Cameron Duodu
Letter from the North
Nigeria’s new President, General Olusegun Obasanjo, has delighted his supporters by darting straight into the heart of Nigeria’s core problem: corruption.
He has ordered that all contracts awarded and appointments made since January, by the military administration from which he has just taken over, should be reviewed.
By doing this, Obasanjo has put teeth into the promise he made in his swearing-in speech that there would be no ”sacred cows” in Nigeria during his tenure. Corruption, he pointed out, had reached such staggering proportions that even public institutions sometimes had to bribe other public institutions to obtain the services they required.
Obasanjo’s credibility has shot up as a result of the review. For it had seemed that the military administration of General Abdulsalami Abubakar was in a disgraceful hurry to parcel out favours before it left office. Oil lifting and prospecting contracts – the most lucrative business in Nigeria – were announced without the public being told why they were awarded.
This lack of transparency generated gossip. Top military officers, it was alleged, were behind most of the companies that had obtained the contracts. Since those who had financed Obasanjo’s electioneering campaign included some top retired military officers, the inference was that Obasanjo was in cahoots with the Abubakar administration to ”reward” these backers.
This was supposed to prove the theory that Obasanjo’s ascendancy to power was by an ”army arrangement”, whereby the serving army left office only to be replaced by the ”retired army”.
Now Obasanjo is demonstrating that he is his own man. Unless, of course, he is attempting to press into service a time- honoured British method of defusing embarrassing situations. ”Set up a commission of inquiry” could have been the password of British colonial administration. For as soon as such an inquiry began, everyone became happy.
The nattering classes would immediately launch its own inquiry: was the chair the right person? What about the commission’s members? Was any of them a member of a secret society?
All these questions would have to be looked into by the administration. And that takes time, right? Next, the commission would make a well-publicised inaugural sitting. Memoranda would be solicited from the public. The commission would then adjourn for several weeks. Next, there would (probably) be further public sittings. Or evidence could be given in secret. Finally, a report would be issued.
But with the report would come a government ”White Paper” setting out why the government thought the report was wrong on several issues, but would yet accept a selected number of the report’s ”recommendations”. And everyone would sleep better, because ”something” had been ”done” about an issue that had created public ”disquiet”.
Will Obasanjo publish the results of his inquiry or treat it as a confidential government document? The answers to these questions are not yet known. But certainly, he has signalled to the Nigerian public that he is not under the thumb of the military – he is his own man. This should be in character, for ”Uncle Sege”, as he is known in Nigeria, is reputed to be a very obstinate man whose bluntness can cut through the skin of friend and foe alike.
Well, he has one more problem to solve. The appointment of General Victor Malu as chief of staff of the army has not received universal approval. Malu distinguished himself as commander of the West African military intervention force, Ecomog, that brought peace to Liberia.
But he was recalled from Ecomog by the late General Sani Abacha and appointed, in 1997, to head a military tribunal Abacha set up to try his former number-two man, General Oladipo Diya, for taking part in a conspiracy to overthrow Abacha. Diya claimed he had been ”set up” by the then chief of staff of the army, General Ishaya Bamaiyi (just retired), and that Bamaiyi ought to have been brought to the tribunal too.
Malu dismissed this. He had been advised, he said, not to concern himself with those who had not been brought before him.
The result of the trial was no surprise: Diya and many of those tried with him were found guilty and sentenced to death. But Abacha, fearing a furore every bit as rancorous as that which followed the hanging of writer Ken Saro-Wiwa in November 1995, did not shoot them.
The question many Nigerians are asking is this: did Malu administer true justice to Diya and company or did he conduct their trial in a manner he thought would please Abacha? If Malu obeyed Abacha’s wishes – for fear that he might himself become a victim of the dictator’s wrath – is he fit to head the Nigerian army at a time a new attempt is being made to bring the rule of law into Nigeria, and restore competence and integrity to its armed forces?
This will be a particularly poignant question for Obasanjo to answer, for he was personally the victim of a similar kangaroo trial. Abacha stitched Obasanjo up in a ”conspiracy” in which the officer with whom Obasanjo was supposed to have plotted was not even known to Obasanjo. This officer had no knowledge of the chicken farm Obasanjo ran at Otta (where the plotting is supposed to have taken place). And at the time of the alleged conspiracy, Obasanjo was out of Nigeria.
Nevertheless, Obasanjo was found guilty and nearly shot. He served two years out of a 10-year prison sentence and was only released on Abacha’s death a year ago.
Would he appoint those who ”tried” him to powerful positions of trust in the army? If not, why appoint those who tried Diya?