Lagos — In Honour of Joseph Nanven Garba, 1943-2002
Joseph Nanven Garba was born on July 17th, 1943 and died ten years ago tomorrow, June 1st, 2002. He was a soldier, a diplomat, and a remarkable human being, but, above all, he was a patriot. He believed in Nigeria, though Nigeria often disappointed him. He believed in Nigerians and their future, though they, too, often disappointed him. Were he here with us, I am sure he would be beyond disappointment; he would be angry. Nigeria did not have to be as we see it now.
You may wonder how someone who looks and sounds like me can presume to speak about "How to be a Nigerian." I can only tell you that, in one of the nicest compliments I have ever been paid, I was regularly introduced by Joe Garba as "This is Jean Herskovits, a well-disguised Nigerian." I cannot promise to be as verbose as Peter Enahoro's satirical characterization of Nigerian oratory, nor to make creative use of proverbs. And although I know full well that I am not a Nigerian but simply a frequent guest here, I will tell you that my concern for Nigeria, its people, and their future goes very deep. Joe Garba had, and still has, no small influence on those feelings.
Today, you will hear a lot about his accomplishments, and in Joe Garba's Legacy, the volume to be presented shortly, you may read in some of his own words his views on subjects that were central to his thinking. None mattered more to him than this country's fulfilling its by-now clichéd potential, and he well knew how much that depended on Nigerians and their commitment to its future.
That the pride in being Nigerian has diminished is, sadly, inescapable now. The national identity is frayed. Some people even talk and write openly about breaking up Nigeria--this in a country that experienced the tragedy of civil war.(2)
As an historian, and one privileged to have watched Nigeria closely since just before its independence, I will look briefly at Nigerianness over the years. To speak only about the present would be to do what Joe Garba deplored-ignoring history. As every student of history knows, however, you can use, or misuse, it to make whatever case you choose. We see too much of that now. But what I will do is put Nigeria's experience into a larger historical and geographical context, and draw some implications for thinking about the Nigerian future that Joe Garba believed in and many here today share.
As you well know, Nigeria's myriad people date their history from long before it existed as a country. Nigeria itself is nearly 100 years old or just over fifty, depending on how you count. Some people make much of its artificial creation. Years ago Chief Obafemi Awolowo described Nigeria as a mere geographical expression. I would argue that such statements make a political point, but are historically irrelevant.
Many, if not most, of the world's nations evolved over time, with fluid boundaries, through war and conquest, even disappearing and reappearing at various times (Poland comes to mind). Sometimes geography shapes boundaries, but rarely in an uncomplicated way. Note, for instance, the history of Great Britain, encompassing England, Scotland, Wales, or of the United States, stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean.
Empires, of course, proclaimed countries and drew boundaries in places they little understood. Britain in south Asia is one example; the Scramble for Africa that led to delineating Nigeria is obviously another. Other empires drew together places with diverse histories and cultures with varying success: the Ottoman and Hapsburg Empires; the Soviet Union later. There were many others. I suspect that, without European intrusion, southern Africa could have been consolidated under a Zulu empire (the Zulu always fascinated Joe Garba).
So to my mind, what matters is not how there came to be an entity called Nigeria, but rather that such a country has existed throughout the lifetimes of all of us. During that time, sinews have grown binding its people together, no matter how much they complain about it or point to what divides them.
I don't know when people started calling themselves Nigerian, but use of the name began in Lagos, notably with the founding in 1923, by Herbert Macaulay, of the Nigerian National Democratic Party. Its focus was Lagos, with broader Nigeria scarcely figuring in the politics of the day. Macaulay and others to come were more concerned with Lagos and Anglophone West Africa than with Nigeria.
A broader Nigerian identification came with students who were studying abroad. Their numbers were few as World War II approached; even by 1945 there were only some 150 in England and fewer than a dozen in the U.S., and they were all from southern parts of the country. That war spurred the rise of African nationalism and its later demands for national self-determination-not least among Nigerian soldiers, all of them northerners, and, among them, Joe Garba's father, fighting with the British in Burma.
Meanwhile, Nigerians studying overseas had become politically active and vocal. In 1941 the London-based West African Students Union (WASU) sent a resolution to the British governor of Nigeria asking for, among other things,
...... a United Nigeria with a Federal Constitution based on a Swiss or USA model with necessary modifications. Local tribal loyalty [should] be gradually transcended, submerged, and suppressed by the creation and development of Nigerian National Loyalty.(3)
However naïve that now sounds, it expressed a genuine vision, illuminating not only for our topic today but also for its constitutional foresight.
I suspect that as the numbers of Nigerian students abroad increased, the sense of being Nigerian did too. By the late 1950s, in Oxford or London, if you asked a Nigerian where he (it usually was he) was from, he'd answer "Nigeria," and would resist being pressed for more specifics. In the United States by 1960 "Nigeria" would be the answer, delivered with near-aggressive emphasis that closed off probing further.
1966 changed that for some. In July that year I was in Atlanta, Georgia, as an instructor in a Peace Corps training program for volunteers heading to Nigeria's Eastern Region. My assignment was Nigerian history; my fellow Nigerian instructors were Igbo language teachers. They and I felt some distance from the other Americans on the staff, including a few who had already been in the Peace Corps in Nigeria. We talked endlessly about what was happening "at home." That's how I knew that on July 28th they were building in their minds a Nigerian future. On July 29th, they wavered, and by the next day, for them, a Nigerian future had disappeared.
Civil war came in 1967 and ended 30 months later, with General Gowon's remarkable "No Victors, No Vanquished" policy, rare if not unique for victors in "brothers' wars." Those on the side of "One Nigeria," especially those who had fought for it and their families, were proud to be Nigerians; understandably, those who fought for Biafra had a harder time with such feelings, which would rebuild--and sometimes recede--for individuals over time.
But in the aftermath of the civil war, forging the country's unity and increasing Nigerians' sense that the country belonged to all of them was an explicit goal of the two military governments of the 1970s. Creating states out of the regions was designed to do that. Even though designating the first twelve in 1967 had a tactical dimension as war approached, doing so responded to long-time agitation from "minorities" in Nigeria's regions to get out from under ethnically-defined majority rule.
Indeed, as Independence approached, the British government had set up the Willink Commission to "enquire into the fears of Minorities and the means of allaying them." Its (all-British) members did not recommend creating states for two reasons that still resonate: "In considering the problem within each region," they wrote, "we were impressed by the fact that it is seldom possible to draw a clean boundary which does not create a fresh minority." They continued: " a new state created today would have to compete with the existing Regions, and the cost in overheads, not only financial but in resources-particularly in trained minds-would be high."(4)
Despite the hope in1976 that creating seven more states would make for a more unified Nigeria, the reservations the Willink Commission expressed have come all too true. I understand that even with the current 36 states, the National Assembly has received requests for over 60 more and has agreed to consider 46. And we all know, and are appropriately shocked by, the percentage of Nigeria's resources that already go to maintaining its many governments, few of which, if any, starting with Abuja, take measures to reduce costs.
Nor have those been the only negative consequences of multiplying states. It has been obvious since the Second Republic that state governors could act as they please, unchecked institutionally except by an impeachment process. Not only is that too blunt an instrument, it has been flagrantly abused for purely political reasons. Nonetheless, Lord Acton's saying about how power corrupts applies as well to governors as to presidents, not to mention local government chairmen, when they get their hands on resources.
Over the years I have traveled by road in all but one of the current states, and it is beyond words to describe how it feels now to see dilapidated structures and pathetic roads-the same or worse, than they were 35 years ago, when the population was far smaller.
And how did the admirable idea of bringing government and development closer to the people work out? With a few exceptions, it has simply meant more contracts for state houses, more ministries, more motorcycles for more outriders-more spent to assure the comfort of those who, at least in theory, govern. And because elections have been, at best, problematic and, at worst, massively rigged, many people have no recourse, no hope.
Why in amending the 1979 constitution three or more times, has nothing been done about this? A rhetorical question. And when, for the overwhelming majority of Nigerians, day-to-day existence is threatened by insecurity and poverty-they are linked, whatever the complexities of each-how can they feel proudly Nigerian?
Even the new capital Abuja, purposely sited in the middle of the country to make it equally accessible to all, has bred unexpected resentment. Yes, people flock there in their tens of thousands, in search of work or patronage. But the opulence and extravagance have made many of those who see it say to themselves, "So that's where the money goes." We know that this prompted young men of the Niger Delta to turn to violent protest, after some of them were brought to Abuja, in 1998, and paid to demonstrate in favor of a civilian Abacha presidency.
Those who rule now have Julius Berger building eight-lane highways that whisk them quickly past people they are supposed to represent, to get to the airport, or wherever else. But turn off one of those highways, into the "bush" of the Federal Capital Territory, and you will drive on dirt tracks for forty minutes to reach a village only dozens of kilometers away. How can those villagers, desperately hungry for education, not to mention power and water, think about being Nigerians?
And then there is the idea of federal character. It was introduced to cement the feeling that the country belonged to all Nigerians, but it has been taken to unforeseen-and, I would argue, destructive-extremes. Very like American "affirmative action," it was designed to compensate for historically deep disparities.(5) It was a companion to the new, 1979 American-style constitution, that I thought, along with those who mandated it, would be appropriate for Nigeria's complexity and its then-19 states. I was wrong.(6) Astronomical cost apart as states multiplied, federal character made selecting members with appropriate credentials ever harder in ever-larger cabinets. If a minister was chosen from one Senatorial zone, an ambassador had to come from another. Even local governments replicated the pattern.
And who knew that the phrase "indigene of" a state would be taken to unspeakable lengths, used in politics, education, and job opportunities to exclude non-indigenes or, perhaps more shamefully, "settlers." This violates the constitution, which has stated since 1979 that " national integration shall be actively encouraged, whilst discrimination on the grounds of place of origin, sex, religion, status, ethnic or linguistic association or ties shall be prohibited" and "it shall be the duty of the State to secure full residence rights for every citizen in all parts of the Federation."(7)
Not only that, the term "settler" defies accurate definition. The land mass now called Nigeria has seen extensive movement of peoples over time--into it, throughout it, away from it. Indeed, it was the mobility of Nigerians that contributed to the feeling of being Nigerian.
Few of Nigeria's people can consider themselves autochthonous-that is to have been where we now find them for as long as anyone's history or traditions or archeology can tell. But linguists give us a basis for thinking that some groups in the Niger Delta and in the hills of Plateau may qualify. In both places the linguistic complexity is stunning. Indeed, in the Niger Delta any two neighboring languages, we're told, are farther apart linguistically (indicating eons-long presence without contact with others) than the entire Bantu-language family-that is, the languages spoken by virtually all Africans living south of an east-west line from, roughly, Calabar to Kenya.(8) But in the context of Nigeria as a whole, these autochthonous groups are very, very few, and even they came from somewhere.
So, historically speaking, virtually all Nigerians are settlers. Coming closer to the present, some labeled as settlers have lived for generations where they are now-and those who single out settlers for self-serving political purposes are, in fact, settlers themselves. But who has reprimanded those who talk about indigenes or settlers and provoke violence when they do?
The last ringing speech I remember by a Head of State invoking Nigerian patriotism came from General Buhari in 1984, when some young Nigerians had begun leaving the country with uncertain plans about returning: "This generation of Nigerians and indeed future generations have no other country than Nigeria. We shall remain here and salvage it together," he said.
Now, I'm told, people have become so distrustful of one another that friends who happen to come from the old Midwest and live in Lagos-tell me of reactions ranging from shock to disapproval from fellow Southerners who learn that their teenage son has on occasion stayed, in Lagos, with family friends from the North. I've since been repeatedly told not to be surprised by such feelings.
It was not always like this, as most of you know. I remember peaceful times in the 1970s when Christians and Muslims celebrated each other's holidays and both took part in local traditional festivities. And I saw the impact of the original NYSC, started under General Gowon and designed to increase national cohesion. It produced, among other things, friendships and families across ethnic and religious lines and careers far away from "home."(9)
Apart from the purposeful distortion of the NYSC, the tragic deterioration-even demise-of Nigeria's educational system has made its own negative contribution. Access to subsidized education for all, especially in the educationally-disadvantaged North, was vital in so many ways, not least in bringing together students from different parts of the country at an age where life-long friendships are made. With 12 or even 19 states, secondary schools provided opportunities for Nigerians to learn about one another. And the world-class university system, allowing its graduates to gain admission to the best graduate and professional schools everywhere, stretched local horizons further.
No more, and not, sadly, for several decades. The proliferation of states and the fallout from "indigeneity"-a word as ugly in consequences as it sounds-has narrowed opportunities for Nigerians to learn about one another. Further, there is a curriculum that, incredibly to me, does not include Nigerian geography or history. I was stunned a few months ago, while visiting a secondary school in Edo State. When students and teachers there, in a large assemblage, were asked if they knew where Taraba State was, no student, no teacher knew. I'm sure similar ignorance is nation-wide. How can Nigerians have patriotic feelings for a country they really don't know? How can this be in 2012? (10)
And then there is economics. In New York, London and South Africa you now find investment bankers and some multinationals bubbling over about opportunities in Nigeria. They visit Lagos and Abuja, and they read the statistics about growth in per capita GDP. They talk about the "burgeoning middle class."
But I remember what Nigeria looked like when it truly had a burgeoning middle class-in the days when north-south highways were being built to open up areas and bring economic activity nationwide. In the days when industries were to be found and growing in many parts of the country, not just the Lagos-Ibadan corridor. In the days when, it's true, telephones often didn't work and power was erratic, but rural electrification was happening. Refineries were being built and petrol and kerosene were available, even if that made for monumental go-slows in Lagos. What has happened to the middle class throughout the country, including its professionals, now?
And what has happened to Nigeria's millions now in shocking poverty, especially in the countryside? Joe Garba gave a speech in Kaduna on 11 September 1979, and what he said then is all the more true now:
I have always believed that the economic and social progress of a developing country such as ours cannot be measured simply by referring to the level of per capita income. I think that what really counts are the visible and tangible signs of progress in the rural areas such as schools, rural health clinics, water and electricity, access roads for easy movement of goods and persons. (11)
Where do we see now what Garba said really counts?
It is a truism that increased pressure on fewer resources produces tension among people, who then find ways to limit competition for opportunities, notably in education and employment. And what could be easier than removing competitors by excluding them for reasons of geography, religion, ethnicity? It happens all around the world, and always against some "other." And the more dire the economic circumstances, the more likely is violence. Fear follows, and often more violence.
It is not hard to see how this has been playing out in Nigeria. Since 1999, conditions for the generality of Nigerians have only worsened, despite revenues from oil that former governments-including the Second Republic's-could only have dreamt of. Is it surprising that violence and criminality have escalated? Even though I believe, as Joe Garba always said, that Nigeria's problems are not-I repeat not--insoluble, problems like these become intractable with the passage of time. Too much time has passed already.
He would, I'm sure, have pointed to the lack of political will, although there is more to the political dimension than that. It is inescapable that during the last ten years politicians have made use of what divides Nigerians to their personal advantage. Though they didn't invent the technique, they have taken it to new levels-I would say depths. Not all, of course, but many, too many. If that, along with the oil revenue and the impunity current and former office-holders enjoy, weaves a rope that binds together the political class nationwide, I submit it is a profoundly negative unity.
Moreover, all this takes place in a global context. Even before the last decade of technological change so rapid and profound that it is hard to absorb its consequences, the end of the Cold War in 1989 changed geo-politics. With the breakup of the Soviet Union, things fell apart; old ethnic identities re-emerged. The United States was not immune. It now had hyphenated Americans, starting, notably with African-American as the newly accepted term for Black, which had earlier replaced Negro, and before that Colored.(12) Most who used it had never seen Africa, just as those now Greek-Americans or Polish-Americans or Nepali-Americans or myriad others had never visited the countries they proudly claimed through hyphenation.
Expatriate Nigerians in the U.S.-the "Nigerian diaspora"-have absorbed this, and often as not will let you know their ethnicity, even if you don't ask. I think this may have begun with the Igbo exodus during and after the civil war, but it escalated with the arrival of assorted "Andrews," the name given to those leaving Nigeria by the Buhari government, pleading with them to stay and build the country. I began to notice a contrast with my own student days, when organizations were pan-Nigerian or even more broadly West African; now most groups of Nigerians in the U.S. were, and still are, ethnically defined, sometimes even sub-ethnically.
I once taught a seminar for history majors whose theme was "Tribalism and Nationalism"-they could do research on it in any time and place that interested them. I would begin by asking my students how they identified themselves, and was surprised when, in the late 1980s, the majority said they were hyphenated-Americans first; only the older students and I said we were Americans before anything else. (13)
All my students did agree they were also New Yorkers, or easterners, or Yankee fans, or Lutherans or one-time Girl or Boy Scouts. And all agreed that it was possible to maintain these different identities at the same time and only rarely, if at all, with conflict: America's good fortune.
For a time Nigerians were similarly able to be, say, a Nigerian and a Northerner and a Tarok and a Catholic without difficulty-that was, of course, Joe Garba. And his choice of close associates underscores how very Nigerian he was: Just one example-the reviewer and co-editors of Joe Garba's Legacy, Ambassador Dede from Edo, Mr. Obaze from Anambra, Captain Tunde from Kwara. Perhaps the only unifying Nigerian passion Joe Garba didn't share was for football-basketball was his sport-but he was as proud as anyone else of Nigeria's Super Eagles' triumph at the 1996 Olympics. And, now that I think of it, has the precipitous decline in the performance of Nigeria's national teams undermined Nigerians' national identity?
In any case, ethnicity was in the global air, along with a renewed stress on self-determination at the expense of previous, broader identites. CNN was reporting on it for all the world to see and hear. It was nothing like what has come with cell phones and the internet, but it did start an unprecedented, rapid spread of global happenings and ideas. New nations began to proliferate, in Central Asia under tight control of dictators, and in the Balkans, violently.
And in South Africa, democratically, achieving at last what had been a major Nigerian foreign policy goal, with no Nigerian more active in and committed to achieving it than Joseph Nanven Garba-as foreign minister, as Perm Rep at the UN and chairman of the Special Committee against Apartheid, as President of the UN General Assembly, and as a well-known figure in the region, asked to quietly assist from time to time. His concern for South Africa's transition and its aftermath were fundamental to his work on southern Africa's regional security in the 1990s, but Nigeria was never far from his thoughts. Indeed, in 1997, he brought together in Abuja for the first time senior military officers from the countries of West and Southern Africa to discuss the security challenges regional organizations were facing and how they might learn from each other. It was a process he hoped would continue.
Another global current—heightened religious tension--has swept much of the world, and Nigeria has not escaped. Not that religion did not feature earlier. The differences in treatment of Christianity and Islam by British colonial officials left Nigeria a legacy that has contributed to Nigeria's North-South problems, notably the relative lack of Western education in the North. It was British policy to prevent Christian missionaries, who brought education with them, from establishing themselves in the northern emirates. That was so as not to disturb traditional Islamic political institutions, through which the British "indirectly" ruled; only the Emir of Zaria allowed an exception.
Later, despite some efforts to represent the civil war as being Muslim vs. Christian, it was not. And though the issue of Shari'a law riled the constituent assembly's debates in 1978, it did not impede the transition to the Second Republic under the 1979 constitution.
But things were changing globally, and with Cold War ideologies and superpower competition virtually gone, religious activism began increasing. As with ethnicity, pent-up energies now went in different directions, often bringing tension, if not outright conflict. Local varieties of fundamentalism were shaking all the world's major religions. American adventures in the Middle East, notably the first Gulf War and the stationing of troops and military hardware, including a heightened naval presence, triggered violent reactions. The 9/11 attacks and the U.S. invasions that followed of Afghanistan and, gratuitously, Iraq raised the temperature among Muslims and Christians far from the events themselves.
In Nigeria ripples from all this flowed into post-1999 politics. Pressure for Shari'a law, criminal as well as civil, popular because it implied that justice would be done where the secular courts had patently failed, swept ten northern states; legal changes to accommodate it followed. Meanwhile, Christian Evangelical and Pentacostal mega-churches were multiplying and proselytizing, pressing northward. It was altogether a combustible mix, and we know today how inflamed religious tensions and conflict have become.
So Nigeria-and, for that matter, Africa-cannot escape the world in its 21st century transitional time, leading to we know not what. The pace of change has never been so rapid; globalization has never been so pervasive. Climate is changing and population is rising. It appears that a new "Scramble for Africa" based, yet again, on extracting its natural resources, is under way, but this time with Asian players prominent.
In all this, only Nigerians can protect their long-range interests, which surely must start with health, education and much improved lives and prospects for all of them. Success must depend on breathing new life into the sense of One Nigeria, where unity in diversity has real meaning for all who live here. It must surely include the careful stewardship of Nigeria's resources for future generations.
In meeting these challenges and more, Nigeria urgently needs the restructuring so much talked about now. But what does that mean, concretely, and what is the way to get there?
Of one thing I am as certain as humanly possible: that Nigeria must remain a united polity, for everyone's sake. Those advocating its breakup do not, I believe, represent the vast majority of Nigerian, and doing so openly, without official reprimand, I find distressing. That such people seem ready to risk the violence, even war, that would surely follow tells me they have no clue-as Joe Garba would put it-about civil war, Nigeria's own or any other.
They apparently do not know about the massive bloodshed that came with dividing India and Pakistan (still threatening to annihilate one another). More recently, bloodshed on a horrific scale marked the break-up of Yugoslavia. And violent conflict is now rife between Sudan and newly-created South Sudan. Those talking of breaking up Nigeria even cite such examples to be followed! God forbid.
A "Sovereign National Conference," based on what are called ethno-nationalities, is not the answer. A national conference could be a constructive forum, depending on how its participants are chosen. But not if it has representation by ethnicity. That simply reintroduces all the problems now evident in endless state creation. How many ethnicities? 400 plus? Who decides which? Only the ones that number in the millions? If so, what about all the other millions? And then, what would emerge from the cacophony that would be bound to follow? I suggest that the "popular" requests that have come to the National Assembly for over 60 new states, gives a glimpse of what it would be. Further, though Its supporters insist it would not lead to fragmenting the country, many fear it would fuel precisely that.
A national conference could not, in any case, be "sovereign," since, as many have pointed out, you can't have two simultaneous, competing sovereign bodies, and, for better or worse, Nigeria has a National Assembly. Using the current constitution, it could provide a way forward, but not if it endorses creating, rather than consolidating, states. And not if it proceeds the way previous amending has gone: bits and pieces addressed, amendments passed-or rammed through-as a group and rubber stamped by state assemblies, without any broad based public ratification.
The current amending process has shown that, so far, political agendas dominate. Nigeria cannot now indulge such narrow priorities on matters fundamental to the country's unity. But to have active politicians, executive branch and legislators alike, set politics aside would mean repealing human nature. I ponder at times how far America's Founding Fathers would have gotten had their constitution-making been done in the public glare and had their main objectives been personal.
I want to come back to Joe Garba, speaking in 1979 about his compatriots; he was trenchant in describing qualities that affect the urgent challenge of restructuring the country:
The Nigerian is perhaps one of the most complex characters in the world. He is vocal, determined and hard-working in the pursuit of his personal or ethnic interests. But he is often destructive in his criticisms of others, and negligent in his dedications to essential national goals and objectives. He is at once sophisticated and crude in his reactions to delicate national issues, but whenever he believes that his legitimate rights are being trampled upon, he is quick to react. This is healthy because free expression of views must obtain in any civilized society (and Nigeria in spite of whatever anyone says is civilized).
The disappointing thing is that Nigerians often react rashly to rumours, founded or unfounded and, without adequately weighing the facts, will proceed to pass judgment accordingly. When you add all these traits to his impatience for quick solutions to complex problems and his almost sadistic delight in seeking punishment for anyone who fails to meet his often inflated expectations, then you have a major and serious flaw in the Nigerian character.(14)
If that rings truer than ever (nowadays Joe Garba would have said "he or she"), it must be taken into account in bringing about the restructuring Nigeria needs.
There is no easy answer-there never is in Nigeria-but I would, hesitantly, offer this thought. As a Nigerian friend recently put it, "We need minds, not mouths!" So, as a first step, assemble a relatively small group of people, similar to the Constitution Drafting Committee in 1976, but with several differences. Participants should be without future political ambition. They must be committed to Nigeria's unity under some kind of federal arrangement but not otherwise constrained. Dare I say they should be wise?
Some should have expertise in constitutional law if possible-a constitution is, after all, a legal document-though they need not all be lawyers. They should include some of the people who have had the practical experience of working with Nigeria's present constitution and know its pitfalls and flaws. Such a group could make use of some of the Belgore Committee's recommendations when they emerge, but its members must go beyond searching for consensus from previous constitutional conclaves, based on simply adjusting the present.
They must open their thinking to what could be new and even drastically different from the present. They must be free to search the world for advice, while realizing that Nigeria is uniquely Nigeria. They could reject models from elsewhere and create something better for Nigerians.
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Accommodating Nigeria's reality should include their best efforts to foresee consequences. Above all, they must be willing to gore current oxen. They would be given adequate time to produce a new draft constitution and allowed to make radical changes, to be popularly accepted or not. But the urgency is clear.
And however unrealistic in a post-18th century constitution, especially here, I should like to plead for brevity. Much in the 1999 constitution should be handled by legislation instead. The most effective democratic constitutions, historically, are either unwritten-hardly practical today-or entrench only broad fundamental principles and institutions, leaving the rest to laws that, especially in a federation, need not be uniform throughout.
Further, it is, I think, offensive to include in a constitution many prescriptions that are now and can in future be repeatedly violated. "It shall be the duty of the State to " is how they begin, and when they are ignored, it undermines Nigerians' confidence in their institutions and increases their cynicism about those who claim to lead them.
We know that internal weakness undermines the ability of any country to play a visible, effective role internationally. It is no secret that Nigeria's effectiveness on the world stage is a shadow of what it was in earlier times, most notably the time when Joseph Nanven Garba was its face and voice. U.S. Secretaries of State Cyrus Vance and even Henry Kissinger, privately reflecting on Nigeria then and now, made clear that what stood out for them was Nigeria as presented-and represented-by Joe Garba. It's only a strong, stable, united, confident Nigeria that can restore its international prominence. Nigeria should be the obvious African candidate for permanent membership on the UN Security Council. Now, it is not.
More urgent even than constitutional reform is to restore security to Nigerians. Give them back safe roads and freedom to move around the country, so vital to rebuilding their economic wellbeing and One Nigeria. Now, when violence and criminality pervade, and the country is more militarized than it was under military governments, fear and anger trump almost everything else.
Beyond that, Nigeria desperately needs strong institutions, and needs more Joe Garbas committed to building them-look at his work to make NDA into a first class university; look at NIPSS. He also had faith in Nigeria's youth-he did not think, nor do I, that means people in their 40s or 50s. I think he would see hope now, as I do, in the behavior of young Nigerians last January, as they engaged in peaceful protests in many of the country's cities, complementing the work, or non-work, of strikers.
Most impressive were the declarations that they would not allow anyone to use religion or ethnicity to divide them. In Kano and Kaduna especially, they were emphatic about respect for worship, with young Christians guarding Muslims at prayer and young Muslims guarding Christian churches on Sundays. Sadly, even tragically, those efforts were curtailed, but not by the young themselves-and worst of all, in Lagos, by military violence.
I hope those young, courageous people began something-a renewed commitment to Nigeria-that will engage more and more of them, and draw in others similarly committed, of whatever age. They need a critical mass to insist on constructive change. But in their efforts are the seeds of "How to be a Nigerian" in the way that Joe Garba quintessentially was.
Jean Herskovits, Nigerian Institute for International Affairs, Lagos. 31 May 2012
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(Title) With apologies to Peter Enahoro, whose classic satire, first published in 1966, bears that title.
2) Risking an Enahoro-prescribed digression, I must stress that an alleged US government prediction of Nigeria's breakup in 2015 bears no relation to either official US policy or belief. It was merely deduced from a comment included in an unclassified summary of an off-the-record meeting ten years ago. Its long shelf-life in the Nigerian press has reinforced a misreading of American intentions and interests. I am pleased that, finally, a complete correction appeared earlier this month in ThisDay of May 15th.
3) Quoted in James S. Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism, Berkeley and Los Angeles, University of California Press, 1958, p, 239.
4) Nigeria: Report of the Commission appointed to enquire into the fears of Minorities and the means of allaying them, p. 87. London, Her Majesty's Stationery Office, 1958. They add this: "It is of the first importance to find means of allaying fears which do not perpetuate differences that might otherwise disappear. This is why we do not accept in its entirety the principle of ethnic grouping, that is, the principle that a recognisable ethnic group should wherever possible form a political unit." (p. 88)
5) I found it interesting to hear Nigerians, living in the US when federal character was introduced in 1979, strongly objecting to it as undermining merit, even while they were vocal in supporting affirmative action.
6) I also did not realize that Nigeria's political parties would function along their earlier parliamentary model, resulting, arguably, in having the worst of both parliamentary and presidential systems. We in the United States are now discovering how Congress can become immobilized when voting is rigidly along party lines, something new to us.
7) I also did not realize that Nigeria's political parties would function along their earlier parliamentary model, resulting, arguably, in having the worst of both parliamentary and presidential systems. We in the United States are now discovering how Congress can become immobilized when voting is rigidly along party lines, something new to us.
8) The exceptions in that vast area are such small groups as the Khoisan of South Africa (better known generally as Bushmen and Hottentots, thanks to the Europeans' inability to pronounce their clicks).
9) In those days a youth corper was assigned purposely to a state neither his or her own nor one bordering it. Those requirements are long gone. And, as I was recently reminded by a Nigerian-American who served far way from his home, the experience was not always positive, cementing rather than removing prejudices.
10) In 1972, when I was doing historical research in what is now Taraba State, friends here used to tease me, saying my job was to teach people where Wukari is. But that was forty years ago! The Nigeria Educational Research Development Council (NERDC) has announced a new curriculum for primary and junior secondary schools. It includes English, mathematics, IT and basic science and technology, and even something called "religion and national values," but not basic history and geography. Premium Times, 9 May 2012.
11) "The Military Administration and the Nigerian Society," a paper presented by Major-General J.N. Garba at a seminar on "A Critical examination of the Main Political, Economic and Social Aspects of Nigerian Society," Kaduna, 11 September, 1979, typescript, p,15.
12) There's unrecognized irony in the new-required description, "people of color."
13) I remember a Russian leader-could it have been Gorbachev?-marveling that the United States, which had the singular good fortune not to have tribe (broadly defined) associated with land, would decide to import the vexing problems others face by creating fragmented national identity.
14) J.N. Garba, "The Military Administration and Nigerian Society," typescript, p.7.
