Manifesto for the Nigerian Youth

MANIFESTO FOR THE MODERN NIGERIAN YOUTH

Nigeria ails.

Not from spasms of violence and havoc of all sorts wreaked across the land in the name of whatever cause suits the day. Not the thieving political classes that gorge themselves fat from the blood, sweat and tears of the masses. Not from the countless unqualified servants in the public sector who oil the wheels of corruption, cavorting in bribery while infrastructure collapses all around them. Not from the press who have sold out truth and principles for the leash of vested interest, tribal sentiment and cold hard cash. Not from our security agencies, who at best stand idly by while miscreants unleash civil war upon the land, or worse, are the very agents of mayhem themselves. Not from our religious leaders, who say one thing in public, while in secret they embrace the exact opposite, comfortable in the belief their deeds are hidden from all. Not from the judiciary, the so called ‘last hope for the common man’, where justice is up for sale to the highest bidder and court decisions are more laughable by the day. Friends, Nigeria ails, and the aforementioned are but symptoms of a far deeper lying malaise: an absolute lack of values.

Where we have grown to know the stoic and stiff upper lipped Briton, the efficient German, the unbowed Jew, the passionate Mediterranean, and the patriotic American, we can now add another thoroughly deserved stereotype; the corrupt Nigerian. One who would lower himself to any deed for a price. One who would spurn common good in the wanton pursuit of wealth; sell off his loved ones a thousand times over for a contract, flaunt stolen funds in the most lavish and debauched manner while their countrymen live in squalor.

Friends, Nigeria fell ill the moment we decided public office was more of an opportunity to aggrandize wealth and pilfer funds than a chance to serve the people who elected us. The very moment the contents of a man’s pockets became more important than the quality of his character, we lost our moral compass. The moment we placed a premium on short-term opportunism, as opposed to permanent long-term goals, we lost it big time. The moment our leaders failed to harness our major potential during the 70s oil boom, but chose to empower a kleptocratic ruling class with the resources to further plunder the country. The Guardian (UK Edition) estimates the total amount embezzled from Nigerian state coffers at a mind-boggling 200 billion pounds sterling. Imagine if that cash had been funneled into the educational sector, or into building and improving our refineries, or even into boosting our agricultural potential or even into sports academies and stadia or theatres, anything but festering away in foreign bank accounts. Recently the papers were awash with the news that certain oil companies had allegedly defrauded the nation of hundreds of billions of naira. These are sums of money that would drive an accountant insane, literally, certifiably, stark raving mad. Is there really no limit to our greed? A friend commented after the Dana air crash that corruption has literally begun to kill us. In time past, the link between corruption and the fate of Nigerians may have been murky or tenuous, but no longer. Corruption has begun to indiscriminately murder us.

But what then is our response? What do we do now, after raking over the painful coals of our country’s ills and woes?

Shall we launch our own version of the Arab Spring, camp out in public squares and arenas and chant until the government is brought to its knees? Unlikely, considering Nigerians’ distaste for long-term inconvenience or discomfort. After all, labour strikes in Nigeria follow a well-defined pattern; total shut down for about three days, then on the fourth or fifth day a ‘compromise’ is reached between the government and the rotund, fresh-faced leaders of labour, and it’s business as usual. Shall we take our chances in the courts of law? Good luck with that, considering the near impossibility of finding worthwhile evidence against the powerful, especially in Nigeria. Even if you are blessed enough to have your day in court, what are the odds that the judge deciding your case has not been compromised?  I propose something far more subtle and yet far reaching; continuous and relentless self education. Become a human black hole for information; analyze every syllable that proceeds from our leaders’ mouths and scrutinize everything you read in the papers. Admit that you are biased; not to worry, everyone is, but at least strive for objectivity in your dealings. If you get a chance to study abroad, grab it with both hands. If you get a chance to learn something new, get a new experience, don’t dawdle; go for it. The world and especially this nation owe us nothing. Of course Nigeria has suffered more than her fair share of poor leadership and blatant thievery, and perhaps the knee-jerk reaction would be a loud and vocal revolution, a call to arms as it were. I dare you to do one better: make something of yourself, become the kind of person that cannot be ignored, shut down or shut up: a force to be reckoned with. Thus you will not need the loudest voice to be heard, but you will be blessed with the best criteria of all: relevance. After all who would you rather listen to; a raving has-been complaining about the ills of the country or the success story who made it despite said ills? Credibility, or at least what passes for it in our country is the currency of power. It is not enough to possess a fat bank account or a famous surname; you must have the courage to do what is necessary. And believe me; we will all need courage in the days ahead. Let us ask of no man, woman or child what we cannot do ourselves. But if we are steadfast, we will make a better, greater country.

This revolution will definitely not be televised, nor will it be emblazoned across the Internet. The revolution will begin with you. The country will change when we ourselves begin to change. It is ludicrous to expect a national paradigm shift when we are unprepared to make any sacrifices of any kind. Begin with the little things; keeping your word, showing up on time, keeping your environment (and person) clean, do the job for which you are paid, don’t pretend to work. Let us pay heed to the little changes, I assure you, the large changes will take care of themselves. There are no quick fixes in life; nothing that’s worth it ever comes without a sacrifice. Let us no longer be deceived by silver tongued politicians who promise much but deliver little. Let us not be swayed by thieves who seek to plunder our coffers under the cover of religious or ethnic idealism. The time has come to act, think and believe for ourselves; in our fathers’ time, our country degenerated from a potential economic and military firepower to an international basket case. What will our children say about us?      

         

Welcome to the Jungle

Welcome to the jungle: a take on the aluu lynching.

 Like most Nigerians you probably woke up on Monday morning (October 8, 2012) to the news of the young men from the University of Port-Harcourt that had been murdered by a mob that had accused them of the theft of some laptops and mobile phones. This was on the heels of the killings of scores of students at the Federal Polytechnic, Mubi, and rightfully, Nigerians of every stripe were horrified by the gruesome scenes played on our television and mobile screens, as four young men were bludgeoned to a mere mockery of their humanity and then set ablaze. I was in Lagos when the story broke, and the media was awash with the lurid scenes. Someone obviously had decided that the event was historic enough to deserve coverage, and felt compelled to share his/her ‘masterpiece’ with the rest of the world. Like wildfire, it spread; another reminder of the real facts of life in Nigeria, 52 years after independence. Welcome, then to the jungle.

The facets to this story are numerous as they are convoluted; some accounts claim the young men were cultists from the university; others label them mere victims of circumstance, trapped in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some say the police were alerted while the young men were still alive and their reply was the usual tardy response, conveniently arriving after the carnage. Others claim the killings had the tacit approval of the police. However, of the following we can be sure:

a.    Four young men were killed in brutal display of mob rule.

b.    The assailants were members of the local community.

As expected, the deaths provoked national outrage and revulsion, with many Nigerians clearly upset and distressed, alarmed by what seemed to be a throwback to the dark days of mindless fury and barbarism. In the days and weeks ahead there will no doubt be some soul-searching, probing and deep questioning. It is our sincere belief that Nigerians will not waste this opportunity to have a serious look at our collective psyche as a people, and offer valuable solutions to what is quickly becoming a frightening and recurrent malaise. For a nation highly adept at sweeping things under the carpets of ineffectual committees, this act is far beyond the pale, and cannot, should not; suffer the neglect of issues past.

One of the worrying subplots emerging from this unfortunate occurrence is the fact that this particular community had been plagued by armed robbers, a fact said to be made known to the local law enforcement agents. Apparently no action was taken, and in the vacuum created by the lack of proper authority, the community probably sought out ways to protect themselves. Self preservation is the right of every individual or community and where constituted authority fails to address that demand, the repercussions are there for all to see. Let me be clear though, self preservation is no excuse for cold blooded murder and there can be no reasonable justification for shedding innocent blood. But we would be remiss if we fail to even consider the reason why Nigerians have zero confidence in the organs of law enforcement, resorting to a locally manufactured brand of retribution. As I listened to the radio that Monday morning, numerous callers made their anger known, but others (while sympathetic to the deceased) lamented the state of affairs that led to the happenings, i.e. the impotence of the law in the face of violent crime. The frustration in their voices was painful to hear; one caller spoke about how robbers beat up her aged mother during a raid, another spoke about the poor response of the police during a robbery, in which a 70 year old man had run to the police station to plead for assistance, only to be told he could expect no help without providing some financial incentive. The community was forced to arm themselves and confront the criminals. In the resulting melee, the robbers fled, leaving one of their number behind. As was expected, the thief was beaten, but then left alive and conscious, awaiting the belated arrival of the authorities. Suddenly a man rushed at the thief and, in front of everyone, slit his throat. When asked why he had done so, the man pointed to a cut on his head, saying it had been inflicted by the robbers with a machete when they attacked his home. They had tried to rape his wife, and whilst intervening, (successfully) he had been injured, albeit almost fatally. How then could he allow such a creature, one who sought to molest the mother of his children (and murder him to execute the deed) live? Such is the dilemma faced by Nigerians in their millions, thus the proliferation of small arms and security personnel in our communities. Have we forgotten the reign of the Bakassi Boys in the South East, especially in the early days of our current democracy? Are we aware of the number of private armies in our country that are answerable only no one but their masters? Do you know the lengths people are willing to go to protect their loved ones?

Long have we complained about the security challenges facing our country, and part of the solution is equipping and training our security agencies, so they are armed with the necessary tools to fight crime and defend our homeland. Corrupt officers must be named and shamed, regardless of rank, religion or ethnic group. Funds meant for the police and other organs must be judiciously spent and accountability must be given pride of place. One way or the other, we are all affected; the next life lost in a security breach could be our own.