That is the definition of madness? There may not be a straightforward and definitive answer. On the complexity of insanity, Chinua Achebe’s thought-provoking short story, The Madman, published in Girls at War and Other Stories (1972) provides enlightening insight. The protagonist in the narrative, Nwibe, a successful figure in an Igbo rural setting, is about to take the Ozo title, a prestigious honour in the community. Then the bizarre happens.
The tragic hero stops for a bath at the local stream on his way from the farm. A naked lunatic, who has gone to the stream for a drink of water spots Nwibe’s loincloth, gathers it, wraps it around his waist, and speeds away with it. In a mindless reaction, Nwibe pursues the mischievous crazy man right into a crowded market, and the original difference between the two men is erased as onlookers redefine the characters. Nwibe’s world comes crashing down. He is viewed as a madman, and unworthy of the revered decoration he craves.
Indeed, there is a sense in which the latest bombshell from Abubakar Shekau, leader of the Islamist group Boko Haram, re-enacts Achebe’s creative work. Suddenly, reality has become hallucinatory, and no one seems sure anymore of anything. Just when the federal government, based perhaps on self-righteous calculations, sought to make peace with the destructive desperadoes, the unbelievable happened.
Rubbishing the government’s consideration of amnesty for the group, Shekau stunned the world with a statement that not only questioned social perception of its activities, but also extended the boundaries of human judgment. According to his reasoning, in a recorded audio message in Hausa, “Surprisingly, the Nigerian government is talking about granting amnesty. What wrong have we done? On the contrary, it is we that should grant you pardon.”
To go by Shekau’s logic, it is clearly appropriate to ask in reverse, “What wrong have the Nigerian government and the Nigerian people done?” His coup de theatre perfectly demonstrates what American novelist Phillip Roth describes as “the ecstasy of sanctimony.”
Shekau’s grudge statement was certainly significant for its revelatory quality, even if it fell short of listing the group’s grievances and saying why it is the government and the people that should be considered for pardon. However, it contained an even more profound revelation about his state of mind and the psychology of the group. It is mind-boggling that the group seems convinced of its self-presumed innocence. Is this an acute case of denial, or a self-justification inspired by a warped morality? Or could he be right in his claim that the group is the wronged party, rather than the wrong, in this hell of a story? Is there an ethical confusion that makes the sect right and society wrong?
Ordinarily, Shekau’s words would have made his mental health suspect. But can we be sure of the representative of madness? Can we with certainty label him insane on the basis of his implied defence of his group’s murderous bent? Who are the mad ones, Shekau’s fundamentalist militia or those who have dignified the group by supposing that it would appreciate the civility of pardon?
It is even more perplexing that the government seems frozen on the idea of forgiving the group’s atrocities. In an equally dramatic and incredible response to Shekau’s put-down, the Presidential Adviser on Political Affairs, Ahmed Gulak, insisted on finding a way to forgive the rudely remorseless. He told the press, “The decision of the Federal Government to set up the committee to work out modalities to grant amnesty to members of the sect is on course. No pronouncement by any individual or group or an attempt to blackmail government will stop it.”
There can be no clearer indication that the government itself is, regrettably, a casualty of mindlessness. It is ridiculous to think that forgiveness can be forced on people who refuse to acknowledge their wrong, and even consider the accuser the guilty party. It is noteworthy that the Niger Delta militants who are beneficiaries of a governmental amnesty accepted that they were wrong in their belligerent approach, even though their grievances were considered reasonable. Their armed protest against alleged inequitable distribution of revenue from the oil-rich region and environmental degradation was largely selective in its targets, and focused more on abduction of oil workers for ransom and disruption of oil-producing activities, although there were a few cases of bombings that affected the civilian population.
In the case of Boko Haram, the government has an unrepentant adversary with motives that do not speak to reason. At the heart of the group’s insurgency is the dream to Islamize the country and enthrone the Sharia. It has become increasingly radicalized since 2009, and its terror tactics has resulted in a reported death toll of an estimated 10,000 victims in the northern part of the country. In its reign of terror, the group has struck against the United Nations (UN) House, military and police facilities, churches, media offices and prisons. Other targets include a beer parlour, the convoys of a state governor and a respected emir, and a motor park. The group has no compunction about taking the lives of others, men, women and children; and even sacrificing the lives of its own members through chilling suicide bombings.
Evidently, the Boko Haram army and the pardoned Niger Delta militants share a common ground in the objective to make the country ungovernable, but the logic of parallel probably ends there. The truth is that the religious fundamentalists are in a world of their own, well beyond the material and ethical considerations that prompted the warriors of the Niger Delta to have a rethink. Boko Haram does not subscribe to the morality of the secular state, and apparently has no need for silver and gold.
However, it is interesting that the Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND) recently resumed open hostilities against the government, and threatened to expand the range of its targets to include mosques, hajj camps and Muslim clerics. Although this reversal was initially premised on the trial and imprisonment of the group’s leader, Henry Okah, in South Africa on charges related to terror acts carried out by the group in Nigeria, it has obviously developed into a kind of counterpunch against Boko Haram.
If MEND carries out its threat, the consequence will be a balance of terror. It remains to be seen, though, whether such development will tame Boko Haram. It is remarkable that MEND, which was itself a beneficiary of governmental amnesty, has plans to return to the trenches against a group that is disdainful of state pardon. There is the possibility of opportunism in MEND’s posture, but it is not without a positive side in its opposition to the killer religious zealots.
In this picture, the government cannot have a redeeming image. It shows that amnesty for terror champions is perhaps too easy and too cheap, and probably lacks effectiveness as a deterrent. Counter-terrorism should seek to overpower violence, not overlook criminal brutality.
• Macaulay is on the editorial board of The Nation
