A friend once shared that if someone is fortunate enough to spend many years in Nigeria, they might see the devil rise from the grave, only to be freshened up by Nigerians. The recent assembly of notable figures on February 20, 2025, for the launch of Mr. Maradona’s book aligns perfectly with this idea.
To be frank, the recent publication of a book titled “A Journey in Service” by former military leader General Ibrahim Babangida (Rtd) feels like a betrayal to the countless individuals who suffered due to the annulment of the June 12, 1993, election. For those who may not be familiar with this pivotal moment in Nigeria’s history—whether because they were born after it occurred or were too young to comprehend its significance—it is important to provide some context.
The June 12, 1993, presidential election in Nigeria was celebrated for its fairness and transparency until it was nullified by then-military ruler Ibrahim Babangida. This decision ignited widespread protests and social unrest, leading to a tumultuous political climate. The aftermath of the annulment saw a crackdown on the media, resulting in the arrest and exile of numerous journalists. Activists, including the winner of the June 12 election, Chief Moshood Kasimawo Olawale (MKO) Abiola, faced imprisonment for advocating for the election’s legitimacy. The consequences of this annulment were dire: dreams were crushed, lives were lost, and many activists were forced into exile. Some were imprisoned, enduring severe conditions that permanently affected their health, including blindness from prolonged solitary confinement.
Now, more than three decades later, General Babangida has released a book that seems to attempt to reshape the narrative of those chaotic times, compelling us to reevaluate our perceptions of history. The recent launch of General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida’s (IBB) book, A Journey in Service, could have served as a reflective memoir but rather became a book that appears to have opened old wounds, particularly regarding the infamous annulment of the June 12, 1993, presidential election—a decision that remains etched in the annals of Nigeria’s history as one of its darkest moments. The June 12 election, widely regarded as the freest and fairest in Nigeria’s history, was not just a political event; it was a watershed moment that symbolized hope, democracy, and the aspirations of a nation. Unfortunately, the chief architect of the disaster brought together his friends and sycophants to tell us what we knew all this while; that Chief M.K.O won the election without blemish. However, the Junta blamed the annulment on late general Sanni Abacha whom I believe must be turning in his grave at this moment. It is on record that the only election not rigged in the history of Nigeria was the June 12, 1993, presidential election. Chief MKO Abiola won convincingly and even defeated his opponent Bashir Tofa in his own ward and constituency in kano State. It was a landslide victory that remains in our memory.
In his book, IBB seems to deflect responsibility for the annulment onto the late Sani Abacha, a move that raises eyebrows and invites criticism. This tactic of scapegoating the deceased is not only disingenuous but also cowardly, as it denies the victims of that tragic decision a voice in the discourse that follows. Abiola’s victory was a beacon of hope that was extinguished, leading to untold suffering, loss of lives, and the stifling of dreams for countless Nigerians. The ramifications of that annulment are still felt today, as the nation grapples with the consequences of a democratic process thwarted.
What is particularly disheartening is IBB’s delayed acknowledgment that M.K.O. Abiola indeed won the election. This admission, coming 32 years later, feels like a feeble attempt at redemption rather than a genuine effort to confront the past. In more accountable societies, figures like IBB, who have played pivotal roles in such destructive events, would find it impossible to stand in the public eye, let alone launch a memoir that seeks to rewrite history. Yet, in Nigeria, the book launch was attended by a cadre of elites and politicians—individuals who have flourished amidst the chaos that ensued from that fateful decision. Their presence underscores a troubling alliance, one that celebrates the very architect of a national tragedy while conveniently glossing over the suffering of the masses.
The military regime under IBB implemented one of the most prolonged and costly transition programs in Nigeria’s political history, ultimately cut short by the dictator’s reluctance to give up power until his fortunes changed. During his administration, IBB played a significant role in the decline of the national currency.
For those of us who experienced the June 12 crisis, the memories are still fresh. I vividly recall the distress of my school mates at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife, who found themselves entangled in political upheaval, facing sudden campus closures and the heartache of loss. Institutions were abruptly shut down, and students were ordered to leave with little notice to prevent any further crises. I remember walking approximately 10 kilometers from the OAU campus into the inner city of Ile Ife, waiting for a truck meant for transporting livestock to take me home. While I made it back, some of my school mates tragically lost their lives on their journeys. Innocent students endured brutal treatment at the hands of ruthless military personnel along the way. All this turmoil stemmed from one man’s decision to sow discord in a land that should have been peaceful. It is this shared history of trauma that IBB and his cohort seem all too willing to overlook in their pursuit of self-aggrandizement.
The gathering of the “billionaires club” at the book launch, where money was raised for a man who significantly altered the destiny of a nation, is a stark reminder of the moral decay that permeates our political landscape. It shows perfectly a picture or reflection of the perfect problem with Nigeria. It is a mockery of the struggles of ordinary Nigerians who continue to bear the brunt of decisions made by a few in the corridors of power. The applause and accolades bestowed upon IBB are not just a celebration of his narrative, but rather an indictment of a society that often forgets its history in favour of convenience and profit.
Nigeria was never intended to function as a cohesive nation. Instead, it operates like a well-structured cartel, where power is distributed akin to inherited family wealth, and riches are created in clandestine settings behind closed doors. During the regime of Ibrahim Babangida (IBB), Nigeria experienced some of its most prosperous economic moments. Oil revenue surged, and the country reaped significant benefits from the Gulf War. However, the citizens were shocked to discover that an astonishing $4 billion in oil profits from that conflict had mysteriously disappeared, with no explanation from IBB. I hope the new book contains answers to the question on disappearance of the gulf oil windfall which I doubt.
While it is remarkable that IBB would attempt to alter the narrative of his past in his declining years, it is not surprising that politicians across the nation still seek his favour. They all have good things to say about IBB. The military junta actually made them what they are today. They even donated over N16 billion to IBB’s presidential library during the book launch.
As we reflect on the legacy of June 12, let us not allow IBB’s 420-page memoir to distort our collective memory. The truth of that day and the days that followed cannot be rewritten or erased. We owe it to the memory of those who lost their lives, to the dreams that were shattered, and to the future of our nation to remember and honor the past. In doing so, we may begin to heal the wounds that IBB’s narrative seeks to reopen. Nigerian elites and politicians believe most Nigerians have short memories but for few of us that are not suffering from dementia, we knew what happened with June 12 and history cannot be rewritten by a 420-page memoir written by the chief architect of the June 12 disaster.
