History is often manipulated by those in power, but no amount of revisionism can erase the truth. Ibrahim Babangida’s attempt to justify the execution of General Mamman Jiya Vatsa is riddled with contradictions. His narrative, cloaked in secrecy, collapses under scrutiny. Vatsa’s execution had little to do with national security it was about eliminating a childhood friend who had become an inconvenient presence in the corridors of power.
Babangida claimed there was incontrovertible evidence linking Vatsa to a coup plot, yet decades later, no credible proof has surfaced. The supposed “smoking gun” was a payment of ₦50,000 to Lt. Col. Musa Bitiyong, which Vatsa maintained was financial assistance for a farm project. Even in the 1980s, that amount was a pittance compared to what would be needed to stage a coup, particularly one that allegedly involved airstrikes. Where were the troops? Who were the high-ranking military officers backing him? Where were the arms and external collaborators?
A coup without control of ground forces is a fantasy. Military takeovers in Nigeria have always been led by the army, not the air force or navy. The accused officers, Lt. Col. Michael Iyorshe, Lt. Col. Christian Oche, Maj. Daniel Bamidele, Commander A. A. Ogwiji, Wing Commander B. E. N. Ekele, Wing Commander Adamu Sakaba, Squadron Leader Martin Olufolorunsho Luther, and Squadron Leader A. Ahura were mid-level officers with no command over troops. Vatsa, the only Major General among them, understood that without the support of General Officers Commanding (GOCs), a coup was impossible. Babangida, himself a seasoned coup plotter, knew this better than anyone, making his claims all the more dubious.
Vatsa’s trial was a sham. Conducted in secrecy by a Special Military Tribunal, it lacked transparency, denied the accused legal representation, and rushed through proceedings before a serious defense could be mounted. Even Domkat Bali, a key figure in Babangida’s regime, later admitted the evidence against Vatsa was weak. If Babangida was so confident in his allegations, why not allow an open trial where Nigerians could judge the facts for themselves?
Perhaps the most absurd justification Babangida offered was his claim that Vatsa harbored envy toward him since their childhood days in Bida. He recalled their time at Government College, where he was Head Boy, and insinuated that Vatsa’s grudge persisted into adulthood. This desperate attempt to rewrite history is laughable. Vatsa was a decorated officer, a poet, and an intellectual. To suggest that a man of his stature spent his life consumed by jealousy over Babangida’s leadership is absurd.
If anyone posed a real threat to Babangida’s reign, it was not Vatsa but Sani Abacha. Yet Babangida overlooked Abacha and later admitted he regretted not retiring him. Vatsa, on the other hand, was conveniently eliminated under the guise of national security.
Babangida’s moral posturing about the consequences of coups is rich, considering he himself rose to power through a coup against Muhammadu Buhari in 1985. If plotting a coup warranted execution, Babangida should have faced the same fate multiple times. Instead, he used executions as tools of political survival, showing no remorse for the lives he destroyed.
His handling of Vatsa’s case stands in stark contrast to Abacha’s treatment of Olusegun Obasanjo. While Babangida could have commuted Vatsa’s sentence to life imprisonment, as Abacha later did for Obasanjo, he instead chose bloodshed. This was not about justice it was about sending a message: if he could execute his childhood friend, no one was safe.
The so-called coup against Babangida occurred just six months into his regime, at a time when he was still consolidating power. By orchestrating the executions, he silenced dissent within the military and instilled fear in potential challengers. Vatsa’s death had nothing to do with protecting Nigeria it was a calculated move to fortify Babangida’s grip on power.
Some argue that military leaders from Benue and Plateau states opposed clemency for Vatsa because of his role as the secretary of the tribunal that sentenced the 1976 coup plotters who killed Murtala Mohammed. If true, this adds another layer of political intrigue. Was Vatsa truly guilty of treason, or was he simply a victim of past grudges and military politicking?
Beyond his military career, Vatsa was a brilliant poet, the first Nigerian to publish poetry entirely in pidgin. His literary contributions added to his legacy, making his execution all the more tragic. Nigeria lost not just a soldier but a voice that could have enriched its cultural and intellectual landscape.
Babangida can publish as many books as he wants, but history cannot be rewritten to absolve him of responsibility. Vatsa’s execution was an act of political expediency, not justice. No objective historian will ever conclude that Vatsa had the means or intent to overthrow a government in which he was a key player. The real threat to Babangida’s rule was never Vatsa it was Abacha, and Babangida knew it.
The military years in Nigeria were marked by bloodshed, paranoia, and betrayal. Vatsa’s execution remains one of the darkest chapters, a grim reminder of how power turns friends into enemies and truth into a casualty of politics.
The execution of General Vatsa was not justice; it was a political statement.
In the ruthless game of survival, even friendships are expendable. It showed that in the corridors of power, loyalty is fleeting, and history is often written by those who survive.
Stephanie Shaakaa
University of Agriculture, Makurdi,
Benue State
shaakaastephanie02@gmail.com
