Nigeria Content Online

Last
Saturday the world marked the ninth anniversary of the September 11
attacks that brought down the twin towers of the World Trade Centre.

The events of that fateful day set off a chain of
events that have irrevocably altered the world, as we know it. From
increased security at airports to the invasions of Iraq and
Afghanistan, 9/11 has stamped itself on the face of the world.

It is hugely disturbing that during the week
leading up to the anniversary of 911, there was a resurgence of the
Boko Haram sect in Bauchi State. More than a year after a series of
deadly attacks that caught law enforcement agents by surprise and
resulted in the destruction of police stations and government
buildings, and in hundreds of fatalities, Nigeria was again caught
napping.

It would be impossible to remember 9/11 without
thinking of Jos, a city that has since exchanged its legendary serenity
for the din of bloodthirsty gangs.

And then there is what is arguably the most
far-reaching (in terms of Nigeria’s international reputation) attempt
of all – the alleged plot, last December, by Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab
to blow up an American airliner in American airspace. That attempt
instantly earned Nigeria a place – mercifully short-lived – on an
American terror listing.

Against this backdrop of religious crises the
question that looms largest is the one to do with the state of
preparedness of Nigeria’s security and intelligence agencies. Judging
from how we have faced up to the age-old challenge of armed robbery and
the more recent one of kidnapping, the immediate conclusion is that
against the schemes of determined terrorists, Nigeria is a glaringly
helpless country.

Nigeria’s intelligence agencies appear to be far
more adept at clamping down on genuinely frustrated citizens than on
actual threats to national security. During the military era, the (now
defunct) National Security Organisation (NSO), the Directorate of
Military Intelligence and State Security Service made a name for
themselves terrorising journalists and activists, suppressing the
clamour for democracy and justice,

and nipping coup plots in the bud.

It is not clear if the country’s intelligence
agencies have properly adjusted to this democratic dispensation. The
SSS appears to have been reduced to carrying out perfunctory screenings
of nominees for senior government offices. The Federal Investigation
and Intelligence Bureau (FIIB) remains a part of a hopelessly
inefficient police force. The National Intelligence Agency (NIA)
doesn’t even have a website.

Under the watch of these agencies Jos and Bauchi
have burned again and again, and kidnappings have become a national
industry, with no high-profile arrests made and no concerted clampdown
on the perpetrators. What chance then do these so-called intelligence
agencies have of succeeding in the fight against terrorism?

The threat of terrorism is very real in Nigeria.
There is nothing to stop Nigeria’s teeming numbers of unemployed and
frustrated youth from being indoctrinated by extremist religious
groups. If that happens terrorism could very easily become the ‘new’
kidnapping.

In February Reuters reported that an Al-Qaeda cell
based in North Africa had offered, on its website, to provide arms and
personnel to Nigerian Muslims “to enable you to defend our people in
Nigeria.” Only last July Kampala,

the Ugandan capital, was rocked by a series of terrorist explosions that left no less than 60 persons dead.

In the face of these threats Nigeria requires an
efficient network of intelligence agencies. The decisive American
response to 9/11 is instructive. In the wake of the attacks, the United
States Government immediately created the Department of Homeland
Security (DHS) at cabinet level to ensure the protection of the United
States from terrorist attacks. In the years since then the mandate of
the DHS has expanded to include coordinating the response to natural
disasters. While we have concerns about some of the tactics and
measures employed by the DHS in its quest to secure America, there is
no doubt that the wide-ranging bureaucratic reorganisation that
produced it is a sign of a country genuinely concerned about the
security of lives and property within its borders.

We should learn to be proactive in the quest to
maintain national security, instead of resorting to setting up
unproductive panels of enquiry after every security breach. The
appointment or replacement of the National Security Adviser (NSA) – who
should oversee the country’s combined intelligence efforts – should not
be reduced to an act of political expediency. There is far too much at
stake. If it is true that the current NSA (Mohammed Gusau) is
interested in contesting in the 2011 presidential elections, then he
should resign immediately. The responsibility of that office is a
full-time one.

We urge President Jonathan to go a step further
and initiate a radical reorganisation of all the intelligence agencies.
It is not enough to replace the bosses, as he did last week with the
State Security Service.

Nigerians can remember a time, not too long ago, when kidnappings
were not the order of the day. If care is not taken we will soon be
recalling a time when terror attacks were a rarity in the land.

Some of the richest
Americans got together last month. The gathering was not a shindig to
celebrate their stupendous wealth nor was it a meeting to share tips on
stocks and investment. It was to announce a drive called the ‘Giving
Pledge’.

Initiated by
Microsoft guru, Bill Gates and Investment Legend, Warren Buffet, the
group in a statement released to the press said the aim of the pledge,
“ is to convince billionaires across the country to give up most of
their money – 50 percent or more – to charity.’’ The statement went
further to say, ‘‘ it is about asking wealthy families to have
important conversations about their wealth and how it will be used.’’
Already 40 American billionaires have committed to the ‘Giving Pledge’.
They include CNN founder Ted Turner, New York Mayor, Michael Bloomberg,
Hollywood Director, George Lucas, Oracle Founder, Larry Ellison and of
course Gates and Buffet. These moneybags will continue to speak to many
other billionaires as they hope to convince more to make the commitment.

Not surprisingly,
in America, the pledge has elicited mixed reactions. Some have
commended it and see it as indication that the American dream and what
one commentator described as ‘American exceptionalism’ are alive and
well and say the billionaires do America proud. Among conservatives,
the pledge has been described as a bleeding heart liberalist action
that is sure to not only encourage dependence but promote giving to
none productive sectors of the society. One commentator was even
uncharitable enough to suggest that these people are looking for
‘redemption’. Others were of the opinion that these billionaires would
better serve humanity if they kept investing their money in their
businesses and continue to provide jobs and help the economy grow.

If only we had the opportunity for these sorts of discussions in this country.

Here, our
moneybags, many of whom can hardly be described as ‘self made’ unlike
their American counterparts, would rather their money be safely locked
away in vaults in foreign banks. Never mind that much of their wealth
has been possible because they have received licenses, concessions and
all sorts of advantages from government, they are not much interested
in ploughing back into society.

Even getting them
to pay taxes is a neigh impossible feat. Ask Ifueko Omoigui Okauru,
head of the Federal Revenue Inland Service, the battles she faces
trying to get our wealthiest to pay what is a statutory obligation.

They don’t care
that taxes should be used to provide basic infrastructure. They build
mansions worth billions of dollars in glorified slums. Every so often,
they are able to take off on their jets to enjoy their other homes
situated in societies that actually function. This deludes them into
believing their lives are alright.

It is as if they
don’t realise that until and unless their societies are functional,
their worth does not amount to much in the eyes of the world.

It is a truism in
our personal life, that until we learn to like and respect ourselves,
it is unlikely that others will like and respect us.

It is a truism our
billionaires will do well to understand. Until and unless they can love
their country enough to work towards making it functional, they will
continue to be billionaires from a place no one likes and respects.
Whether they recognise it or not, it affects their standing everywhere
they go.

Some of our rich
people will argue this assessment is unfair. They will point to a
classroom block here and there that they built, the few millions given
to an orphanage or to sponsor a hospital ward. However, this is not
giving on a scale likely to transform society.

The irony of the
pledge by the American billionaires is that they have not limited their
giving to only their society. Many causes across the world will benefit
from their generosity. Indeed, already someone like Gates is having a
huge impact on lives through his foundation which is helping to tackle
life threatening diseases like AIDS and Malaria not just here in
Nigeria but all over the world.

So a few questions
to the Adenugas, Dangotes, Otedolas, Babalakins, Odogwus, Dantatas,
Ojukwus, Ibrus and all the rich in this country. How will history
remember you? Will you be remembered for your jets and mansions and
your ability to live blissfully in the midst of want and squalor or
will it be for making fundamental contributions that transformed your
society?

Several years ago
when I was living in Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire, an artist friend once took
me to the home of a rather remarkable personage. Located in the
outskirts of the city, we were ushered past a gate that opened up into
a forested sprawling compound. On the veranda sat an old man in the
company of his wife and frolicking grandchildren.

The man looked
rather frail, but his face shone with a noble serenity that comes only
with wisdom and knowledge mixed with a pure heart.

We were welcomed as
though we were princes. Refreshments were laid at table before us. The
wife was all over me, wanting to know more about me, Nigeria, my work
and family. She told me, “‘mon mari est un profésseur”.

It turned to have
been one of the great understatements of the century. The man in
question was none other than the distinguished Ivoirian philosopher,
sociologist, statesman and sage, Professor Georges Niangoran-Bouah.

Born circa 1928 and
orphaned at an early age, he surmounted every odd to become a man of
learning and great accomplishment. Having graduated with a doctorat
d’Etat at the prestigious Parisian Institut Pratiques des Hautes
Etudes, Niangoran-Bouah pursued a distinguished career in academia in
France and in his own native Côte d’Ivoire.

But the man’s claim
to fame are not his chain of academic qualifications or even the senior
cabinet positions he held in government. Rather, it was in his
originality of thought.

Niangoran-Bouah
stands, in my view, in the same rank as W. E.B. Dubois, Chancellor
Williams, John Henrik Clarke, Joseph Ki-Zerbo and Cheickh Anta Diop who
have done so much to shape our understanding of Africa’s place in the
great heritage of universal civilisation. His contributions have been
mainly in the field of ethno-sociology, in particular, Akan gold
weights and in a new field which he singlehandedly invented,
‘drumology’.

In a path-breaking
study of traditional Akan gold weights, Niangoran-Bouah was able to
prove conclusively that these objects were no mere ornamental
decorations as had been generally supposed, but that they contained
forms of secret knowledge dating as far back as ancient Numidia. He
believed there is a treasure trove of secret knowledge that lies buried
in our ancient ornaments and artefacts. Such hidden knowledge was not
meant for the masses but to those initiates who can use it and preserve
it for generations yet unborn.

The other field in
which Niangoran-Bouah has made significant contributions has been in
the area of drumology, i.e. the study of African drums as a system of
communication. Again Niangoran-Bouah was able to prove that drums in
traditional Africa were not merely instruments for music and
entertainment; rather, they served the higher purpose of communication
to which only the discerning were privy.

It was my honour to
have met this great African sage. I learned from him that the pursuit
of science as a vocation also requires an openness to the strange and
the mysterious. He taught me that we Africans have a great heritage and
must never see ourselves as the inferiors of anyone. In fact, he
believed our ancestors had a sphere of gnosis that was way beyond what
was fathomable to the ancient Greeks and Romans.

He told me that in
the forest of his native Grand Bassam, he could make a particular sound
and the bird of his desire would appear. He insists this is not magic
but a form of science that our ancestors have known since time
immemorial. He was not bluffing. An endless stream of European and
American researchers and scholars were beating a path to drink from the
reservoir of this ancient Akan wisdom.

As we conversed
into the wee hours, I could see that he felt bitterly disappointed at
the turn of events on our continent, much of which external meddling by
world powers — war in Sierra Leone and Liberia, the crisis in Côte
d’Ivoire and the descent into barbarism in Rwanda, Somalia and the
Congo. He looked upon me with deep compassion as though from a distant
height. For the first time in my life, I felt the summons of fate, the
call to higher duty in the service of my continent and my people.

This year marks the
golden jubilee of over a dozen African countries, from Senegal to
Benin, Cameroon, Gabon and our own country Nigeria. For most of our
countries, the celebrations have of necessity to be rather sombre
affairs. The sobering reality is that there is more to lament about
than to celebrate. From the feet of this master, I learned that
Africa’s crisis is not just a social and economic one. Rather, it is a
profoundly spiritual crisis borne of moral distemper and derailment of
our most sacred values. Our continent needs more Niangoran-Bouahs who
embody the honour, dignity and spirituality of our ancient African
people and who can give us guidance in these benighted times.

Niangoran-Bouah went to join the ancestors on the 26th of March 2002. His work must also be ours.

I have spent the
last week reflecting on hill top palaces and misrule in my dear country
Nigeria. I could not help it; my thoughts were imposed by the
surroundings. The last week found me on the six-acre Neemrana Fort
Palace in Rajasthan, India, about 122 Kilometres from Delhi. This
palace of the Maharaja was the site from which the Chauhans dynasty
ruled Rajasthan from the 15th century to 1947. The palace of 55 rooms
is carved into eleven storeys on the hilltop.

Located in a site
of exquisite beauty, it allows occupants on the hilltop to oversee the
vast rolling countryside with tiny looking peasants tilling the land or
coming up the hill to serve the lords of the palace. Following the end
of princely rule in India in 1947, the palace was sold off as a
heritage hotel and yours faithfully could live like a Raj for one week
and participate in a conference on citizenship, democracy and
development.

The conference
signalled the end of a ten-year international partnership of the
Citizenship Development Research Centre of the Institute of Development
Studies of the University of Sussex and scholars in the United Kingdom,
India, Bangladesh, Angola, Nigeria, Brazil, Mexico, South Africa and
Jamaica.

Over the period, we
carried out 150 case studies of citizens struggling to improve their
lives, livelihoods and liberties. The conclusion of the studies is
starkly clear. Nobody gives you development; nobody gives you human
rights and democracy. You get what you struggle for. The state is not a
repository of entitlements, it’s an interlocutor you combat, cajole,
contest, infiltrate and subvert to improve your lives and livelihoods.

As we reflected on
the thought provoking results of our studies, the site compelled me to
reflect on what the accoutrements and palaces of rule does to
occupants. By the end of the week, after enjoying sumptuous meals
served by a bevy of well dressed servants in beautifully decorated
halls overlooking spectacular landscape, I began to feel like a Raj and
found it normal that the world should serve me.

I began to
understand why after eight years of misrule, General Ibrahim Babangida
believed he needed a fifty-room palace, carved out of a Minna hill top
where people would have to climb up to continue to pay him homage. Even
our dearly believed General Abdulsalam Abubakar, who ruled for only
eleven months needed to build himself a hilltop palace to keep his
distance from the people.

The latest of the
hilltop palaces is of course that of General Olusegun Obasanjo carved
out of the largest hill of Abeokuta. It is maybe befitting that this
General who has ruled and ruined our country longer than anybody else
should have the largest and most magnificent palace from which he can
continue to plot and scheme on ways and means of ruling and ruining us
forever. Clearly, these palaces fabricate illusions of grandeur that
encourage our rulers to believe that they have a right, and indeed, an
obligation to continue in power.

How else can we
understand General Babangida’s determination to return to power? Was he
not the one who introduced the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP),
which sank Nigeria into the deepest economic crises in her history?
Although during the 1985-86 national debate, Nigerian citizens had
overwhelmingly voted against SAP, was it not the same General Babangida
who said he must implement it because the International Monetary Fund
(IMF) had given him clear instructions to do so.

Nigerian citizens
fought against SAP. Workers and students and ordinary people organised
massive street demonstrations in many towns. However, the Babangida
dictatorship went ahead to implement unpopular policies, which had
negative consequences for the country and its people. SAP in practice
meant the dominant role of market forces in the economy, liberalisation
and deregulation, devaluation of the Naira, retrenchment, privatisation
of public property (that was mainly cornered by the rulers), withdrawal
of subsidies, and government retreat in the area of social provisioning
and welfare services.

The result of the
Babangida policy framework was the intensification of suffering of the
people. Our health system collapsed, rural poverty grew as peasants
could no longer afford to pay for agricultural inputs and the era of
graduate unemployment arrived at the national scene while the middle
class was pauperised.

It was under the Babangida regime that institutions of governance,
and official positions, were used for unbridled primitive accumulation.
In was an era in which governance was transformed into a question of
unlimited power without responsibility. It was above all the regime
that brazenly organised elections and refused to hand over power to the
winner of the elections. The history of General Babangida is a bold
statement that citizens do not matter. The time has come for Nigerian
citizens to make an even more bold response to those who live on
hilltop palaces and say we have memories, which we shall use to
sanction those who have ruled and ruined our dear nation.