Thirty years ago, Nigeria was in severe crisis. In the wake of the previous year’s elections that was annulled and the attendant protests, 1994 was an unpleasant time. General Sani Abacha had rigged his way into power through a coup and was setting the country on edge. Media houses had been shut, and journalists serially harassed and detained. Acclaimed winner of the 1993 presidential election, Moshood Abiola, was in prison along with scores of activists who had protested either the fuel prices inflation or the election annulment. Ken Saro-Wiwa too was in prison. The Niger-Delta region was restless due to the state-induced violence racking the region.
NADECO members were arrested and charged with treason for their audacity to challenge Abacha. Government critics had their homes raided, and some were attacked. That was the year Wole Soyinka went into exile. Decree after decree expanded the government’s power to punish. They could detain—without charge or trial—anyone suspected of subversive activities. The Senate that had been inaugurated the previous year was disbanded. Six of the lawmakers who had taken a stand against the government were arrested and charged with “treasonable felony and conspiracy.” They were initially granted bail, and five of them re-arrested months later. The sixth person? That was Bola Tinubu.
By now, I am sure you already see where I am going. As you would have read, this week the police arrested and charged 10 people who allegedly participated in the #EndBadGovernance protests last month for the same crime Abacha’s government had once arrested Tinubu: treason. Those 10 people, along with another 700 police said they also arrested, were some of the thousands who responded to the strangulating economic and political conditions the same way Tinubu and his fellow travellers did in 1994.
Tinubu is either forgetful of history or, since he once confessed that he took a major economic policy while under the influence of a “spirit,” has been fully possessed by Abacha’s ghost. It does not matter which is true; the shame is that a severe charge like treason is being trivialised by a government that cannot brook citizens towing the same path that brought him into power. I want to believe that Tinubu’s fellow pro-democracy activists, some of whom were imprisoned on frivolous charges during the dark days of Abacha’s rule, are looking at the unfolding chain of events and terrified at the uncanny repetition of history.
Wherever he is now, Abacha must be exultant. He should rejoice; he is not the only tyrant whose ignominious history would be tossed into the sewers of our national history. By the time their time passes, Tinubu and company would have personified the Orwellian pigs who became indistinguishable from the “man” they kicked out of the animal farm. When we find the mouth with which to tell the story, we will understand how we sought statesmen but were rewarded with executioners.
After reading the police’s press release issued by a fellow called Olumuyiwa Adejobi, I still fail to see how the protests are treasonable. Which “foreign sources” gave “substantial backing” to the #EndBadGovernance protesters? Or was it just that one Briton, Andrew Wynne, who constituted the so-called “foreign sources”? Given that last month, the Department of State Services also arrested about eight Polish nationals who were on an education tour in Kano State while the protests were ongoing, this might just be a case of using white Europeans to create a sensation. DSS spokesperson Peter Afunanya said those Polish nationals were arrested “because of where they were found during the protests and for displaying foreign flags.” I am yet to understand the method to the madness of this “foreign-phobia” among our security agencies.
There are several wild accusations in Adejobi’s document that need substantiating. I am not saying Adejobi plagiarised Abacha’s playbook, but the allegations are a frightful recrudescence of the military era. He says, “preliminary findings suggest they orchestrated and funded violent protests…to create anarchy and justify their illegal plot to overthrow…government.” But what is the pedigree of these individuals that they could organise what is tantamount to a coup? How would their supposed plan to overthrow the government through protests have led them to Aso Rock? Did they have an armoury, or the weapons of their supposed warfare were just placards? What were their plans to take over the National Assembly, for instance?
Adejobi also says they are investigating how these people planned to “orchestrate violence across the country”? I am genuinely curious how this bunch of individuals (including a shop attendant) can have the means to organise the violence that will disrupt the entirety of a complex country like Nigeria. Meanwhile, hear Adejobi on how they established Wynne’s guilt: We went to invade (Wynne’s) bookshop. As we asked questions, he came out. If you have a genuine business, are you not going to ask the police what we went to do in his shop or his office? You read that and you wonder at the quality of investigation that sort of rudimentary extrapolation of evidence can possibly produce. Meanwhile, let us not forget that the “comprehensive investigation” on which they planked their whole case took place in less than a month. If they are that efficient, how come they find it hard to solve kidnapping problems?
Whether they like it or not, protests are a democratic right. You can charge people who committed crimes of looting or violence during protests, but you cannot stifle the right to protest. I never thought the day would come that I would look back and compare Muhammadu Buhari’s government favourably with anyone, but looking wistfully from inside the fire of Tinubu’s government, I am beginning to think we were better off inside Buhari’s frying pan. Even in all his pathological madness, Buhari did not go to the extent of charging the #EndSARS protesters for treason. He did accuse them of trying to topple him, but the ghost of Abacha that had been haunting Aso Rock did not possess him fully. The ghost waited until the perfect person usurped his path into power before completing Abacha’s historic mission of perpetuating himself in power using democratic means.
You listen to the families of those arrested and you realise these people have no new game; they are stuck in historical time. Unfortunately, we are trapped along with them. The Nigeria of 2024 is not that different from that of 1994. There is hardship in the land. Prices of goods and services are skyrocketing; purchasing power is dwindling, and it is getting harder and harder to get by. The marriage of Asiwaju and Shettima of last year has become Àşetì 2023. Nobody’s hope has been renewed, and people are more combustible than the fuel they are expending hours on their lives on extended queues just to purchase. The days ahead are likely to be filled with protests, and the government is preemptively charging protestors with arrests to intimidate.
Meanwhile, this same government faces a million other challenges. There is economic insecurity, a serious threat to the lives and livelihood of Nigerians. Shouts of “ebi ń pa wá” have replaced the “on your mandate we shall stand” anthem in many mouths; hunger is resetting the political loyalties of those whose heads were climbed into power but have now been forgotten. The government appears confused by the complexity of the situation; they have undone several economic knots, and they know not how to re-tie them. Then there is the issue of kidnapping that has become a national epidemic and revealed the police as impotent. Let us not even talk about banditry, plus the one million problems of poor infrastructure that bedevil the country.
Rather than the Tinubu administration concentrating on what it can solve, it compounds its own problems by investing administrative time and energy hounding people for treason. Like the Yoruba door that eventually gets unhinged when endlessly swung back and forth, the Tinubu regime too has found the wàhálà that will wear it down. I almost feel sorry for them.
Punch
