness in the hands of their country. A lot of people believe that the coerced marriage of the mutually incompatible has produced nothing but protracted misery and retrogression. Many have gone to their grave regretting the nationhood imposed on them by the colonial masters. “What type of a country is this?” Ken Saro-Wiwa was known to have muttered after several crude attempts to hang him failed, before he finally gave his soul to his maker. The rudimentary and primitive execution contraption was reported to have been hurriedly flown from Sokoto Prison that same morning.

    The late Justice Adewale Thompson was justly celebrated as a mystic, aficionado of arcane mysteries and exemplar of Black Exceptionalism. He believed that Nigeria and the Black race were the greatest things to have happened to humanity. But towards the end of his life when he was asked whether he would like to return to Nigeria to continue with his great work as he often hinted, the great man retorted that he had suffered enough. When Wole Soyinka, the Nobel laureate, was asked whether he could distinguish between hell and heaven, he responded that having lived in Nigeria for most of his life, he had a fair idea of what hell would be like. Before he died in exile, Chinua Achebe had already buried Nigeria.

    These dismissals and disavowals of Nigeria by some of its most illustrious citizens ever are fairly representative of widespread disillusionment among the elite of the country. Yet there are many dissenting voices who also contend that the inability of Nigeria to cohere and solidify as a holistic and organic nation with a rock solid national identity is a result of the fractiousness and poverty of vision of its corrupt, avaricious elite. They must not be allowed to wash their hands off the problems. In an acidic reformulation of Count Leo Tolstoy’s original aphorism about all happy families being the same, some political theorists have expanded the vista to incorporate nations: all happy nations are the same it is only unhappy nations that are unhappy in their own unique way.

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       To corroborate the startling insight of this daring inversion, it is said that all civilized nations feel the same : tap water running, electricity flowing, the unsheltered reduced to a minimum, public transportation zooming ceaselessly and with clockwork efficiency, insecurity reduced to the barest minimum, public safety guaranteed by an efficient policing system and adequate medical facilities available to all citizens with affordable food available to all. It must be added that all these countries have also put in place systems of governance which guarantee free and fair elections and which allow the people to choose their leaders and representatives.

      Apart from failing in all or most of these verifiable indices of modern civilization, a country like Nigeria is also seen to be plagued by its own unique combo of internal discontent and disaffection with the entire system. Multi-dimensional insecurity, with economic, political and religious insurrection in the entire north combined with urban terrorism in the South West and generalized disorder in significant sections of the South East have become the main drivers of agricultural collapse in the rural areas, particularly in the former food belts of the Niger-Benue confluence and the smooth transportation of goods in the entire country. Despite some heroic efforts to stem the tide, unfettered corruption and mismanagement remain rife and have hobbled industrial growth, stymied educational development and crippled innovative instances of infrastructural development. The only significant exception is Lagos and one or two of the old LOOBO states.

     Yet with this dismal and dreary picture painted, it is easy to overlook some of the heroic and herculean efforts that have been invested in redeeming and sanitizing Nigeria over the decades, the June 12 struggle for example. But they appear too little and far between. When subsumed within the context of generalized incompetence and startling failure of leadership, the labours of our heroes and avatars appear to be in vain. For example, the first generation of Nigerian leaders, in particular a visionary and developmental genius like Obafemi Awolowo, who was touted by western experts as belonging to the front ranks of leaders anywhere in the developed world and the string of economic wizards such as the remarkable Odutola brothers, Louis Odumegwu-Ojukwu, Aminu Dantata and Odulate of the Alabukun fame who built industrial empires from scratch, would be weeping in their grave at the plight of their nation.

       As it has been observed by Louis Althusser, it is only the production of new heroes keeps old heroes alive. This is why it is important at this point to make a brief detour to some important conjunctures in our journey so far in order to plot the way forward. It is said that when youths stumble, they cast anxious gazes at what lies ahead, but when elders falter, they cast a retrospective glance at what led them to where. In early 1985, forty years ago, this writer was approached by the duo of Dele Giwa and Ray Ekpu of Newswatch magazine fame to contribute an article to commemorate Nigeria’s twenty fifth anniversary later that year. So important was the project to them that both drove down to Ife where one was based then to seek out the columnist.

      The resultant effort was a landmark publication on the journey of Nigeria up till that moment with so many contributions of rare insights by distinguished writers that explored many aspects of the Nigerian condition in their multidimensional perplexities and overdetermined contradictions. Our own contribution explored the maddening paradoxes, ironies and ambiguities that have dogged the Nigerian condition since amalgamation. In the opinion of many, it was a rousing tour de force. Ever since, the concept of paradox has entered the Nigerian imagination and public discourse both as a framing referent and as a diagnostic tool for plumbing the depths of postcolonial disorder.

       Four decades after, one continues to be astonished and astounded by the magnitude and acuity of the insight. How else can one classify the plight of a nation blessed with the most arable land mass and such contrasting climatological conditions that it could produce anything under the sun yet is unable to feed its populace? How does one describe a nation that sits atop the most spectacular array of mineral riches that any society has been blessed with since the dawn of civilization but which has become a byword for multidimensional poverty? What would the Malaysians think each time Nigeria demands for the palm oil which they now produce with industrial ease? Are these not the same people that gifted them with the seedlings with which they took off a few decades earlier? Given its spectacular human endowments and natural resources, the nation ought to be in the front rank of leading nations but is instead dismissed as a monumental joke; a gross caricature of authentic nationhood.

      The paradox even extends to the game of soccer so beloved by most Nigerians. Despite having thrown up some of the greatest soccer prodigies the world has seen in the last three decades, the country has so far been unable to come up with eleven men that will cohere and congeal into a solid national team that will be a global sensation. In the end, it is obvious that nothing can beat Henry Kissinger’s great insight that a nation’s football team is willy-nilly a reflection of the national character. With the problem now thrown into bold relief, it should be obvious that any government that hopes to make a significant dent on Nigeria’s acute dysfunction must roll up its sleeve to tackle the foundational problems of inauthentic nationhood. 

      More obvious is the fact that this cannot be done without significant political reforms which will broaden the narrow and severely limited base of the current national consensus, tackle the problem of corruption and misappropriation of national resources in a holistic and systematic manner and press for a more inclusive and egalitarian economic programme which conduces to more social harmony and national peace. The current government has tried to tackle these problems which presuppose that its instincts are in the right direction. But it will require far more integrative rigour, mental discipline and theoretical sophistication which allow us to borrow ideas from other places without having to subject ourselves to their cultural enslavement. Nations perish not because it is their destiny to perish but because they have refused to adapt their ways to changing times.

  • London spanks the legal charlatan

    London spanks the legal charlatan

    Oh boy, oh boy, has anybody heard from the bespoke, be-jeweled and hair-splitting legal superbrat and braggart after the humiliating debacle in a London court? Mum has been the word from the mountebank. It has been rumoured that such was the resounding shellacking that the old boy decided to seek treatment in a London infirmary. What he needs is an infirmary for the morally and ethically infirm. Another version has it that he immediately flew home to seek rehab from native doctors in the ravines of his local community. Just as khaki no be leather, London no be Lugbe. It is said that a child who is not well taught at home will be forced to learn his lesson from outside the home. Once again, it is London that has come to the rescue of Nigeria’s ruined judicial and legal system.

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     The pomaded panjandrum had arrived in court hoping to bluff his way through the tangled web of lies, deceits, criminal forgery and perjury through the usual combination of blustery, braggadocio and boastful self-importance. He had let it be known beforehand that he was quite an important lawyer back home in Nigeria. But the intrepid and eagle-eyed judge who could see fraud from a mile off was having none of that nonsense as he made a short shrift of both the man and his case. By the time he was through with our SAN sans commonsense, he was said to have cut sorry figure indeed. The judge even called to question his basic competence in evidentiary procedure.  

      It was another sad day of disgrace and dishonor for the Nigerian legal system. It calls attention once again to the terrible rot in the system. With this tragicomic unraveling, our man’s claims to a sham doctorate degree and a yeye professorship procured from a wosiwosi , back alley trading concern based in Zambia and the Caribbean have all gone up in a bonfire of vanity and venality. The matter will not end there, we promise.