Where Are The Public Intellectuals? | By: Reuben Abati

Something sad has happened and is happening, and is getting worse in our society: the decline of public intellectualism. 
And so I ask, where are the public intellectuals? Once upon a time in this country, the public arena was dominated by a ferment of ideas, ideas that pushed boundaries, destroyed illusions, questioned orthodoxies and enabled societal progress.  Those were the days when intellectuals exerted great influence on public policy, and their input into the governance process could not be ignored. Ideas are strong elements of nation building, and even where interests are at play, you know the quality of a country by the manner in which a taste for good thinking propels the leadership process. 

       Public intellectuals are at the centre of this phenomenon: they include academics who go beyond their narrow specializations and university-based scholarship to take a keen interest in public affairs and who use their expertise and exposure to shed light on a broad range of issues. They also include journalists, writers and other professionals who question society’s direction, and offer alternative ideas. The beauty of public intellectualism is that the intellectual at work is a disinterested party, he is interested in ideas not for his own benefit, but for the overall good of society, and he does not assume that his opinions are the best or that he alone understands the best way to run society and its organs. The product of this attitude is that discourse, a culture of debate, is encouraged and in the cross-pollination of ideas, a good current of thought is created; truth is spoken to power.

       We have had glimpses of this in Nigeria, and without trying to sketch a history of public intellectualism in our country or attempt a ranking of public intellectuals, let me just say that between the 60s and the 90s, there was so much fascination with ideas in this same country, it was as if the public mind was on fire. Academics from various disciplines took a keen interest in the prospects of the new Nigeria, and they went to the public arena to project ideas. Journalists became revered as sages, so much that certain newspaper columnists almost single-handedly sold newspapers. 

      Public lectures were organized which attracted persons who were just interested in ideas. Writers did a lot more than the professional task of producing novels, poems and plays and wrote public essays. The vendor’s stand every morning attracted not just buyers and free readers, but also young Nigerians who every morning debated major topics of concern. On television also, there were debates and those in the corridors of power also took ideas seriously.  So influential were intellectuals in the public space that they soon got invited to be part of government and although the military had always opposed intellectualism, at least one government, the Babangida government had the largest collection of intellectuals in office since independence. Many who lived during that era will remember the debates over the IMF/Structural adjustment Programme. 

       As the years went by however, public intellectualism began to decline. In 2006, Jimanze Ego-Alowes published a book titled How Intellectuals Underdeveloped Nigeria and Other Essays, an allusion to the complicity of intellectuals in the crisis that had by then engulfed the country.  Four years later, Rudolf Okonkwo in an article titled  “The Comedy of Our Public Intellectuals” observed as follows:  “the world of the Nigerian public intellectual is a zoo. It is a zoo full of nihilists. Some are sectarian in their outlook and others are humorless. Some are eccentric while others are comical. But one thing they all have in common is an over-inflated ego of their importance in the scheme of things.” 

       I don’t know about over-inflated ego, but I do know that the flame of public intellectualism in Nigeria is now almost a flicker. There are extremely few new significant voices, saying anything of consequence, the soldiers of old have become old, the fire in their belly, now subdued.  It is as if our academics have lost interest in public affairs, as only a few of them maintain a column or write an occasional piece or take on public issues in the manner of the likes of Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Segun Osoba, Claude Ake, Bade Onimode, Ola Oni, Mokwugo Okoye, Mahmud Tukur, Yusuf Bala Usman, Ayodele Awojobi, Biodun Jeyifo, Femi Osofisan, Stanley Macebuh, Odia Ofeimun, Niyi Osundare, Chinweizu, Kole Omotoso, Yemi Ogunbiyi, Bode Sowande, Patrick Wilmot…The opinion pages of the newspapers are no longer vibrant. There is so much “opinionitis”, but debate is rare and rejoinders are always self-serving.
       What has happened is that politically neutral intellectuals have now become scarce; the typical intellectual of today is not public in the sense in which that word is used; he is in reality affiliated to partisan and sectional interests.  The intellectual influence in Nigeria’s affairs is thus diminished because of obsession with individual interests: academics are now at best “acadapreneurs”: the intellectual as an entrepreneur. Business and partisan interests have compromised media houses; those once vibrant platforms are no longer offering vibrant ideas. Within the cultural sphere, there is a total dumbing down. Where are the creative writers?  They are still writing, but few want to get involved in the issues of the day and offer ideas.

      The effect is that we are in the age of clichés, of jargon writing, of mundane, unimaginative commentary. Whatever appears intellectual is written off as arrogant and there is no quality debate on anything because people have resorted to making fashionable statements that suit the moment and every one is locked in their own little corner, not willing to listen to the other side of the story.  The reading public, whatever is left of it, is also not interested in ideas or anything that requires rigorous thinking. We have thus lost a critical element of public intellectualism: an audience. The people are interested in easy stuff, in fashionable opinions that align with their own partisan interests. Nobody wants to read any long commentary; there is an obsession with short thinking, and whereas brevity may be a good technique, there are certain ideas that just cannot be reduced to a tweet.  It is really sad that today, intellectualism is seen as a threat.
  
        Even when corporations and politicians in power draw intellectuals close; they end up usurping the powers of the intellectual, compelling him to hold his intelligence within the scope of the definition of his assignment. Intellectuals can be inside or outside, and there are classical cases of intellectuals in power making a difference, but that age appears ended, the disdain of intellectualism has turned politicians and corporate gurus into wise men that they are not, and the intellectual into an organic element of power. The greatest power of the intellectual lies in his freedom; when he is denied that under any circumstance, society turns off its energy source and gradually, it is the self-imposed wisdom of clowns that prevails. 

      The gap that has been created seems to have been easily filled by internet gladiators who spend the day shuffling from Instagram to Facebook to Twitter and other social media threads. These new culture activists project a democratic impression of public intellectualism – and yes, there is a sense in which everyone is an intellectual, from the village priest to the village idiot-  but I don’t see the rigour, the breadth and depth and the aesthetic alienation that can elevate this genre and its promoters to the grade of public intellectualism. For the most part, social media in Nigeria is predominantly at the level of tabloid sensationalism, and it accommodates and offers the same degree of freedom to the ignorant and the mischievous, as well as the entrepreneur and the uncouth.  There is no doubt however that its content and the quality can be raised, but that will require innovation, the intervention of thinkers and the creation of new audiences that will be interested in something more than the quick and formulaic. 

         What we have lost is not the intellectual, as there are many educated Nigerians who are experts in their narrow fields, what we have lost is active intelligence as a tool for social progress. The rub is in the intelligence part of being intellectual. Being intellectual is about living a life of ideas and using those ideas to engage society intelligently in a committed manner. 
       In addition to other reasons, it may well be that our intellectuals are tired of engaging Nigeria.  Having tried over the years to engage the governance elite with ideas and to show that only good ideas should govern society and having been spurned by the politicians, Nigeria’s intellectual elite seems to have become so frustrated, it has retired largely into a state of indifference and inertia. What is the point knocking one’s head against a wall? But intellectuals in society cannot take such a stand. That will amount to an abdication of responsibility: when intellectuals do no more than make righteous noises, the harvest in the long run, is counter-productive. 

        Another factor is the emergence of a “climate of fear,” and a culture of silence/co-optation/acquiescence. Politicians distrust intellectuals; they can’t tolerate anyone around them speaking truth to power or raising disturbing questions.  The intellectual is expected to keep his ideas to himself and respect constituted authority. He is expected to enjoy his freedom in his head and dare not go public with it.  Ideas cannot thrive if the man of ideas is afraid to think, and whisper or speak. Rather than insist on the freedom to differ, many academics, journalists, writers and thinkers have since dropped the baton, and surrendered the public space. 

       But that is unhelpful cowardice.  Those who know better must continue to engage the public vigorously with ideas about governance and public policy, and encourage open debates, for the good of the entire society.  Those ideas must however, be relevant for them to be of any value; they must not be abstract theories that disconnect with the people’s realities, but ideas that offer intelligent solutions to practical problems. 
      Right now, there are critical areas where such intervention is needed: budgets, economic planning, handling a currency crisis that is fast turning into a nightmare (France has declared an economic emergency and yet was not in as bad a position as we are in…Argentina made changes to its export taxes to address its own dilemma…). We have had schizophrenic interventions by the Central Bank of Nigeria and yet where are the intellectuals to come up with analysis and desired alternative views, beyond bellyaching? Where are the inorganic public intellectuals to guide public thought?  Who are those thinking for government, the opposition and indeed the public space?

Do You Speak French? | By: Reuben Abati

I was on my way back
from Botswana, after attending a conference organized by the Africa Leadership
Forum (ALF). This was sometime in the 90s, on that same trip was Professor
Tekena Tamuno, the eminent historian of blessed memory. We boarded an Air Afrique
flight from Johannesburg to Abidjan, where we were scheduled to join another
flight to Lagos. But Air Afrique at the time had started having problems. 
Its
flights were always delayed, services were poor, and the airline had become so
notorious it eventually earned the sobriquet: peut-etre Afrique. Peut-etre in
French meaning “perhaps or maybe.” On this particular trip, the airline lived
up to its poor reputation. 

The flight from Jo’burg to Abidjan was delayed, and we missed our
connecting flight to Lagos. Our first instinct was to go to the Nigerian
Embassy in Abidjan, after the airline had given us hotel accommodation for the
night.  When Professor Tamuno and I arrived at the embassy, the Ambassador
had closed for the day. We left a message. And lo and behold, the following
morning, somebody came from the Embassy to look for us. The Ambassador, a
gentleman to the core, had received our message and he would like us to stop by
at the Embassy before our flight back to Lagos, later in the day.  A good
diplomat on foreign posting will always look out for the interest of his or her
country’s citizens under whatever circumstances. We were impressed. But this is
not the point of this article. It is as the title suggests, about French
language and the need for Nigeria to take the teaching and the learning of the
language more seriously and actively promote this in our educational
institutions. 
    When the emissary from the Embassy arrived at
our hotel, he reportedly searched everywhere for us. We were having breakfast
in the restaurant when I suddenly heard the announcement on the Public Address
system that two Nigerians in the hotel had a visitor from the Nigerian Embassy.
I informed Professor Tamuno, and he wondered whether I could speak French. My French
was still good in those days, but French is such a precise and poetic language
that does not allow any form of stammering. And if you don’t use it regularly,
you could lose it or become so rusty that you dare not speak it again. Persons
who speak French fluently cannot tolerate any form of incoherence; one funny
look at you, you’d have no option but to shut up. So, I willingly lost my
spoken French. But when I listen, I understand what is being said. 
      I have had many more memorable
encounters about the importance of French as a second language while attending
international conferences and in the course of my work, at a time, as a
government official. Virtually every international event has French as a major
language of communication. More people in the world speak Mandarin, Spanish and
may be Russian.  But French is not just the ninth most widely spoken
language; by more than 200 million people; it is a language of international
relations, and it is the second official language. At international meetings,
there are translators who help non-speakers of the main language to follow
discussions, but French vocabulary and syntax are imbued with such special
cadence that is not fully conveyed in translation. Oftentimes, the translators
can be annoying. It is not just the same thing.
     For many countries, teaching and learning
another language is a matter of strategic policy.  Countries seek to
connect with their neighbours and strategic partners through language. It is
instructive that in the United States, Spanish and Mandarin are the two other
most popular languages, the learning and teaching of which is deliberately
encouraged. The United States has a large Spanish speaking population; its
neighbours in Latin America also speak Spanish; the promotion of Spanish as a
language in the United States builds many cultural bridges.  Mandarin is
also popular because of the increasing population of Chinese-Americans. 
       Is there in Nigeria any
active policy to strategically promote language as a vehicle of integration and
development? Nigeria is surrounded by Francophone countries: how many Nigerians
speak or understand French?  When you travel to any of these Francophone
countries, or even to the Portuguese speaking ones, you can’t fail to notice
the large number of French-speaking persons who can also speak English. While
our neighbours make an effort to learn English, making it easy to relate with
them, we practically don’t make any effort to understand their own language.
And as a country, we are short-changing ourselves. It is often so embarrassing
to see many of our Foreign Affairs Ministry officials not being able to speak
any other language apart from English, or not being proficient enough, even
when they can.  When Nigerians attend international conferences within the
region, they rely on translators during formal sessions and thereafter they
just stand around playing deaf and dumb.  Almost all the Presidents in our
neighbouring Francophone countries speak English. The day we have a Nigerian
President who can have a decent conversation in French, we should slaughter a
cow! We need to take a second look at the policy on the teaching of languages
in our school system. 
     In 1996, the General Sani Abacha
administration introduced a language policy declaring French as Nigeria’s
second official language. The objective as stated in the National Policy on
Education (2004) was mainly to “smoothen interaction with our neighbours” by
promoting the French language at the primary and secondary school level. But
since then, that policy has been only on paper.  The teaching of French
language was first introduced at the secondary school level in Nigeria, around
1956, at King’s College, Lagos and Government College, Ibadan. 
      Later, it became a subject of study
at the Universities of Ibadan, Ife, UNN, and Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria and
over the years, other Nigerian universities established Departments of French
or Modern Languages.  Colleges of Education also later started offering
French, but only as a subject to be combined with a Nigerian language. At the
secondary school level, it was however treated as an optional subject, and it
was not taught at all at the primary school level. If there had been a
determined effort to promote French as a second official language, by now so
much progress would have been made.  
      There are over 2 million Nigerians
reportedly living in Cote D’Ivoire alone and more in the other Francophone
countries in West Africa, particularly Niger, Chad, Togo, Cameroun, Mali and
Burkina Faso. Nigeria may be the biggest market in Africa, but access to other
West African markets makes that market even bigger.  There are millions of
Nigerians travelling all over West Africa, engaged in profitable commerce on a
daily basis. Some of them pick up the French language out of necessity but a
properly executed language policy can fast-track Nigeria’s integration with the
sub-region, encourage regional commerce and promote co-operation and
understanding.  We need that integration if indeed Africa is the
centre-piece of our foreign policy, beginning with our immediate neighbours.
Other West African countries and even French-speaking African countries like
Gabon and Burundi are consciously promoting the learning of English. Their stated
reason: Pragmatism! 
       Language connects people.
Language defines and strengthens. I have seen situations whereby in the absence
of French or English as a connecting language, Nigerians who speak Fulfude,
Hausa and Yoruba connect so instantly with their West African brothers and
sisters who speak the same languages.  Nigeria cannot effectively perform
its leadership role in the sub-region if its people do not speak or understand
the language of their neighbours. General Sani Abacha was certainly right on
this point of making French, Nigeria’s default second language. ECOWAS by the
way, is working on a West African Highway Project, from Lagos to Nouackchott.
Is that meant to be a highway of the deaf and the dumb, trapped in cultural
spaces? 
       The greatest beneficiaries of
linguistic integration will probably be ordinary people. Multi-lingual
Nigerians do better than their mono-lingual compatriots, relatively speaking.
To get certain international appointments, you need that extra language. A friend
told me that Akinwunmi Adesina, former Minister of Agriculture, stole the show
at the preliminary screenings for his current job as AfDB President, when he
switched to French and spoke with such power of articulation and insight. There
are thousands more. We need to produce more Nigerians like that. And we need
those other Nigerians too, who can sell whatever from Cotonou to Lome to Niger,
Chad, Abidjan and Cameroun, undeterred by language barriers, switching
linguistic codes with ease. 
      And it is better to catch them
young.  Children learn and absorb language almost by osmosis. We need to
start preparing our children for international life, within the region and
beyond, by teaching them French and for those who have the capacity, Nigerian
languages and other languages as well.  We must begin to prepare our
future Presidents of international corporations, and Nigerians who will also,
in future become Secretary Generals of the United Nations and other
multilateral institutions. The obsession with wealth and the transient is
making us lose focus as a country. Our greatest asset remains our children, the
young, untainted ones, who need to be captured and built up, before they get
sucked into the prevalent, abnormal normative value system in the country. 
      By now, it should be clear that
this is not just about the teaching of French as a second official language but
more about the gaps and the chaos in Nigeria’s education system.  Our
disruptive governance process, the forever-begin-again culture of governance,
truncates so many things, and the education process gets poorly served. I have
dealt with aspects of this in earlier writings and I just want to repeat the
point that the education of the Nigerian child and the re-schooling of society
are so tied to all matters of progress and development that we just cannot stop
talking about them.  In the same manner in which we promote regional
integration, we should also use language to bind the country together. Nigerian
languages should be taught in schools as compulsory subjects. Where language
barriers do not exist, people are always willing to listen, and in a world
where the wisdom of the tribe prevails, we should encourage people to talk and
listen, and remove barriers. 

    There are many young Nigerians studying abroad
whose parents are spending a fortune to get them to plug into this global trend
but even if those children speak all the languages of the world, they may be
lost to the country forever. They have little or no attachment to Nigeria’s
education system and their parents may not be keen about linking them to a
natal origin where electricity remains a problem, infrastructure deficit
continues to grow and the future is permanently uncertain. This is why in simple
terms, in this matter, the change process must begin at home at all
levels.  In the end (you see?), everything is linked, but we are
optimistic that all will be well, because after all, we are Nigerians: we
manage to be happy in every situation.  Meilleurs voeux.

Who released, killed and ate our lion? | By Reuben Abati

Photo published for Reuben Abati: Who released, killed and ate our lion - YNaija
“Did they send you your own share of the bush meat?”
“Bush meat?”
“The lion in the zoo that became bush meat in Jos”
“What’s my own inside? I don’t know any zoo worker in Jos and how could a lion that was allowed out of its cage and got shot end up in my stomach. The kind of things you say sometimes.”
“That means you have not been following the story.”
“It is an animal tale”
“Created, concocted and delivered by animals in human skin, working in animal kingdom, telling us animal tales. What surprises me is the fact that there has been no public uproar, no outrage.”
“People are too busy thinking of how to survive as human beings, how to fight the current nationwide epidemic of empty pockets and stomachs, and survive the change in their lives.”
“But when a similar incident occurred at the Hwange National Park in Zimbabwe, there was serious outrage all over the world. Dr. Palmer, the American who killed the lion was the target of abuse and attacks. He even had to shut down his dental office. There were calls for his prosecution.”
“I know. In our case, the international community is indifferent. It is as if nothing has happened. A lion was killed in Zimbabwe; there was protest. A few days ago in Kenya, two Maasai herdsmen were charged for poisoning a lion. A lion is killed in Nigeria, not a whimper. “
“The truth is that the rest of the world is convinced that Nigeria itself is a zoo. Boko Haram is slaughtering thousands of human beings, girls are being abducted in hundreds, women are being raped, voters are getting killed in Kogi and Bayelsa. With such evils against humanity, why should anyone worry about a Nigerian lion being shot and ending up in the zoo of stomachs?”
“The zoo of stomachs”
“Look, I can swear that if you open some people’s stomachs in this country, what you will find is a zoo: lions, grasshoppers, horses, cats, rats, snakes, dogs, rabbits, antelopes, crocodiles, birds, elephants, extinct animals, disappearing species, anything that can serve the gut, and ginger the taste buds. That is why we can never successfully run a zoo, or a Games Reserve.”
“See, the situation in Zimbabwe with Cecil, the lion is no different. In Zimbabwe, the zoo guides deliberately released the lion and Dr. Palmer laid siege and gunned down the lion, and beheaded it. In Jos, their explanation is that the lion slipped out of its cage when it was being fed breakfast.”
“Lying liars. Fibbing fibbers.”
“They made it sound as if the lion was living in a room and parlour and he just moved from the room to the parlour, to the verandah and to the streets.  It is a zoo, for Heaven’s sake and there are standards and best practices!.”
“How will they know what the best practice is, when they don’t even know the age of the lion? The manager of the zoo says the lion has been there since 1972. A 43-year old lion, and yet there is no established protocol for managing it.”
“There is no 43-year old lion anywhere in the world. That is a lie. They don’t have records. They don’t keep records.”
“The lion doesn’t even have a name. In Zimbabwe, and Kenya, they name their lions.”
“That is not a problem. We can give the lion a name, right now. What is the name of the state Governor?”
“Simon Lalong.  What about him?”
“Good.  Simon, the lion. How about that?”
“Ha. The man is still alive oh. And of what use is a name to a lion that is dead, skinned, cut into bits and pieces, taken home to the cooking pots, eaten, digested, and washed down with whatever the animals eating animal meat deemed fit.”  
 “The very reason the Governor should order a serious investigation. Who released the lion? And why? Who killed it, skinned it? And who took part in the Feast of the Lion? For all you know, the zoo-keeper deliberately released the lion. He may have been commissioned to do so, by herbalists, who I hear value the body parts of a lion. In that kind of world, the teeth of a lion, the paws, the skin, the ears, all of this can be used by ritualists to give a human being, lion-like powers.”
“Blood of Jesus!”
“Did you not see how the killers posed with the lion for photograph, drooling from the mouth, salivating, looking hungry?
“They made it seem as if the lion was a jailbird who escaped, and resisting arrest, they shot it, instead of tranquilizing it. And they turned the zoo into an abattoir!”
“All the characters involved should be investigated and sacked. Otherwise, tomorrow, they will release a rabbit and gun it down, next tomorrow, an antelope will also break jail, and it will be shot, to be followed by a snake, all getting shot and ending up in people’s pots as bush meat.”
 “That is why we can’t run a proper zoo, games reserve or a tourism programme. We talk about climate change and the environment but we don’t know that animals are important to the ecosystem. Sad.”
“Have you not heard of the lion that the Saraki Senate has also let loose?”
“A zoo in the Senate? I don’t get it.”  
“They have just released one lion called Social Media Bill.”
“You mean the Frivolous Petitions Prohibition Bill”
“The law seeks to gag the social media. It says you can’t even complain on your what’s app, email, twitter, BB or blog and if you say something that is frivolous, you can go to jail or pay a fine.”
“That is an assault on the fundamental right to free speech; a dangerous lion that should be tranquilized!”
“They don’t have tranquilizer in Jos zoo or any other zoo in Nigeria, is it in the Senate that they will have it? Look, some activists have decided to organize their own public hearings and shoot down this particular lion.”
“Let’s go there then. Let the shooting shooters, the gunning gunners, the writing writers, the protesting protesters, the marching marchers, the shouting shouters, the fighting fighters, the petitioning petitioners, the blogging bloggers and the tweeting children of anger have their own public hearing. That’s democracy.”
“You left out the Wailing Wailers”
“They too. I think this is the type of lion that Nigerians should kill, not Simon.”
“I like your passion. But there was a protest in Abuja on Tuesday. I didn’t see you joining them?”
“Hen. Hen. You want them to mistake me for a lion that escaped and shoot me, abi? You don’t know that to be an activist, you must also be wise, and protect your stomach from bullets.”
“I thought you were bullet-proof. And you need not be afraid, anyway. The Senate has made it clear that it is acting in the public interest and that its members are not opposed to free speech. Just a simple matter.”
“Please! My fear is that they are all shooting already and because they are yet to hit target, there are stray bullets flying all around, respecting nobody. You go and ask Dino.”
“Which of the Dinos? Dino 1, Dino 2, Dino 3 or Dino $1,000?”
“I don’t know. But the people in Aso Rock have been smart enough to duck.  They are now talking about free speech. Free speech. Free speech! Thank God oh, for free speech!”
“Not in Bayelsa at this time, though. Or in Kogi, where people are suspicious of tomorrow.”  
“Why not in Bayelsa? I saw the people insisting that they should be allowed to choose  their Governor. Too much violence in that election.”
“I hear Countriman has declared that he’s not going to die and that the election will be concluded.”
“Who is so-called?”
“Dickson”
“Ha, Dickson na Ijebu Ode boy oh. Him no ready to die. Bobo no go die, afi to ba di Governor. Bobo!”
But INEC says the Bayelsa election is inconclusive.”
“This new INEC should just be renamed Inconclusive National Electoral Commission (INEC). If they take weeks to conduct elections in eight local governments, with less than one million voters, if they have to run a nationwide election, then the entire country will be declared inconclusive. Where is Jega by the way? They need him as a Consultant.”
“Why? Let him enjoy his retirement, I beg.”
“Why not?” 
“It is called change, my brother.”
“But not in Kogi where I hear the Deputy-Governor elect is swearing that if he is not allowed to inherit the Audu-Faleke undeclared victory, he will not show up to be sworn in as a Deputy Governor on January 27, 2016.”
“He doesn’t want to be Deputy Governor again?”
“He says he cannot betray former Governor Abubakar Audu.”
“Ha. Inconclusive matter! I think we should declare 2015 our year of inconclusiveness. 2015: Nigeria’s Inconclusive Year. How about that?
“Nigeria’s Year of Inconclusivity.”
“Two weeks to Christmas, see how people are looking sad. Some people this year will just pretend that there is no Christmas, Christmas having been declared inconclusive! Even prostitutes have reduced their charging rates; everybody is looking for survival, and anything is fair game, be it a live lion, or the people’s rights or what is that famous blogger’s favourite word again? Yes, eggplant. As Douglas Adams said: to summarize the summary of a summary, people are a problem.”
Tell me more about these prostitutes and their current rate cards.”
“No be me and you.  You go and find out. You see, you are part of the problem.”
“That includes you too, I beg. You always talk about change; now you have it, and you don’t want to talk about it. My friend, don’t complain. Go and sit down.”
“Change?”
“Change is the necessity of history”  
“You know the truth?”
“What?”
“Things do not change, we do.”  Henry David Thoreau.”
“I don’t know him. You know what? Stop quoting dead people.”

Sugabelly, rape and Audu’s sons | By: Reuben Abati

You probably don’t know Sugabelly. I don’t know her either. But it is the twitter handle of a Nigerian lady: @sugabelly, who in the wake of the death of former Governor Abubakar Audu of Kogi State felt the urge to go public with her story. My foregrounding her/story as opposed to his/story is further affirmation of an earlier submission that Audu’s death is “inconclusive”.

As the rest of Nigeria mourned the death of Abubakar Audu and pondered the implications of an inconclusive electoral process, Sugabelly showed up on social media and started celebrating his death. Her message was that the death of the man was good riddance to bad rubbish. “I feel so amazing”, she wrote. “Like God actually answered my prayers… That’s usually how it is.

Powerful people rarely remember the people whose lives they destroy.” She alleged that Audu’s sons once gang-raped her-seven of them, when she was an impressionable 17-year old and that Governor Audu used his position as a big man to rubbish her, slammed her with a $2 million libel suit, denied her from getting justice, with his lawyers insisting that “14 years” is the age of consent under the Penal Code in the FCT, and so there is no case.

For eight years, her life, she says, has been a nightmare including contemplation’s of suicide and spells of manic depression. Her frustration is well articulated in her twitter handle and an extended commentary titled “Surviving Mustapha Audu and His Rape Brigade”.
I have heard people proclaim loudly that a traditional proverb says: “the witch cried last night and the child died in the morning” and they have been wondering whether there was some kind of extra-terrestrial, meta-physical animus which led to Audu’s sudden death.

Howbeit, Sugabelly’s allegation is that of unlawful carnal knowledge. Her protestation made the rounds for a few days largely uncelebrated, but it caught fire last Friday. For days, rape was the subject of discussion on Nigerian twitter. Opinion was divided with some calling Sugabelly, “a whore” and a badly brought up child but soon, the weight tilted heavily in her favour as the reactions panned out to focus on the menace of sexual assault against women and the devastating effect on persons, families, the victims and society.

One of the sons of Abubakar Audu was soon fingered as the leader of the rape brigade -by both Sugabelly and her staunchest supporter, @Echecrates. What happened subsequently is better experienced. A lady tweeting as Zahra – @oakleafbycg – jumped into the fray to defend him – hers was quite a spirited fight that lasted for hours, defending the integrity of her husband. She probably was defending herself too.

Her father-in-law was so close to being governor and he lost it, only for some twitter activists, and a sugabelly (what a name! by the way) to start suggesting that her husband has a rape case to answer. She is a good woman, isn’t she? I monitored the conversations, and it is difficult to conclude that anyone was successfully convicted for there were persons who raised questions about sugabelly’s identity, her motives and whether she is not just a spoiler, playing a sponsored political game.
The emergent consensus, however, focused on the menace of rape in our society. Some male commentators seeking to genderize the discussion also pointed out that they were once raped, too, but the pervasive impression was that young girls are more often the victims. I noted that there was very little talk about marital rape, which is ordinarily a major issue in the West, but which will be considered absurd by Africans.
There were some suggestions about rapists being put to death in line with the still untested Violence Against Persons Act, but as is the case with twitter, 140-word interventions do not necessarily an honest thinker or an intellectual make. It creates an illusion though, the illusion that someone whose reasoning is below 140 words is a mega-man of knowledge and insights.
Nonetheless, the matter between sugabelly and the Audu sons deserves a little more probing. I am tempted to commend sugabelly for throwing up the subject, but the real problem with rape in our society lies in the inadequacy of both legal and social responses. Both the law and the society stigmatise rape, and wrong-foot the victim. The relevant sections of the law in Nigeria today more or less ridicule the victim, and usually, the victim is female.

The biggest challenge for decades has been this manner in which the law humiliates the female victim: the procedure requires examination by a medical doctor and in open court, proving actual penetration up to the labia majora. That is a tough call for victims and families, and so, many cases end up unreported. Besides, the criminal justice system peopled by phallocentric officials is wont to dismiss any woman reporting rape: in Nigeria, it would be ridiculous indeed for a married woman or a girlfriend to report being raped by her husband or fiancée. From the policeman at the station to the presiding judge, if it gets to that stage, the case may die a natural death in the vortex of misogyny.
Culture is a major barrier: the search for virgins at the bridal chamber by African families is a long dead custom, but few families can stand the stigma of taking as wife, a woman who has been raped, and whose indignity has been broadcast.

Female victims are, therefore, reluctant to seek legal redress, first because of social stigma, and that is why there are very few convictions despite the regular incidence of rape. Any woman that is labeled a rape victim stands the risk of not getting a husband: families of prospective suitors will latch on to that evidence as if it is a mark of leprosy, and urge their sons to steer clear, creating for the woman’s family an undeserved dilemma. Despite the wave of modernity in our land, tradition remains resilient and marriage, going to a man’s house, is still, quite sadly, considered a woman’s ultimate achievement.

This is probably why, in due course, the accused also showed up in the conversation releasing e-mail exchanges between him and Sugabelly, and going as far as revealing her true identity and painting her as a “whore,” a liar and an opportunist. Parents, keep an eye on your sons and daughters! The family, the most important social unit, has a role to play.

Both male and female children should be brought up to respect ethical values and the rights of other human beings to dignity. The inferiorisation of the female gender often begins in the home, and there are too many cultural paradigms sustaining an objectionable model of parenting, which must change. Too many parents, too busy trying to make survival possible, have abdicated responsibility and it is society that is hurt as a result.
The solution also lies in legal reform: the laws on rape must become more progressive and enlightened. The statutes have been in urgent need of review for long; they must provide the necessary deterrence and not ridicule the victim; even the Violence Against Persons Act (2015) does not fully correct the mischief in the Criminal and Penal Codes.
There is also a trend now that must be addressed; namely, the objectification of women for profit or other purposes. The most recent illustration I find is the battle being waged on twitter and instagram by @blossomnnodim, who has since changed to @blossomozurumba (good luck to the man who is responsible for this blossoming), as she takes on a TBWA power charger advert, which instead of promoting the subject focuses on a woman’s biological gifts.

Blossom objects to this but she has since been accused of witch-hunting and idleness. Her critics miss the point. The objectification of women in popular culture erodes the dignity of women. But the worse of it all is that women themselves promote this negative effect. Nigeria has been lucky in locking into global trends on all fronts, but in a global village, we have not been successful in retaining local standards as a bulwark against negative, imperial cultural influences.

Social media, for example, is dominated by images of sexual libertinism; even our young ladies who are now role models on the basis of concrete accomplishments help to foster this image. I am making this point delicately; my concern is that we have too many Nigerian female role models who are busy trying to be like Amber Rose, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna, Kim Kardashian, Kylie Jenner, Rita Ora, Miles Cyrus, Blac Chyna – if you know what I mean, all those foreign cultural icons whose lifestyles commodify women.

Our own equivalents are all over social media: pretty girls who are perpetually showing cleavages, wearing body tights that accentuate curves, some even boast that they won’t wear bras and pants and that illicit sex is cool: that is how this self-denigration has grown all the way down, creating a sexual tension even among the uneducated wannabes. I am not victimizing the victim, knowing full well that there is that human rights border of freedom of choice and expression; still, new cultural realities should command certain limits.

Sugabelly may not get the sugar of contentment that she seeks, but let her be consoled that she has ignited a debate that may shed more light on the dilemma of rape, and/or sex with a minor (Penal Code or not), and the sad manner in which our society continues to produce children and adults who behave badly. Let us also hope that sooner or later, the sleeping Abubakar Audu will be allowed to lie, by his sons and the girl they allegedly raped.

It is not Audu that is on trial, it is his sons: sons of big men who go overboard with their life of privilege, and of course, Sugabelly- the overtly impressionable young girl- who are all still alive to be called to account, if not in regular court, but now, in the court of public opinion.

The Phones No Longer Ring | By: Reuben Abati

As spokesman to President Goodluck Jonathan, my phones rang endlessly and became more than personal navigators within the social space. They defined my entire life; dusk to dawn, all year-round. The phones buzzed non-stop, my email was permanently active; my twitter account received tons of messages per second.  The worst moments were those days when there was a Boko Haram attack virtually every Sunday.
The intrusion into my private life was total as my wife complained about her sleep being disrupted by phones that never seemed to stop ringing. Besides, whenever I was not checking or responding to the phones, I was busy online trying to find out if the APC had said something contrarian or some other fellow was up to any mischief. A media manager in the 21st century is a slave of the Breaking News, a slave particularly of the 24-hour news cycle, and a potential nervous breakdown case. Debo Adesina, my colleague at The Guardianonce said I was running a “one week, one trouble schedule”. There were actually moments when trouble knocked on the door every hour, and duty required my team and I to respond to as many issues that came up.
Top of the task list was the management of phone calls related to the principal. In my first week on the job, for example, one of my phones ran out of battery and I had taken the liberty to charge it. While it was still in the off mode, the “Control Room”: the all-powerful communications centre at the State House tried to reach me. They had only just that phone number, so I couldn’t be reached. When eventually they did, the fellow at the other end was livid.

“SA Media, where are you? We have been trying to reach you. Mr President wants to speak with you”
“Sorry, I was charging my phone.  The phone was off.”
“Sir, you can’t switch off your phone now.  Mr President must be able to reach you at any time. You must always be available.”  I was like: “really? Which kin job be dis?”

The Control Room eventually collected all my phone numbers. If I did not pick up a call on time, they called my wife. Sometimes the calls came directly from the Residence, as we referred to the President’s official quarters.

“Abati, Oga dey call you!”‎

If I still could not be reached, every phone that was ever connected to me would ring non-stop. Busy bodies who had just picked up the information that Abati was needed also often took it upon themselves to track me down. My wife soon got used to her being asked to produce me, or a car showing up to take me straight to the Residence. I eventually got used to it, and learnt to remain on duty round-the-clock.  In due course, President Jonathan himself would call directly. My wife used to joke that each time there was a call from him, even if I was sleeping, I would spring to my feet and without listening to what he had to say, I would start with a barrage of “Yes sirs”! Other calls that could not be joked with were calls from my own office. Something could come up that would require coverage, or there could be a breaking story, or it could be something as harmless as office gossip, except that in the corridors of power, nothing is ever harmless. Looking back now, I still can’t figure out how I survived that onslaught of the terror of the telephone.
Of equal significance were the calls from journalists who wanted clarifications on issues of the moment, or the President’s opinion on every issue. I don’t need to remind anyone who lived in Nigeria during the period, that we had a particularly interesting time. The Jonathan government had to deal from the very first day with a desperate and hyper-negative opposition, which gained help from a crowd of naysayers who bought into their narrative. I was required to respond to issues. Bad news sells newspapers and attracts listeners/viewers. Everything had to be managed.  You knew something had happened as the phones rang, and the text messages, emails, twitter comments poured in. The media could not be ignored. Interfacing with every kind of journalist was my main task.  I learnt many lessons,  a subject for another day.  And the busy bodies didn’t make things easy.
If in 1980, the media manager had to deal with print and broadcast journalists, today, the big task is the dilemma of the over-democratization of media practice in the age of information. The question used to be asked in Nigerian media circles: who is a journalist? Attempts were subsequently made to produce a register of professionals but that is now clearly an illusion. The media of the 21st Century is the strongest evidence we have for the triumph of democracy. Everybody is a journalist now, once you can purchase a phone or a laptop, or an ipad and you can take pictures, set up a blog, or go on instagram, linked-in, viber etc.
All kinds of persons have earned great reputation as editors and opinion influencers on social media where you don’t have to make sense to attract followers. The new stars and celebrities are not necessarily the most educated or knowledgeable, but those who with 140 words or less, or with a picture or a borrowed quote,  can produce fast-food type public intellectualism, or can excite with a little display of the exotic -Kadarshian, Nicki Minaj style.  But I was obligated to attend to all calls. The ones who didn’t receive an answer complained about Abati not picking their calls.
My defence was that most editors in Nigeria have correspondents in the State House. Every correspondent had access to me. There was no way I could be accused of not picking calls, and in any case, there were other channels: instagram, twitter direct message, email, and media assistants who could interface with me. But this was the main challenge: while in public office, people treat you as if you are at their mercy, they threaten to sabotage you and get you sacked, every phone call was a request with a price attached, you get clobbered; you are treated like you had committed a crime to serve your nation. Relatives and privileged kinsmen struggled with you to do the job – media management is that one assignment in which everyone is an expert even if their only claim to relevance is that they once had an uncle who was a newspaper vendor!
The thinking that anyone who opts to serve is there to make money in that famous arena for primitive accumulation partly accounts for this. And that takes me to those phone calls from persons who solicited for financial help as if there was a tree at the Villa that produced money. Such people would never believe that government officials don’t necessarily have access to money. They wanted to be assisted: to pay school fees, to settle medical bills, to build a house, purchase a car, complete an uncompleted building, or link them up with the President. Everybody wanted a part of the national cake and they thought a phone call was all they needed.  If you offered any explanation, they reminded you that you’d be better off on the lecture circuit. Businessmen also hovered around the system like bees around nectar.   
But what to do? “Volenti non fit injuria,” the principle says.  There were also calls from the unkind lot. “I have called you repeatedly, you did not pick my calls. I hope you know that you will leave government one day!”.  Or those who told you point blank that they were calling because you were in the position as their representative and that you owed them a living.  Or that other crowd who said, “it is our brother that has given you that opportunity, you must give us our share.”
The Presidential election went as it did, and everything changed. Days after,  State House became Ghost House. The Residence, which used to receive visitors as early as 6 am, (regular early morning devotion attendees) became quiet. The throng of visitors stopped. The number of phone calls began to drop. By May 29, my phones had stopped ringing as they used to. They more or less became museum pieces; their silence reminding me of the four years of my life that proved so momentous. On one occasion, after a whole day of silence, I had to check if the phones were damaged! As it were, a cynical public relates to you not as a person, but as the office you occupy; the moment you leave office, the people move on; erasing every memory, they throw you into yesterday’s dustbin.  Opportunism is the driver of the public’s relationship with public officials.
 Today, the phones remain loudly silent, with the exception of calls from those friends who are not gloating, who have been offering words of commendation and support. They include childhood friends, former colleagues, elderly associates, fans, and family members. And those who want interviews with President Jonathan, both local and international – they want his reaction on every development, so many of them from every part of the planet. But he is resting and he has asked me to say he is not ready yet to say anything.
It is truly, a different moment, and indeed, “no condition is permanent.”
The ones who won’t give up with the stream of phone calls and text messages are those who keep pestering me with requests for financial assistance. I am made to understand that there is something called “special handshake” and that everyone who goes into government is supposed to exit with carton loads of cash. I am in no position to assist such people, because no explanation will make sense to them. Here I am, at the crossroads; I am glad to be here.  
Credit: premiumtimesng.com

GEJ orders that #BringBackGoodluck2015 banners be taken down

There’s something I really don’t get here. The President never knew about the banners? Interesting!!! According to reports, President Goodluck Jonathan has ordered that the #BringBackGoodluck2015 banners hung at different locations in Abuja be taken down.

Needless to say the #BringBackGoodluck2015 hashtag has not only be found offensive by Nigerians but members of the international community have also expressed their disgust. He released a statement via his aide, Dr Reuben Abati.

“President Jonathan wholly shares the widely expressed view that the signs which were put up without his knowledge or approval are a highly insensitive parody of the #BringBackOurGirls hash tag.

While President Jonathan appreciates the enthusiastic show of support for his administration by a broad range of stakeholders, he condemns the #BringBackJonathan2015 signs which appear to make light of the very serious national and global concern for the abducted Chibok girls.

The President assures all Nigerians and the international community that his administration remains fully engaged with efforts to rescue the abducted girls and that he will not knowingly promote any actions that will fly in the face of the seriousness of their plight and the anguish of their families.”

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