By Abdul Kareem Adeoye
Nigeria’s former military ruler, and the lead act behind the country’s derailed democratic process in 1993, General (Rtd) Ibrahim Babangida, recently presented his published memoir, titled “A Journey in Service”, before an audience of top political figures, leaders of thought, and captains of industry in the country’s capital, Abuja.
The book, which many describe as an exposé of events that had previously been the subject of conflicting opinions, seem to have revived serious debates on its analysis of three important historical events of national importance, albeit from the author’s perspectives.
The author made revelations that answered some questions concerning events that led to the annulment of the country’s popular presidential elections of 1993, provided his reasons for the execution of a popular General many believe was wrongly accused of complicity in a coup plot in 1985, and offered personal perspectives on Nigeria’s first military coup d’état in January 1966.
His narrative has come under intense scrutiny and criticism for what many describe as a catharsis with evident limitations in historical clarity and accuracy. Hard to swallow for many is how the book attempts to rebrand the former Head of State as some kind of hero by the political establishment and how someone considered by many to be an uncompromising dictator who truncated a peaceful transition to democracy and deprived a duly elected leader, businessman Chief Moshood Abiola, of his rightful office has stylishly absolved himself of this monumental responsibility.
The work appears a smart and careful “döstädning”, or death cleaning; an attempt at decluttering one’s house before they die to reduce the stress on relatives.
In his attempt to exonerate himself from the annulment of the 1993 presidential elections, which eventually led to nation-wide protests that saw the return of the military to power, Babangida paints his friend, military colleague and late military dictator, Sani Abacha, as a schemer, alleging he “attempted to violently remove me from power through a coup” by spreading a narrative that I was “the problem.”
Not many would argue with the author’s description of Abacha. However, what raises questions is the cunning attempt to remove himself completely from the cast that executed the annulment script on June 12, and rather claiming a subliminal sense of responsibility. This obvious selective amnesia is what has rankled many who have voiced their shock at how easily he skips the part where he made a national broadcast announcing the annulment himself on July 1993.
As one commentator reminds him, he had once praised the same Abacha for protecting him during a bloody coup, led by some junior officers in 1990 when his life “hung in the balance.” As he rewrites the events of that fateful period in the country’s history, the General appears to suggest that he was a victim cornered by a ruthless clique within his cabinet insistent on stirring the ship of state without the ‘captain’s orders’.
Many remember Babangida’s annulment of what has been described as Nigeria’s fairest election, sparking unrest, and the Interim Government he set up under businessman, Ernest Shonekan, which collapsed in three months. While the events definitely corroborate the General’s position that there were forces within the military, obviously backed by Abacha, that did not want the transition to civil rule at the time, and the claims that he was surrounded by “nefarious inside forces opposed to the elections”, it is believed that he actively worked with these forces to truncate the democratic process, even if he was careful not to upset a delicate balance in his military cabinet.
In spite of these insightful snippets it is not easy to accept the General’s narrative of another event that shaped perceptions of his intent as a military leader, and that is the alleged coup d’état of 1985 that led to the arrest and eventual execution of his close friend, colleague and best man at his wedding, the poet and writer, General Mamman Vatsa.
In the early hours of December 17th, 1985 and extending for the next two weeks, over one hundred air force, army and naval officers were arrested enmasse for allegedly plotting to overthrow Babangida’s four-month old government, which had itself come to power on August 27, 1985 in a palace coup against Major General Buhari.
Babangida claims that Vatsa’s execution, while a torturous moment for which he has had to struggle with emotionally for years, was necessary as a result of incontrovertible evidence that he (Vatsa) was actively involved in the coup plot.
The General may have been the only one privy to the evidence he claims, as the trial of Vatsa, which had been reported on extensively by the Nigerian media showed, if anything, a deep-seated conspiracy against the accused officers.
What many remember is the sloppy job done by military intelligence, searching Vatsa’s house and finding no single proof linking him to the coup conspiracy, and eventually tying him to the plot through a frivolous claim that a 10,000 Naira loan he had offered to one of the suspects to set up a farm was fund intended for the coup.
Many remember how Vatsa’s wife, and a number of Nigeria’s top literary icons, including Nobel laureate, Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe and other writers pleaded for Vatsa’s life, and how Babangida told them that he had heard and still had the man executed secretly, refusing to even release his body to the family. Who executes someone over a conspiracy to commit treason and not for the act of treason itself?
The trial revealed that at no point in time did Vatsa actually meet with or discuss coup plotting or financing with anyone-else. Indeed, other than the actual ringleader, Colonel Musa Bitiyong, who had a close relationship with the General, the other alleged key conspirators never viewed themselves as working for or on behalf of Vatsa, so it was unusual that the tribunal had gone on to order the execution of a man on whom no link to the plot was established.
Babangida, in his narrative, was clearly bobbing and weaving to avoid direct strikes against his obvious leadership flaws and monumental mistakes.
Even more controversial is his assessment of Nigeria’s first military coup of January 15, 1966 and its ethnic implications. Babangida makes a claim that many say was well calculated to play down ethnic tensions and present himself as a balanced observer of events that shaped the country’s political trajectory significantly.
To back his claims that the coup was not initially driven by a desire for ethnic dominance, he writes that one of the key actors in the putsch, “Major Kaduna Nzeogwu, was only Igbo in name….and was as ‘Hausa’ as any. He and his original team probably thought, even naively, that they could turn things around for better in the country.”
He admits, however, that the coup ended as a purely “tribalistic” coup, following Nzeogwu’s mistakes in the north, referring to the cold-blooded murder of the northern Premier, and a revered northern scion, Sir Ahmadu Bello, and his wife, Hafsatu, noting that the “putsch” was infiltrated by outsiders and took on an unmistakably ethnic colouration.
The General’s narrative clearly undermines the impact of some key facts that have been pointed out by historians and those directly involved, such as the fact that 85% of the commissioned officers and 95% ratings involved in the putsch were of Igbo ethnic stock; the fact that no single politician from the Igbo dominated Eastern region was killed, even as some of them had been fingered as significant players within the corrupt political cabal that the officers had vowed to get rid of; and the fact that one of the most vicious executioners of the coup, Emmanuel Ifeajuna, had voiced strong ethnic sentiments.
Babangida’s assumptions that the coup could not have been ethnically driven, simply because Nzeogwu spoke Hausa fluently and lived in the North, is quite naive.
This assertion would also presume that Ojukwu, also born in the North and spoke Hausa fluently, would have never taken up the position as Governor of Eastern region, as he schooled in Lagos and England before joining the military, and never lived in the East. Yet, History remembers him as the lead proponent of the Biafra war.
It would also be assumed, by Babangida’s logic, that Nigeria’s first president of Igbo stock, Nnamdi Azikiwe, who was born in the North, spoke Hausa fluently, and had to be sent to the east so he could learn the Igbo language, would not have built an ethnic advocacy group called Igbo Federal Union, or declared that his people were created by God as a special race to lead Africans. He, just to point out, was curiously absent from the country just before the coup happened.
At the risk of provoking further ethnic tensions, it is hard to explain that a coup carried out by overwhelmingly Igbo officers, and of which the intended victims were entirely non-Igbos, and which supplanted a Northern minority leader (Tafawa-Balewa), with an Igbo leader (Aguiyi-Ironsi) had no ethnic colouration.
On this topic of Nigeria’s first coup d’état, Babangida would not be the most reliable source for the facts as he was neither a key player in the plot or events leading to the plot, nor was he an officer of significant importance in military or national politics at the time to have known far more than the average Nigerian whose opinions were shaped by popular commentaries.
Babangida did not know about the coup, neither did he participate. He left for UK barely days after the 1966 coup. As he says on page 40 of the book, “my position here may be the naive insights of an “unsuspecting young officer who viewed events from a distance.”
As he makes clear, Babangida does not attempt to rewrite history about the coup, and he would do well not to.
