Category: Tatalo Alamu

  • Salute to a citizen-journalist extraordinaire

    Salute to a citizen-journalist extraordinaire

    Columnist joins many of our compatriots on the trail of commendation and appreciation of Femi Orebe, a must read columnist on this stable for almost twenty years as he became an octogenarian this past week. To be honest and truthful yours sincerely has never been a fan of the appellation ”citizen journalist”,  for if there are citizen journalists, why can’t there be citizen doctors, citizen engineers, citizen lawyers, etc? Is this not another scam to further debase and devalue an otherwise noble profession? But now that everyone with a computer and plenty of data is a journalist, the deluge has made one to be appreciative of those who are willing to submit themselves to a modicum of the discipline of the Discipline.

    Read Also: Ode to Orebe, octogenarian columnist

      A news-making newshound born with an innate curiosity about unusual developments and a tireless addiction to political “gist”, there is a sense in which it was inevitable that the man famously known as Love me Obere, a deliberate garbling of his name by mischievous campus journalists chronicling his social adventures but also wary of litigation, to make a detour into journalism. As the editor of the Cobra, the most dreaded campus newspaper of the time, this writer counts himself as one of his principal posthumous tormentors, posthumous in the sense that even though he left shortly before we got in, we continued to regale readers with tales of his campus adventures. He took it all in the chin with laughter and cursing, blaming it all on awon omo radarada.

      It is an irony of fate if that detour and side profession now threatens to overwhelm and elbow out his original calling as a gifted bureaucrat. He writes with such straightforward ease and facility that one cannot but recall the strenuous simplicity of the AJP Taylor school of historiography. Here is wishing bros many more years of distinguished service to the fatherland.   

  • Citizens, citoyens and fellow compatriots

    Citizens, citoyens and fellow compatriots

    As Nigeria’s sixty fifth birthday anniversary approaches, it is imperative, beyond partisan considerations, to ask some questions about the fate and fortunes of liberal democracy in the greatest conglomeration of Black people in the world. The question is even more pressing in the light of notable developments in Western nations, particularly the rise of rightwing populism and xenophobic nationalism in leading western nations such as America, England and France. As this column has noted several times in the last few years, these developments may suggest some fraying at the edges of the nation-state paradigm itself and the possibility of its undergoing some radical mutations as historical developments unfold.

      If this were to be the case, it will amount to double jeopardy for African nations that are yet to inculcate the habits and operational procedures of the nation-state after the epoch of empires before they are frog-marched once again into uncharted territory. The question must now be broached as to why western-type liberal democracy seems to be taking its time to take root in Africa. Why has it proved difficult for Africans to internalize and interiorize its habits and norms? At the superficial level, the question can be converted to its own answer. Africa is not Western Europe or America for that matter. The mode of acculturation and socialization of each entity is different. So is their historic trajectory. Africa is the last bastion of traditional feudal autocracy.

     But something far more profound and fundamental seems to be afoot. Early developmental economists such as Samir Amin, the iconic, Egyptian-born radical economist, historian and social philosopher, suggested that Europe, America, Australia, New Zealand were able to overpower and overcome the contradictions of feudalism so rapidly ironically because they were at the periphery unlike its classical formation in China, India, Ethiopia, the Arab countries and core Africa. As a matter of fact, the United States is supposed to represent a complete new beginning for humanity founded on the ashes of feudal Europe.

      Even then it took several centuries of turmoil and bloody strife preceding the signing and sealing of the Magna Carta in June 1215 through subsequent civil wars and a revolution to domesticate and naturalize the democratic franchise in Britain. It was only in the last century that adult suffrage was extended to all male and later women. In America despite the self-declared “self-evident” truths that all men are born equal, it took centuries of protests and violent confrontations on the streets for Black people to be declassified as sub-human curios not worthy of voting or being voted for. Democracy is not a Kayo-kayo festival.

       When African postcolonial elites cotton on to the heroic struggles for self-emancipation of other people to demand same for their nation without having expended the same toil, tears and sufferings for the emancipation of their own people not to talk of immersing themselves in their analogous struggles except when it confers certain privileges and political advantages on them, that is breastfeeding democracy leading to empty caterwauling and the sulking of colonial sucklings. They quote John Locke’s theory of social contract without understanding its limited universal applicability, what led to what and the context and circumstances.

    They warmly approve of Rousseau’s famous saying that man is born free but is in chains everywhere, without appreciating the fact that not all “men” fall into that social category or genetic classification.  Rather than coming to grip with their intellectual, political and moral limitations and go back to the drawing board, they resort to hoary prescriptions and demagoguery about how to move democracy forward and safeguard votes which is dead on arrival because it is founded on peer-envy and losers’ fatigue. Seeing through the hegemonic ruse, elites from countervailing cultural formations dismiss it all with contempt and hostility, a development which reinforces the extant ethnic temples and drives the prospects of liberal democracy further away. You cannot buy into a game of numbers and ethnic herd-count after conducting your own tribal census and then buy out midgame. That is electoral disruption, or isn’t it?

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      This is the bane of democratic growth and expansion in Nigeria with the nuclear caucus of each dominant group gaming away to snatch the supreme laurel on the basis of extant strengths and advantages rather than relying on a pan-national consensus. In such circumstances, it is the dominant group that is able to claw away at the electoral strengths of rival power formations and cobble together the semblance of a national consensus that is bound to prevail at the centre. This is what happened in 2023 and may yet repeat itself in 2027 given the enormous economic and strategic resources that have since accrued to those that have found themselves controlling the levers of power at the centre despite the wailings about pangs of hunger.

    It is a precarious situation and the circumstances are far from rosy. It is an established fact that in conditions of depressing and distressing economic indices, elite contestation for power which involves fanning the embers of religious and cultural identities in an already severely polarized polity may eventuate in political disorder and ethnic confrontation on a prohibitive scale. The western powers that used to nudge Nigeria in the direction of democratic rectitude and restitution are all embroiled in internal contradictions and existential complications of their own which leaves no room for international do-gooding.

      It reminds one of an anecdote about Charles de Gaulle, the greatest Frenchman of the last century. After surviving another of the numerous attempts on his life, the get-away car conveying him to safety had barely left the scene when it developed a flat tyre. The tall looping figure of Charles de Gaulle craned out and then ruefully noted that those who were trying to save his life were as incompetent as those who were trying to kill him. Democracy has many night nurses who often turn out to be daylight killer-medics.

    Democracy may be a permanent work in progress. But when improperly and incompetently handled, it is also prone to quick regression and summary retrogression. We have seen this in the many coups, countercoups, civil uprisings, religious upheavals, military annulment of election and the consequent abridgement of democratic growth as well as the instances of civilian autocracy that this country has hosted since independence. They all point at something very fundamental: the lack of nourishments and nutrients on which a viable and sustainable democratic culture can grow and flourish.

       To compound our predicament, this foundational lack is complicated by the vestiges of traditional authoritarian rule which we inherited from our forebears and which has survived the most outlandish onslaught of colonization. The rich irony is that traditional authoritarian rule had its unique checks and balances which allowed empires, kingdoms and autonomous principalities to flourish until the colonial irruption. Had it been that we had listened to some of our visionary founding fathers who insisted that what has been handed to us is not a real nation in the classical sense of the word but a pastiche and mosaic of countervailing ethnicities with different cultures and different historical trajectories, we could have fared much better because the scope and enormity of the task ahead would have been apparent.

       For example, while the Yoruba spent most of a previous century fighting themselves in a series of interlocking civil wars, the Igbo people were in a world of their own with periodic eruptions of internecine bloodletting while the Fulani conquerors had just completed a systematic decimation and takeover of Hausaland. To beat all these together into an organic whole would have required masters of violent homogeneity or a political surgeon of uncommon skill of surgical disentanglement and unbundling. But with the heady beat of independence, rather than facing the fundamental issues squarely, we headed straight off to uncharted territory. Six years later, the whole thing fell apart and we are still at it sixty years later.

     So, let us by all means continue with our quarrelling and bickering about the validity of the military-ordained 1999 constitution, the need for a national dialogue, the tragic unraveling of the judiciary, INEC and its failings, the need for state police, devolution of power and the messy constitutional impasse about Local Government which speak to the tyranny of overbearing centralization and its strangulation of genuine democratic aspiration of Nigerians for over sixty years. But let us also revive debates about certain issues that are even more germane and foundational to our democratic evolution, particularly our inability to throw up a genuine nationalist and patriotic political class, the drastic decline of civic consciousness and the continuing absence of an authentic citizenry to act as guardrails against democratic derailment.

       So far, what we have in the context fierce elite contestation for power without a coherent and holistic nationalist ideology of development and democratic growth is ethnic citizenship or nationalism in furious reverse gear in which primordial loyalty to tribal origins and aspirations trump all considerations for the larger nation. In the ensuing collision of tribal temples and templates, the soul and essence of the nation is lost leaving an amorphous mass of contending ethnic nationalities. Having been handed Nigeria by the colonial masters, we are finding the task of creating Nigerians a mission impossible, except by default.

       We must thank the authorities for restoring the teaching of history to our school curriculum. This is the way to go. The original decision to expunge history from our pedagogical space is so bizarre in its malicious intent and conception that it could only have come from the philistine mindset of a perverse egomaniac. As we noted only last week, It has led to a rupture of heroic remembrance and a short-circuiting of institutional memory. We must shudder at the effect and impact of this on a whole generation of our youngsters. Unfortunately, while the teaching of history can be restored and civic consciousness imparted by boosting and enhancing national literacy levels, not so authentic citizenship which is an integral and organic bastion of the storied history of a united people in all their shared destiny, their shared inspirations and aspirations and their shared faith in the orgiastic future.

       It is the absence of authentic citizenship aided by a historical void and the collapse of civic consciousness which opens the door and a pathway to the phenomenon of “fellow countrymen”, the false narrative beloved of military despotism and civilian autocracy alike in which there is no fellow feeling or compatriots but the barbarity of cave-dwellers. Fortunately as that phenomenon recedes into remote and malignant antiquity, we have the opportunity to create the nation anew. If the opportunity slips, the alternative is too dark and sinister to contemplate. Happy anniversary to the nation.

  • Non-humans to regulate human behavior: Advantage Albania ?

    Non-humans to regulate human behavior: Advantage Albania ?

    Oh boy, oh boy, we surely live in interesting times. It is not only Africa that is in trouble, other parts of the world, particularly Europe and America, are experiencing unique tremors. The human species has never appeared more troubled and tormented by its own foibles and the toxic effluence and side-effects of sheer genius. Has anybody ever heard the song Spirits in a Material World? As President Donald Trump’s Air Force1 glided gracefully into the clouds on Thursday at Stansted Airport on departure from Britain after a historic state visit, one prayed that some astral gliders would not swoop on the plane and forcibly reroute it to an unknown destination.

     One had prayed for the day never to arrive when robotic machines infused with artificial intelligence would develop enough initiative and nous to overwhelm and overpower their human masters and take over the affairs of humanity. If it seems like unrealizable Science Fiction please be guided that future reality sometimes begins like unactualizable fiction. Albania, a remote semi-European country just a stone’s throw from Italy but essentially of Balkan provenance, has taken the bull by the horn. A land of heroic warriors and doughty fighters, the Albanians are just peeping out to the outside world after many centuries and epochs of serial entombments by Roman, Ottoman and modern European civilizations. They even survived a nasty spell of communist inquisition under the notoriously savage rule of an Islamic tyrant known as Enver Hoxha who took the country and its people back to the Stone Age only for the country to succumb to a protracted siege of economic anarchy and political turmoil. Corruption and mismanagement of scarce resources became rife.

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       It is said that when flies are eating up a madman no one seems to be bothered, it is only when a madman begins to gobble up his tormentors that eyebrows are raised. The Albanians seem to tire of that nonsense. They have decided to place their fate in the hands of non-human or in-human actors. According to a report: “Albania has become the first country in the world to appoint an IA as a minister.  The virtual official, named Dijella (“ sun in Albanian”) will oversee public procurement. Ministries will submit their application for tenders, and Dijella will process them and make decisions. Her role? Oversee government contracts, block favouritism & bribery and boost transparency…”

      It is a way of arriving at modernity and the impersonal rigours of western bureaucracy by other means. This is how advances in science in the modern world can come to the aid of less developed countries on their own terms as Lee Kuan Yew famously demonstrated in Singapore. Western scientific discoveries come in handy when it comes to inculcating Weberian rigour and rationality in permissive epistemologies. Fred Engels chuckled that economically backward countries can play first violin in Music. The bet is that they didn’t make the violin in the first instance. Oh Dijella, if you are ever persuaded to stray or wander to some shorelines in Africa, you will be lucky if you are not abducted or stolen away in the first instance. This is what the Yoruba people call “Amodemaja” or he who abducts both the hunter and his dog. Welcome to the real McCoy.

  • The Travails of Heroic Politics: Two exemplary paradigms

    The Travails of Heroic Politics: Two exemplary paradigms

    Last week was the sixteenth anniversary of the passing of Ganiyu Oyesola Fawehinmi, Nigeria’s legal Spartacus, fiery defender of human rights and indefatigable crusader against executive lawlessness, who shook the scaffolding of military absolutism to its foundation in Nigeria. As usual, there was a sprinkling of commentaries and commendations for the departed hero and icon of Nigeria’s anti-military struggle. But as it can be expected of a nation in perpetual mourning, they were few and far between.  Gani  is one of those rare people who pass into legend in their life time. But as time elapses, it is obvious that the late hero is beginning to recede into remote antiquity. There are many youngsters who will mope and gaze at you if you ask them what Gani meant to them. You will be lucky if one of the brighter and more informed ones  did not query you as to whether that was not an elderly mispronunciation of Gianni, a Serie A Italian League player.                                                                          

      To the best of our knowledge, there is no Serie A League player known as Gianni.  As reality becomes indistinguishable from fantasy in our brave new world, the ultimate nightmare will be when smart-school certificated ignorance and artificial intelligence overwhelm real knowledge. As time goes on, the real Gani is likely to morph into a veritable myth, shrouded in mystery and mythology ; a trope for freedom fighting just like the legendary Spartacus who led a revolt of slaves against the Roman oligarchy which provoked a bloody reprisal with Spartacus himself summarily executed upon capture. It can be argued that Gani’s military tormentors only subjected him to a more circuitous and devious execution with serial and sadistic detention among dope-crazed criminals and other dregs of humanity finally infiltrating and insinuating killer cancer cells into his brave lungs.

        This is where the historic ironies deepen. Heavens forbid that we suffer a relapse into military rule. But this is where Gani excelled most as a fierce and ferocious campaigner for freedom and scourge of military despotism rather than as an avatar of democratic emancipation except as a byproduct of his epic and herculean exertions. He could not be found in the great constitutional debates that shaped the foundational fortunes of the nation and the courtroom drama that defined its democratic existence. He had no time for democratic niceties and if his contempt for conventional politicians was legendary, so was his abrasive disdain for deal-making, bridge-building and grubby wheeling and shadowy conspiring which are the hallmark of regular politics, particularly in a fractious multi-ethnic and multi-cultural Babel like Nigeria.

     An anti-authoritarian authoritarian, Gani was the perfect embodiment of the contradictions and ambiguities of the age. His heroes are not democratic exemplars but visionary dictators who seized their societies by the scruff of the neck and dragged their denizens screaming and kicking to the portals of political modernity and economic prosperity by whatever means. Gifted with an impish sense of macabre humour, Gani famously opined that the only coup he would welcome henceforth in the nation was one in which the victor emerged on television after several days of relentless bloodletting too tired and exhausted to address the nation.

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      This is why Gani’s solitary shot at the Nigerian presidency in 2003 ended in an electoral debacle. Both the electorate and the selectorate made a short shrift of his ambition to rule his beloved country. His eponymous Nigerian masses did not materialize at the booths. Neither did his pan-Nigeria peasant class who were projected to sweep away the cobwebs of corruption and political perfidy from the nation. They voted with their feet or failing that with their stomach. So aghast was the legal crusader at the final audit of the miserable vote allocated to him in the egregiously rigged election that he broke down and wept profusely according to his own letter to the Nigerian press. It was the epistolary pinnacle of an electoral disaster foreseen. Gani’s lion heart could take only one more bogus election and he could only watch from the sidelines. That was the electoral disaster of 2007 which was so globally ridiculed that even the victor was compelled to distance himself from his victory. The legal titan was recalled by his maker in 2009. 

       Although our other  protagonist shared ideological commonality with Gani as a fellow progressive dedicated to the emancipation of their people, they did not employ the same means. Unlike Gani who was spontaneously combustible and socially engaging, Baba Omojola was the quintessential intellectual who hid himself from the limelight and who preferred to be in the operational engine room. Quiet, deliberate and understated, he did not need to carry arms because his head housed a grenade launcher. Soft spoken, wiry and slight of build, it was easy to mistake the harmless looking, chronically kind-hearted gentleman for a mildly successful farmer from the interior who was on a visit to the city.

      Yet he was one of the best educated and most internationally exposed Nigerians of his generation, graduating with First Class Honours in 1961 from the prestigious London School of Economics and was on the verge of being called to the English Bar when he erupted among a crowd of protesters against apartheid and was promptly arrested and charged to court for conduct prejudicial to public order. The judge gave him an option: apologize and go back to his legal pursuits or forfeit everything. Omojola refused and there and then ended his law career. But not so a lifetime of social activism devoted to the emancipation of the toiling masses. He would always be found in the engine room of revolutionary change and sometimes amidst the commotion and combustion on the street: uncomplaining, unrelenting, with his cherubic smile, his lack of airs and a hearty artlessness which endeared him to all. He fell fighting, just as he finished delivering a characteristically thoughtful presentation to President Jonathan’s commission on national dialogue in Akure a week after his seventy fifth birthday in 2013.

    Babarinde Adewole Omojola Ajibola was a giant among men and a rebel with a cause. It was easy to mistake him for a bucolic agrarian. But he was in fact of solid middle class antecedents and the son of a distinguished clergyman. But he forswore his class and religion to embrace the Ifa corpus and the global proletariat. Despite occasional strategic retreats necessitated by unfavourable balance of force, he never looked back and soldiered on till the bitter end. It must be said that despite fundamental differences in strategy and perhaps in ultimate vision, the current president is a staunch admirer of both men for their unwavering heroism and selfless sacrifices at the behest of their people. But while he was cagily wary of Gani’s tempestuous tantrums and iconoclastic disdain for politicians, Tinubu was wholly at home with Omojola’s earthy sense of humour and self-effacing benignity.

       On a visit to London in 2009, one had impressed it on the former senator the need to visit a sick and bedridden Gani and he wholeheartedly agreed. Upon returning to Nigeria, he called to inform that the great man had passed on that morning. Four years after in 2013, one had tried to nudge him to attend Baba Omojola’s birthday. We both agreed that one should do the needful. It was a colourful birthday for the gracefully aging icon with friends, admirers and ideological acolytes from all over the country gracing the occasion. We did not know that it was the last snapshot of a colossus. Exactly a week after, the great man slumped and disappeared forever into the cosmic void. Both men would not at this moment recognize the world they had left behind.

       As this column has noted several times in recent years, we live in very interesting times. Game-changing events are occurring with some amazing rapidity and at such a dizzying pace that it is difficult if not impossible to make sense of the emerging international order. First is the seismic shift to the right in many developed countries, particularly in leading western countries and the rise of authoritarian populism often accompanied by xenophobia. The rise of Donald Trump in America and the creeping ascendancy of Nigel Farage and the Reform-UK party are just the tip of the iceberg.                                         

      Second, insensitivity to harmonious coexistence within nations seems to compel insensitivity to ordered existence without and we are witnessing an upsurge of a telling disregard for the sovereignty of other nations and the sanctity of international borders which is the fundamental canon and raison d’etre of the nation-state paradigm in its post-Westphalia actuality.  As it is, America is still hoping for an annexation of Greenland if it does not succeed in adding Canada as its fifty first state. Israel, the new colonial power in the Middle East, is setting a new norm in international normlessness having bombed Iran and Syria into compliant quietude and having decimated both Palestine and Gaza Strip into near oblivion. The idea of a dual state is dead before arrival like thousands of Palestinian children.

      This week, the principal warrior-nation of our epoch added another feather to its cap by summarily descending on Qatar which was acting as a peacemaker and negotiator. With nothing to hold Russia back in its pan-Slavic hegemonic obsession, it is now obvious that the horrific slow-motion evisceration of Ukraine will end in cruel partitioning. With America considerably weakened by moral complicity and political decline that will be the signal for China to invade and take back its old province of Taipei. As it was with the old world, the map of the new world is being forcibly redrawn by violence and might. Things don’t ever change that much, or do they? The pristine nature of humanity appears irreversible in its irredeemable savagery.

       The third signal development of our epoch is the decimation of the old left as an effective force for setting progressive political agenda and for raising the moral tone and tenor of human engagement in a world of plutocratic politics and predatory decimation of human and national resources. Leftwing politics has suffered a calamitous decline and is in retreat everywhere. With this defeat, the prospects of a humane and humanitarian intervention in human affairs and of ameliorative and redemptive politics have gone out of the window.

    Some western commentators have called this development which can be linked to the death of actually existing socialist states as the de-Marxification of the western world but we see it as the de-socialization of human conscience occasioned by an exponential rise in global population and the attendant competition for resources. Given the unfavourable international climate and the decimation of the best and brightest and the most ideologically committed that Nigeria has thrown up at the altar of sectarian politics, is it not time to begin to reimagine politics in a way that repositions the Black race in a “post-ideological” world? May the noble souls of Gani and Baba Omojola rest in peace.

  • Okon appears for the goat

    Okon appears for the goat

    As daily existence takes on a decidedly surrealistic and absurdist hue in Nigeria, not even the sacred laws of reality are sacred anymore. Welcome to Kafkaland. Reports reaching snooper indicate that the thief that turned to a goat has been auctioned to a popular Lagos food seller who journeyed south specifically for the purpose. So then if you order for goat leg at your local eatery and you find human toes popping out of the bowl, don’t be dismayed, it is all part of growing up in cuckoo’s land.

    Actually before the said auction, it had been drama galore with a substantial portion of the police equipment fund going to crack herbalists who had promised to force the stupid goat back to the hell of human existence. Alas, it was all to no avail as the mad goat stuck to its guns. You can trust Okon to cotton on to the dark fun, having recovered from the last fiasco with Baba Lekki. One fine morning, Okon showed up in court claiming to be an interpreter for the goat who happened to be his bosom friend in real—or unreal—life.

    The presiding lady judge could not understand what all the fuss was about as she descended from her chambers into the court room. The police quickly explained to her that they were on the verge of cracking a major mystery that had turned the entire force into an object of public ridicule. The good old lady could not believe her ears. She eyed Okon with a mixture of concern and bewilderment.

    “And what did you say the gentlemen is here for again?” she asked the police.

    “Na goat interpreter. Na him go talk to the goat, and the stupid goat must to answer today today”, the police sergeant said with malice and drunken frustration.

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    “I see”, the lady judge said shaking her head. “Mr Man, is that correct?” she asked Okon.

    “My sister, na true true. See me see trouble oo. You come resemble one woman  I dey hammer for Mushin Olosa. Abi na you true true?” Okon replied with a devilish smile.  The lady judge was not amused. She eyed Okon with a ferocious scowl.

    “Please conduct yourself properly before a court of law”, the lady snapped.

        “I no be bus conductor oo, I be houseboy”, Okon snorted.

    “All right, all right. What is your name?” the lady asked with a hint of panic and exasperation.

    “I be Etubom Okon Anthony Okon”, the mad boy answered.

    “And what is the goat’s name?”

    “Surulere”, Okon replied instantly.

     “No, no no. I don’t mean his nickname. I mean his real name”, the judge asked as panic and confusion began to set in.

    “Sebi im nickname na the name him dey use when him dey nick dem pocket for Tin Can, abi? Him name na Ejimofor Anikilaja and him be wharf rat no be armed robber at all at all” At this point, the goat let out some heavy bleating.

    “You see now”, Okon began with a triumphant grin. “The goat be angry and hungry. Him say he never chop since dem capture am. Him say dem wicked and crooked police dey take all him chop money drink burukutu so tey dem come dey smile like dem asinwin for court”. At this point everybody, including the police, broke into hilarious laughter. The whole place became a bedlam of raucous mirth. The lady judge brought her gavel down on the table with great force.

        “Order, order!” She screamed.

    “Me I want Apu and stockfish. Make dem give dem goat banana and ice cream”, Okon croaked.

        “What?” the judge said, straining her ears in utter disbelief.

         “My sister, I think say you say make we order?”

          “Oh my God!” the high strung lady judge shrilled.

          “My sister”, Okon began with sadistic glee but the irate judge cut him short.

           “Stop calling me your sister. I am not your sister. You say my lord, you hear?” she screamed.

           “My Rod”,,Okon began, eyeing the poor woman with criminal intent.

           “ What?” the poor woman shrieked.

            “You know say I be Efik and I know sabi call dem Yanminrin word,” Okon crowed with relish. At this point, the goat let off a prolonged bleating. “You see the goat say all of una na crooks and criminals and dat dis kontri don yamutu sam sam”, Okon intoned.

        On this note, the stricken lady began frantically gathering her paper as she back-heeled into her chambers. The police, sensing that they have been taken for a big ride, made a move to arrest Okon but the goat began barking furiously even as it strained its leash. “If you touch me, I will turn into a lion”, Okon threatened . Upon hearing this, the police fled, leaving Okon to walk out of the court room with a majestic frown.

         First published in 2010

  • A Romp through the Beautiful Interior

    A Romp through the Beautiful Interior

    To the wonderful Yoruba interior which can be as captivating as it is bewitching in its pristine essence, this past Saturday and Sunday to reconnect with the soul of a storied people. Some of our Lagos-based urban sophisticate friends and cosmopolitan deracinѐ often dismiss these constant retreats as a satanic shuttle in the occult crypt; a gathering of wizened witches and samurai sorcerers in the heartland of juju and dark metaphysics.  One of them even located the Talmudic tavern as somewhere between the impossibly named villages of Akiriboto and Majeroku which are actually about three miles apart. But it is an anti-native lie from the pit of hell; a continuation of the class war between the city-dwellers and the denizens of the interior.

      Till date, Lagosian urbanites often dismiss people from the interior as country bumpkins. To hear the surviving aristocratic dinosaurs among them pronounce the word with a particular upper class inflection is a source of wicked hilarity. The putdown is redolent of cave-dwelling and its attendant incivilities, to put it with diplomatic reticence. Yet having been taught a hard lesson in political marksmanship, economic gamesmanship and spiritual hay-making by these selfsame yokels, our coastal aristos have refused to take heed. In seventeenth and eighteenth century England, city people fleeing from the ravages and disorientation of rapid industrialization in all their alienating necessities often headed for the countryside for solace and relief. Till date in western societies, living in the leafy suburban far away from the chaos and disorder of the inner city is seen to be “cool” and cultivated. Anybody who wants to find out how the heroism and hardiness of the people survive in hard times; and how a nation embroiled in postcolonial turmoil in all its devastating ramifications manages to trump them all, needs an unguided visit to the interior and its rugged and redoubtable interstices.

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      Modernity, modernization and their concomitant incubus of globalization have not been kind to Africa and its postcolonial nations, particularly a multi-ethnic behemoth like Nigeria. It has led to a further centralization of political and economic power in the old metropolitan centres and an intensification of the marginalization of the margins or the peripheralization of the traditional peripheries. Only countries with the requisite culture, national philosophy and resourceful politics have been able to claw something back. In the old peripheries, a new margin has emerged; a periphery of peripheries such as can be seen in their rural hell-holes, their inner cities with violence, struggle for scarce land and inter-ethnic conflicts fuelling food insecurity, threat of famine and an apocalyptic meltdown.

       The bigger the head, the bigger the headache, as they say. The institutional ravages of modernity and globalization have been quite unkind to a country like Nigeria. None of its precolonial institutions has been spared the disorientation of their invasive and disruptive momentum. Old certitudes and certainties have been smashed up in the collision of altars with nothing passable to replace them.  Worse hit perhaps is its old traditional institution and its rampart and regnant royalty. But even among casualties, there are often more remarkable casualties. In death, there is also class formation. Ask William Shakespeare, because when beggars die, there are no comets seen. The worst hit traditional institution in contemporary Nigeria is the Yoruba Obaship system probably because of its centuries old glory and grandeur and its stellar antecedents.

      But in recent years, particularly in the last two decades, royal rectitude and regal comportment appear to have gone out of the window. To be sure, there remain stellar royal exemplars and shining symbols of the old order. However, in the main, the Yoruba Obaship institution has become a site of outlandish crime and a scene of disgrace and dishonour to the entire race. The condemnation has come in a torrent and they have been as unsparing as they are unstinting. Reading through some of them makes one wilt in tears and regrets. For a race justly celebrated for its feudal deference to traditional authority and worship of royalty, this is quite a landmark development which must be monitored closely.

      For their lust and avarice, our royal fathers have lost their illustrious lustre and sacred nobility. The disrespect and disregard is frank and frantic. There is an open campaign for scrapping the entire institution. It may yet come in a revolutionary upheaval which will upend the entire polity. But for now and for strategic and security reasons, it is not advisable to throw away the baby with the bath water. What the Obaship system needs is rigorous reform and stern reevaluation. But for globalization which has brought the world together in the centre, what will an Apetu be doing moonlighting and stealing in America while pretending to be ruling his people from abroad?

      These are some of the questions one intended to put to the newly ennobled Soun of Ogbomosho, Oba Afolabi Olaoye, as we intended to pay him an unscheduled royal homage in his storied homestead. The Soun was not the principal reason for our visit to Ogbomosho. Rather, it was to honour the memory of our late father in-law, Chief Christopher Adepoju Adeyanju, businessman, hotelier and entrepreneur on the tenth anniversary of his departure. He was a childhood friend of the late Soun and both of them had journeyed to Jos to make their fortune with Adeyanju eventually departing for Mubi in the old Adamawa Province where he established himself as a major retailer and industrial force.

     But why do we think Oba Olaoye is even in a position to answer these weighty posers? He was this columnist’s student at the fabled University of Ife and must have imbibed some of the intellectual rigour for which the old department of Literature in English became world famous. Despite the marked decline in the Obaship institution in recent years, there is still a lot of architecture in the ruins. The Alake of Egbaland, Oba Adedotun Aremu Gbadebo, remains a consummate military intellectual, cultural icon and discerning political analyst. The Orangun of Oke Ila, Oba Adedokun Abolarin, is impeccably well-conducted and a shining symbol of the possibilities of transformative royal leadership in his domain. Our own sovereign monarch, the Olufi, Oba (Dr) Adetoyese Oyeniyi, Odugbemi1, remains a sober and solemn professor hiding under royal plumage and an implacable farmer. He once ushered yours sincerely into a room in the palace filled with huge yam tubers harvested from his farm in Mokore in the old Area Five. We have high hopes of the new Olubadan, Oba Rasheed Adewolu Ladoja, a sometime NADECO freedom fighter who as governor of Oyo State valiantly and vigorously resisted anti-democratic tyranny. There are many more.

      The last time one spoke with the new Soun, it was to apologize for our inability to attend his upcoming coronation which was about two weeks away then. As soon as the monarch presumptive established the identity of the caller, the conversation took on a tone of rapture and respect. I told him I got his number from his friend and classmate at Ife, Oyewole son of the last Soun and former commissioner in Oyo State. “Sir, he is sitting in the car beside me”, the new Soun responded and we all chatted excitedly for a few more minutes. About thirty years earlier in the rugged and scenic town of Oke Mesi in 1993, yours sincerely had attended Oyewole’s colourful engagement ceremony to Bike, the medical doctor daughter of late Professor Toks Durotoye. It was the last snapshot of the great medical genius, Professor Kayode Osuntokun, who was to join the Triumphant Procession about a year after. It had all gone very quickly.

     Not going very quickly was the hard, five-hour slog from the Oshogbo Junction to Ogbomosho later on Saturday afternoon through some of the most atrocious roads that ever perforated a mosaic of historic hamlets and fabled towns for which the Yoruba are justly famous. All the way from Lagos the previous day, it had been a gentle drizzle and now on Saturday, the harmless, half-hearted weeping continued, like the sulking of a miserable elf. It was not a question of cruel neglect as wayfarers on the axis would attest but of a lack of continuous maintenance. What was passable ten years earlier had become an impassable cul de sac.

      Having attended a meeting of titled chiefs on the Otun Line and having presided over the arbitration of a rancorous land dispute between two historic families, we were truly on our way. Land matters a lot in these climes. One of the warlike disputants muttered darkly that if the dispute did not end in victory it would surely end in death and heroic folklore. But all that was soon forgotten as the Yoruba countryside opened up to a glorious spectacle of heroism and hardihood. From Gbaje Hills, to Ejemu village, Odeomu, Oogi, Sekona, Ede to the outskirts of Osogbo where a bustling market has mysteriously sprung up, the local people turned up in droves to sell their farm produce and to haggle about price despite the gentle drizzle. These people are simply incredible in their resilience and unyielding optimism.

      It was from here that we made a detour to connect to Ilobu hugging the outer perimeter of Ofatedo the homestead of the Offa people after the crazed and sadistic Ilorin warlord, Balogun Karara, decapitated their chiefs. From Ilobu, it took some rough tackles from the road to get to the historic town of Oko. It was from here that the famed and tempestuous warlord, Balogun Kurunmi, erupted fighting and feuding his way to the ancient Egba town of Ijaye which he converted to an autocratic fiefdom before meeting his Waterloo in the hands of the Ibadan army in 1865. From Ilobu through the ever surging and commerce-minded town of Ejigbo, the ancient metropolis of Ogbomosho opened up in its sprawling and ungainly majesty.

       All the way it was the same story of industrious and hardworking local people of this part of the country permanently on the go and indifferent to adversity while scraping together a living. If only we could understand and appreciate what a great natural work-force this heaving mass of people can constitute when properly tooled. It has been quite a run on the beautiful interior of old empire. May the reign of Soun Afolabi Oladunni OLaoye, Orumogege 111 be long, prosperous and scandal free.     

  • A Wreath for Solomon Arase

    A Wreath for Solomon Arase

    The columnist mourns the passing of one of the finest human beings ever to don the uniform of the Nigerian Police Force in its uppermost crust. It was a uniform that sat very well on his tall, gangling and deceptively languid frame. Solomon Arase was an intellectual in uniform, a rare distinction in a workforce notorious for the menacing and minatory bearing of its top cadres. Calm, unflappable and superbly cultured, he was an officer and gentleman in the most sublime sense of the phrase. If ever the title, Inspector General was designed for a particular officer, it was for him: combining the native wiles and guile of the guardroom police inspector with the massive intelligence and cerebral armament of a modern military general.

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      Such was Arase’s meticulous brilliance, painstaking attention to details and fair-mindedness that he was in high demand even as he rose through the ranks. His superiors spotted his humility, his sense of loyalty, his professional diligence and capacity to deliver such that they earmarked him for high duty as he slogged his way up. He wore no airs apart from his extant rank and was therefore able to put them at ease. As attested to by one of his former bosses, he was probably the only police officer in recent times who had served as Principal Staff Officer to three consecutive Inspector-Generals before subsequently acceding to the exalted position himself.

      His sense of personal loyalty knew no bounds and did not recognize any professional or political danger lurking in the background. This is how you recognize foul-weather friends, colleagues and subordinates alike. The last time we met was a few years back at the wedding of the daughter of his former boss, Tafa Adeoye, to the son of a friend. He was his smiling, polite and ever courteous self as he rose for a warm embrace. Now, he has gone to meet his maker after meritorious services to country and people. May his soul rest in peace. 

  • Baba Lekki meets his match

    Baba Lekki meets his match

    To the elegantly appointed and classy Cleopatra Hotel on the outskirts of Igando for the first convention of the new political outfit calling itself Women Imperative for State Power in Nigeria (WISPN). It is a radical organization demanding the immediate surrender of state power to women in the country based on what it called staggering and overwhelming evidence of male political menopause and declining moral and ethical capacity to hold a nation in dire distress together.

      Sounds very much like the revolutionary rhetoric of a celebrated Marxist hell raiser recently forcibly retired from a top university on the grounds of senility and age discrepancies. He was seventy nine when he claimed to be sixty nine.  Poker-faced, the aging Stalinist told his interlocutors that all he could remember was that he was born on a market day several moons ago and that was all there is to that. He who seeks to prove must first disprove, or has Obasanjo told your fathers his real age, the old class warrior demanded from his tormentors as he munched on roasted corn and palm kernel.

      The mystery of it all this cool drizzling money was how the ragtag organization was able to put such an impressive show together. The list of attendees was equally impressive. So was the troupe of ushers. The second mystery was the paucity of women in attendance, apart from a sprinkling   of tomboys and toy-girls. The real women of substance and substantiality shunned the gathering. But there was the old rogue and contrarian, Lambert Adesokan, aka Baba Lekki, haranguing and hectoring the crowd even as he extolled the virtues of great Nigerian heroines from antiquity to the current epoch until he was rudely interrupted by a cynical thug from Amukoko.

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        “Baba, all dat na igan mushe as dem Fela go say. You wan tell me say you never sabi woman who dey steal gobment money like dem Oyenusi man before? “the man chortled. Sensing that his platform of logic and fact was about to collapse, the old rogue maintained a stern, impassive face.

      “Not to the best of my knowledge”, the old man replied without much conviction as he scratched his head leering at the exit door.

       “ Liar!!! Baba Olosi!! Onijekuje!”, a mountainous , heavy duty woman screamed from the back of the hall and began heading menacingly towards the platform and the old crook. Amidst the pandemonium, the stage shook and then collapsed but the old man had vanished.

  • Autarky and the Postcolonial Condition

    Autarky and the Postcolonial Condition

    Some significant convergences make these ruminations inevitable. First was the spirited reaction of some of our readers to the piece published last week about the seventieth anniversary of the Bandung Conference. Second is the current economic condition of the country and President Tinubu’s ongoing international efforts to expand the frontiers of trade, international cooperation and socio-cultural possibility for the nation, which shows that either intuitively , ideologically, programmatically or pragmatically, he may be pursuing a policy of spirited non-alignment for the nation.

     Third is the swift imposition of a fifteen percent tariff on Nigeria by President Trump over the apparent refusal of the West African giant to be “contained” by geopolitical and ideological iron jackets. Canoodling with a “rogue” militantly leftwing country like Brazil has its implications and is a source of extreme irritation to America’s resurgent, authoritarian rightwing. Finally, there is the stirring advocacy this past week at the annual Nigerian Bar Association conference by Julius Malema, the South African opposition leader, for a pan-African union of nations with a unified military command and a unified currency to confront the existential threat collectively facing the Black race and its atomized and fragmented nations.

      It is important to disentangle the key terms. Autarky is the imposition of extreme self-isolation or self-closure by a nation for the optimization and maximization of its economic, productive and entrepreneurial possibilities. The country generates its own markets, produces its own stuff and consumes what it produces. The postcolonial condition is the actual and lived circumstances of colonized nations after the cessation of physical colonization. What is far more intriguing is not whether autarky is possible or feasible in a world of extreme globalization marked by the penetration and interpenetration of diverse societies by rampaging forces of universalization but the countervailing contradictions spawned by the two opposing forces. Arguably, the most famous expression of autarky in the modern era was when Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru defiantly declared that if Indians could not feed themselves, they should starve and if they could not produce their own indigenous automobile they should trek. Indians took the cue and set to work.

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        Before then, America’s policy of “splendid self-isolation” for most of the nineteenth century allowed the behemoth to generate an industrial and technological momentum the like of which had never been seen before. But then America is a continent-nation which, unlike its European forbears, did not need to colonize any nation for its raw materials or its market. Even then, when America was ready for the world, it sent Commodore Matthew C. Perry and his submarine fleet to Japan and ordered the ancient Tokugawa shogunate to open its market to the world. It was a humiliation which was only partially avenged by the destruction of the American naval base decades later at Pearl Harbour with perilous consequences for Japan.

      The most successful example of autarky in modern times is the Chinese model. After its successful revolution in 1949 and faced with relentless western hostility, the Chinese leadership closed off the country, relying on the Spartan discipline of its cadre steeled by the epic march and the hardihood and thrift of the average Chinese peasant. It was not until China was ready to meet the world on its own terms that the draconian self-blockade eased. Four things to note.  Like America, China itself is a semi-continental mammoth which could generate a lot of internal resources. Second, China is an ancient entity which has existed continuously in the same corner of the globe for over five thousand years and therefore had no feeling of inferiority to an emergent civilization however temporarily advantaged. Third, it has a subsisting existential and ontological philosophy which has shaped and guided its people for epochs. Finally, it gave America something to think about when it sent its “human waves” after the invading Americans in Korea barely four years after its revolution steamrolling them back to starting point. 

      A friend of the columnist, a professor and former senator of the Federal Republic, rhapsodizing about America’s capacity for endless innovation and relentless re-imagining, puts it down to measured self-isolation. He goes on to give China the same kudos and bears quoting at length:

    America’s isolationism enabled self-strengthening and development until its cocooning pupa yielded an imago whose wings enable(d) travelling far and wide into unoccupied and occupied territories. For crying out loud, America’s wings reached the moon! China, in its own cocoon, was much despised! In 1984, at the opening of the Los Angeles Olympics, Peter Jennings remarked that the city of Los Angeles had more cars than the entirety of China which comprised a quarter of the human population! Four decades later, it is now very obvious, in retrospect, that what matters for any country is not the number of cars but the (silent) gestation of a robust future…..

      A younger intellectual and professor at the University of Lagos countermanded vigorously, wondering whether the Bandung confreres did not strategically undermine their own potency by punching above their weight ab initio.  “Would their erstwhile colonial masters sit idly by and watch them punch above their weight? Being masters of cunning and criminality themselves, western leaders in particular had installed puppets where they could and completely eradicated antecedent conditions for people-oriented patriotic leadership classes in countries they couldn’t “control directly”.

    Echoes of Mohammed Mosaddegh, Iran’s pre-Islamic revolution prime minister, who was brought down in 1953 in a social upheaval after attempting to nationalize his country’s oil industry which at that point in time was considered a vital artery by the American military/industrial complex? It struck the fear of the Lord into many developing countries. Almost two decades after while campaigning for Nigeria’s presidency, Chief Obafemi Awolowo famously retorted that he did not wish to become Nigeria’s Mosaddegh when he was asked if he intended to nationalize Nigeria’s oil industry if he were to be elected president.

       These countervailing positions provide rich historical nuggets for resolving the autarky conundrum and its postcolonial realities and manifestations. First as we have seen with the example of America, China, and India perhaps, size matters for any country embarking on a project of autarky or self-closure either in its limited, modified or full manifestation. Second, and as we have seen with the examples of America, China, North Korea and Vietnam, a degree of military self-projection is mandatory for any country embarking on a journey of economic self-determination in a world of hostile interlocutors. Third, and as we have seen with these countries, any country embarking on autarky must also have considerable homogeneity either natural or externally imposed by a visionary elite bent on shaping the economic destiny of the nation at any cost. Finally, there must be a considerable degree of elite unanimity and critical consensus for any project of economic self-determination to take off.

        Unfortunately for postcolonial Africa, all the preconditions highlighted above are marked by their glaring absence rather than presence on the continent. The postcolonial condition is a distressing psychological state indeed, full of economic traumas and disconcerting political polarizations. Only one or two nations in Africa can be said to boast of full homogeneity and in at least one of them clannish disorder is the order. The African postcolonial reality is of a continent brimming with atomistic societies contained in atomized nation-states surging with mutually unintelligible nationalities in different and countervailing state of economic, cultural and spiritual productions. There is no unified purpose in most of these countries and no unifying elite. Most of the national armies cannot withstand the rigours of modern engagement which makes the nations very weak internally and vulnerable to external destabilization.

        This is what makes Julius Malema’s panacea dead on arrival. As it is, it is a brilliant prognosis of the postcolonial condition which harks back to the days of Nkrumah’s heady pan-Africanism and Nasser’s imperial pan-Arabian union. No contemporary African ruler would willingly negotiate the sovereignty of his country away and be willing to return home. No mighty imperial African army or international order to enforce compliance. And it is also a question of inherited colonial cultures which makes it very difficult for “independent” African nations to act with independent concert. For example, between the old Dutch degeneracy which threw up apartheid South Africa and the ancient Kongo kingdom with nucleus around present day Angola, there are four different types of colonial rationalizations, namely Dutch, Portuguese, French and Belgian—with the various indigenous people maintaining absolute fidelity to the inherited cultures of their former masters. When you add to these the inherited British, Spanish and German cultures elsewhere on the continent, it is a postcolonial Babel indeed.

      Autarky is virtually incompatible with the postcolonial condition in Africa, particularly in a multi-national behemoth like Nigeria seething with ethnic tensions and mutual misperception. The greatest ally of autarchic growth and development was the instance of precoloniality which allowed the various African precolonial societies a degree of organic coherence and cohesion before they were conquered and parceled into the rubric of different multi-ethnic nations with some nationalities finding themselves stranded in different colonial nations under different colonial cultures. But we cannot continue to cry over spilled milk forever.

    When one path to development and growth is blocked off, another is inadvertently opened. This is where human ingenuity and creative exertions often turn historical disadvantages into advantages. In many African multi-ethnic nations, particularly in Nigeria and its continental Babel, the postcolonial condition which is the greatest foe of autarky with its lack of organic coherence and cohesion, its squabbling and dissolute elite formation and absence of homogeneity, has opened up hitherto unimaginable riches in music, literature, sports, films, fashion and culinary culture which if carefully exploited and husbanded will put Nigeria and Africa in the frontline of nations and continents in due course. It is akin to the case of the man who is putting on a ring of adornment while his hand is being severed.

    By courting international limelight for his country and showcasing its rich endowments and natural wealth before a global audience, President Tinubu’s hunch is in the right place. It may not be a perfect choreography for now, for example the international waters are full of sharks ready to devour any heedless nation at short notice. The president will need to watch his back as he negotiates the dangerous currents. Current efforts also appear too freewheeling and haphazard and could benefit from a more powerfully integrative and holistic framework. But if we keep going at it and stay the course, the efforts are likely to be finessed by equally focused and determined future governments. We did not get here overnight and are not likely to get out in a jiffy.

  • Federalism Revisited

    Federalism Revisited

    (A sneak preview)

    And while we are still talking about the best economic philosophy  and policy for a multi-ethnic and multi-religious nation like Nigeria, it is meet to report on a most intriguing and pleasant development on the political front. The debate about federalism and its most suitable form for Nigeria is not about to go away. All those who believe that the debate has died a natural death or has repaired to strategic abeyance with the advent of a South-west presidency are in for a rude shock. In fact, they are wrong, dead wrong as The Nigerian Tribune would put things in another context. The cynical view abroad is that all is quiet on the Western—and federalism—front because the Yoruba people have got what they want: The Nigerian presidency.  Nothing can be farther from the truth.

      The intellectual progenitor of the debate, or what is known as the ur-text, was written about eighty years ago in 1945 when the youthful but intellectually endowed Obafemi Awolowo completed the manuscript of his path-breaking book, The Path to Nigerian Freedom, which was published in 1947.  Ever since, it has remained the locus classicus and guiding light of the debate. Just as governance in Nigeria itself has undergone several political experimentations in the intervening eighty years, the debate on federalism has also undergone several mutations, modifications and emendations. It is however in the Fourth Republic with its military-ordained constitution and particularly in the last twenty years that the debate has assumed a frantic and frenzied urgency with several stakeholders, scholars, dedicated groups and interventionist conferences wading into the matter.

    This column has just stumbled on a collection of essays written on the topic which is bound to rekindle interest in the matter and ignite intellectual passion on the vexed issue of federalism in Nigeria when it leaves the press. Put together by Professor Segun Gbadegesin, a leading Nigerian academic philosopher and foremost theorist of politics and traditional governance, it is essentially a compilation of articles in his column for The Nation newspaper written between 2006 and 2020 when he finally signed off. Titled, Envisioning The Nation, the advantage of reading these important ruminations in book form is that it allows one to follow Gbadegesin’s arguments in their scholarly elaborations, clarifications and amplifications as they shade federalism in Nigeria and its discontents. The result is a master class of elucidation and expository writing which confirms the author’s reputation as one of Nigeria’s leading thinkers.

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      A combination of a traditional griot and scholar-savant,  Gbadegesin writes without affectation and with a deceptive flair and simplicity of expression which makes his occasionally weighty pronouncements and candid bombshells quite some music to the ear, in the best tradition of his philosophical forebears. Even when he is being critical, his objections are couched in diplomatic rectitude and judicious restraint. As it should be expected of a notable professor of political philosophy, his knowledge of his subject-matter is awesome and he could range from the transformations of the Swiss cantons from the sixteenth century to full citizenship in the nineteenth century to the pitfalls of American constitution making and the perpetual plea for a more perfect union.

     Perhaps the greatest gem and revelation of this compilation of essays is the foreword by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu which was written when he had already assumed office as the president of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. This forthright intervention etched in sober statesmanship showcases Tinubu’s forte as a master strategist acutely aware of the nuances and intricacies of the federalist debate in all its contending and countervailing necessities, a practical requirement for the presidency of a nation held hostage by a fractious and polarizing political elite.

    Strenuously anxious not to be seen as partisan, Tinubu makes the crucial and critical distinction between the political activist who must see things the way he feels they ought to be and the pragmatic politician who must deal with the realities as they are. He advocates the spirit of give and take which has allowed some progress to be made in the federalist conundrum and cautions against the debate degenerating into abuse and name calling which can only harden positions and make negotiations impossible when matters eventually get to the bargaining table. Not a few of his activist comrades and former trench-mates will retort that their intellectual firepower also has its uses. But it is still morning on creation day. This book is recommended reading for all those interested in the future of Nigeria.