From 1989 to 1993, General Ibrahim Babangida ruled Nigeria as military president with an iron fist. Under the gap-toothed evil genius, many Nigerians, including high-ranking military officers, were executed before they knew what hit them.
Despite all his many evils, Babangida had promised to return the country to civil rule. To achieve this, he appointed Professor Humphrey Nwosu as chairman of the National Electoral Commission in 1989. He was to oversee the 1993 presidential elections.
To work under a military government is to have a gun pointed at one’s head round the clock. Life under Babangida’s military junta, which had the dark-goggled General Sani Abacha as his enforcer in chief, was no different. Both men formed arguably the deadliest military duo ever to rule an African country under a military coup.
Life under Babangida and Abacha was by no means guaranteed. Living from day to day, especially for those who were in the crosshairs of the dangerously unpredictable military generals, was an extremely complicated lottery. The number of unaccountable deaths tolled in Nigeria between 1989 and 1998 when Abacha died in office, told the story.
So, Nwosu was a marked man from the moment he became military president. Given the brutality of the Babangida regime, refusing to accept the appointment could have had dramatic consequences. Accepting the appointment meant he had to do the bidding of the government or face the consequences of his refusal. At a time when the constitution stood suspended and the military very much ruled with decrees, the choice was clear from the onset.
Yet, Nwosu was able to conduct what has been adjudged the freest and fairest election in Nigeria’s history. That took some real courage at a time when many had fled the country for fear of what the military junta could do to them. At a poignant moment when Nigeria needed someone to defend the last shred of institutional and constitutional dignity it had left, Nwosu stuck around and remained steadfast.
If he could not announce the results because it was either not announcing it or his life, no one can begrudge him for not giving the country his life or the well-being of his family. For a man who had taken such great risks for Nigeria, practically asking for his life was asking for too much.
It is difficult to decipher the motives of those working hard to distort Nwosu’s legacy. Even in a country riven by ethnic and religious divisions, one where bigots pack quite a punch, it would be too simplistic to ascribe the antagonism channelled towards the motion to immortalize Nwosu to tribal or religious prejudice.
When the motion on whether Nwosu should be immortalized came up for debate in the senate recently, it was immediately clear to see how much many of the senators yearned for a scapegoat for the unfortunate events of June 12, 1993.
A month earlier, many of the senators had actively participated or conveniently looked away when General Ibrahim Babangida, the chief culprit of the June 12 crisis, launched a memoir in which he chronicled the events that led to the annulment of the election. Indeed, the Senate president was one of those who contributed to the fundraising that followed the luncheon.
If many of the legislators were willing to give Babangida a soft landing, whether by their acquiescence or silence, why should Nwosu be made to shoulder the blame for the annulment of the 1993 presidential election? Furthermore, who deserves to be honoured in Nigeria at any point and for what? In a country where it is easier to turban hypocrites and trash heroes, it is important that all the necessary parameters are defined.
Nwosu deserves to be immortalized by Nigeria. The crucial role he played in laying the foundations for Nigeria’s democracy must not be overlooked because some individuals have chosen to look through the lenses of prejudice and bigotry alone.
Ike Willie-Nwobu,
