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Tag: Azu Ishiekwene

  • The trouble with Tinubu – By Azu Ishiekwene

    The trouble with Tinubu – By Azu Ishiekwene

    Almost everyone thinks they know what is wrong with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and his government, except Tinubu himself. And to show that it’s not just bellyaching, there are plenty of examples to beat the president over the head.

    Headline inflation has risen from 22.2 percent in April 2023 to 33.7 one year after – and is still growing – while attempts by the government to tame it have been largely ineffective. Food inflation has nearly doubled. The naira has been devalued by 70 percent in one year, and poverty levels, even among the once-comfortable urban population, have risen dramatically. Hardship has never been starker.

    But that’s not all. Where Tinubu promised leaner government parastatals, they have increased. The talk about cutting the cost of governance is being crushed under the wheels of longer executive convoys and a parliament out of touch.

    Events around the continent, especially in West Africa, where Nigeria is supposed to be a powerhouse, offer little comfort. On Tinubu’s watch, and some might even add, because of his mishandling, three countries – Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso – have pulled out of ECOWAS and formed a band of rebellious Sahelian states. 

    And on the continental stage, Nigeria has dropped from Africa’s largest economy to number four, a blow that a country with an oversized ego can still not reconcile with.

    Crucify him

    If one called for nails to crucify Tinubu, volunteers would supply more than enough to cover every inch of his body, with bags of it to spare. You will be reminded that this was self-inflicted misery when he removed the petrol subsidy on day one and attempted to merge the exchange rate without a clear plan.

    That’s just as well. I can’t wrap my head around some of the events that happened in the last year. And I can’t remember how often I have asked if this is the same Tinubu I’ve known since 1998. Well, it’s the same Tinubu, more or less. It’s the same Tinubu, seasoned and buffeted almost equally from age and circumstance in a country that has also changed by far greater measure in the last nearly three decades!

    Tinubu asked for the job, so there can’t be excuses for why the country is in such misery. It’s, however, fair to say, almost at the risk of attack, that those who judge Tinubu harshly underestimate the determined, active efforts of interest groups – both from within and outside his government – to ensure that he fails, despite his best efforts.

    The heart of the matter

    His government’s two most consequential decisions – announcing the removal of petrol subsidy and attempting to create a more transparent exchange rate system – touched a raw nerve. The biggest beneficiaries, primarily wealthy, powerful and deadly people across the country, but particularly in the North, are determined to fight his government to a standstill. 

    The pattern of last week’s #EndBadGovernance protests showed where poverty was starkest. But it also showed the locus of misdirected anger and resistance to change. 

    The anger was against Tinubu’s policies. But much more than that, it implicated sections of the Northern elite who have, over the years, underdeveloped and impoverished the region, primarily by playing the ethnic and religious card and refusing to be held to account. This same elite was on a roll last week, issuing Russian flags to protesters and pontificating how Tinubu had lost his way.

    North’s misery

    Things didn’t become suddenly hard for the North under Tinubu. As Kingsley Moghalu said four years ago, when Nigeria displaced India as the world’s poverty capital under the government of President Muhammadu Buhari, the North, regrettably, also became the poverty capital of the poverty capital, with the incidence of poverty up to 80 percent in the North-west.

    Decades of the elite prioritising politics and a sense of entitlement over production and accountability have radicalised millions of young people without hope or a future. Their anger should have been directed at the elite responsible for the mess. 

    Unfortunately, the same elite stoked the discontent, capitalised on it and managed to frame it as evidence of Tinubu’s unfitness for office. And people who used soldiers to crush swathes of the civil population when they were in power are now teaching us lessons on civil management of public protests. The truth is more nuanced.  

    The handling of the protests in several states was incompetent, disgraceful and indefensible. Nothing justifies using live rounds against primarily unarmed people expressing their right to dissent. It’s a disgrace that live rounds were used to disperse mostly unarmed crowds, as a result of which about 13 people were killed. 

     However, the suggestions that people with a sinister agenda sponsored the violence in several Northern states to destabilise Tinubu’s government and divert attention from their complicity in our current mess should not be dismissed out of hand. 

    Elite wars

    It only takes a cursory look at the sections of the elite worst hit by the removal of the subsidy and the attempts to streamline the forex market chaos to understand why they won’t give up without a dirty fight, whatever the cost. Those who think it’s in their power to determine who rules and how long took advantage of the protests to fire warning shots about what they’re determined to do, if not sooner, then by the next election.

    Kenya, the UK, and, later, Bangladesh have been touted as models for managing dissent and examples of what may happen if a government fails to listen to the people. While economic hardship is the common thread, those who cite these examples in Nigeria ignore the sinister role of interest groups that fear a prolonged loss of political power.

    Insects within

    Yet, suggesting that outsiders caused all of Tinubu’s woes would be foolish. Amid the chaos of last week, there were members of his cabinet who were more than delighted that the pressure might finally compel the president to review his government’s “tight-fistedness”. Under Buhari, the Ministry of Finance released quarterly capital votes to ministries and government departments, and they didn’t have to account for it.

    Under Tinubu, however, the Ministry of Finance tightly controls releases. Payments are only made after projects have been verified and certificates of completion issued. It’s not the kind of thing people who are used to easy money would be happy about. Beneficiaries of the previous order will resist this change or stand idly by when the government is under attack.

    What team?

    The part of the whole business that I find troubling is the quality of Tinubu’s cabinet and inner circle. If it was a joke to please certain interest groups when he came to power last year, it has become an embarrassment. He has paid them what he owes, with interest.

    With a few exceptions, his team is neither valuable for the country nor serviceable for a president in an emergency. Where did he find these people? And how long will he keep them as passengers on a train to nowhere, putting at risk his reputation as an excellent talent hunter?

    I guess that the #EndBadGovernance protest will not be the last. One can only hope that lessons have been learnt and concrete steps will be taken to implement them for the benefit of citizens. That would be the biggest test of his presidency.

     

    Ishiekwene is Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and author of the new book Writing for Media and Monetising It

  • The price we pay when legislators die – By Azu Ishiekwene

    The price we pay when legislators die – By Azu Ishiekwene

    We met last on April 21. I went to Asaba from Lagos to promote my new book, Writing for Media and Monetising It, at Delta State University, which, according to JAMB statistics, is one of the country’s highest subscribers to Mass Communications in 2021.

    Senator Ifeanyi Ubah was on the flight to Asaba that morning. I didn’t see him until we entered the arrival hall. He seemed to have added some weight for a man his height. I teased him about his robustly prosperous looks. He replied that journalists like me tend not to add weight because we’re too busy causing trouble, to which I replied that he should not go there.

    We laughed and parted ways outside the terminal building. And then, on July 26, news broke that he had died only days after arriving in London. A few days earlier, he shared a video of himself looking slimmer than when I saw him in Asaba in April. He videoed himself singing on a London street with his family, and everyone looked happy.

    Gone too soon

    He was 52 and only reelected to the Senate last year under the Young Progressives Party (YPP) platform before he defected to the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC). Ubah was the fourth member of the current National Assembly to die this year, bringing to 29 Federal lawmakers who have died in office from 2015 to date. 

    The others who died this year were Isa Dongoyaro, APC member of the House of Representatives representing Garki/Babura Federal Constituency, Jigawa State, who died on May 10; Ekene Adams of the Labour Party, representing Chikun/Kajuru, Kaduna State, who died on July 16; and APC member Musiliudeen Akinremi, representing Ibadan North Federal Constituency, Oyo State, who died on July 10.

    It’s not just the number of deaths that is striking. None of all four legislators who died in office this year was up to 55. The outlier was the Federal legislator Abdulkadir Jelani Danbuga, an APC member from Isa/Sabon Birni, Sokoto State, who passed away in October at 64. He died three months after he was sworn in, bringing the total dead in one year to five. 

    At 52, Ubah was the oldest federal lawmaker who died in office this year. Dongoyaro was 47; Adams 39; Akinremi 51. 

    By life expectancy projection, you could argue that for a country with a life expectancy of 52 years, the average age of the deceased legislators shouldn’t be too unusual. Yet, if a company specialises in life policies for lawmakers, the recent events may force it to review its premium. 

    Beyond the numbers

    There are 469 lawmakers in both chambers of the National Assembly, with the states proportionally represented in the Senate. Representation in the House of Representatives is based on population (favouring the North), among other factors.

    However, the constitutionally provided numerical advantage for the North only partially explains the higher proportion of legislators who died in office from the region since 2015. 

    When I raised the trend of sitting legislators dying at relatively your age, one immediate response was that it’s the prayers of discontented, ordinary citizens at work. Divine recompense, if you like. Why wouldn’t the discontents come out to vote or hold their representatives to account instead? 

    I have only anecdotal evidence to support my theory, but the trend elsewhere does not support the view that the deaths of our lawmakers in office are the outcome of spiritual warfare. If religion or culture plays any role at all, it reinforces conditions that not only potentially increase the chances of early deaths but also increase the casualties among the affected population.

    Different elsewhere?

    What do the statistics elsewhere show? According to the Congressional Research Service, 84 U.S. Congress members – 69 Representatives and 15 Senators – died in 39 years between 1973 and 2012. The average life expectancy was 72, similar to that of white males in the larger population. 

    In 2015, relevant data about members of the British House of Commons between 1945 and 2011 showed that mortality among the 650 members was 28 percent lower compared to the general UK population. The figure in South Africa showed that in its Fourth Parliament 2009-2014, out of 103 members of parliament replaced, 18 passed away, four of them in car accidents.  

    The common causes of death in these countries range from coronary artery disease to cancer, especially in the U.S. and the UK, to complications from HIV/AIDS in South Africa to diabetes, kidney-related diseases and accidents. 

    Because of the availability of data in these countries, it is possible to determine the cause of death and take steps to enhance safety, well-being, and longevity. It’s different in Nigeria, where disclosing the cause of death is treated as taboo. 

    Cost of taboo

    The norm, not just in the legislature but in the broader population, is not to discuss it – an attitude more prevalent in the predominantly Muslim North, where deaths are accepted as “the will of God”, and any discussion of a post-mortem is out of the question.

    Such cultural attitudes, reinforced by religion, tend to encourage poor record keeping and further nudge the population to ignore pre-existing health conditions in the fatalistic belief that “something must kill a man” when early detection or greater care could have prevented fatality. A cultural taboo that is useless to the dead and increasingly expensive for the living needs to be reviewed.

    It’s bad enough that sometimes bereaved families have to bear the avoidable losses of loved ones. In the case of legislators, the death of sitting members also has consequences for the constituents and the electoral management body. The constituents are deprived of representation, and the electoral management body has to conduct by-elections.

    In the last election cycle in 2023 alone, N335 billion was budgeted for elections. Still, that sum, later supplemented with N18 billion due to inflation, was not entirely for the general election but also for by-elections that have become a norm. 

    Court-determined results, political appointments, and, increasingly, deaths have increased legislative turnover and turned the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) into one of the world’s most overworked and undervalued election management bodies. It’s a thankless job.

    New approach

    We can’t continue this way. Small changes could start with journalists understanding that it is vital to get and include the cause of death in their reports instead of allowing prevailing taboos to take them hostage. Of all five deaths, including Ubah’s, there was not a single case in which the press reported the possible cause of death. 

    The data of consequential deaths for Nigerian lawmakers cited earlier do not include deaths of sitting members in state houses of assembly, seven of which occurred in the last nine years, bringing the total recorded in that time to 36. 

    Knowing the cause might not raise the dead; it might help the living take greater care.

    The process for replacing dead legislators also needs to be reviewed. We have a system that makes everything expensive and unnecessarily complicated. The Constitution stipulates a by-election on top of other by-elections to fill vacancies for political appointees and court-ordered reruns. Three senatorial by-elections in any state are equivalent to the cost of a governorship election. 

    Beyond the tears

    One way to reduce such unnecessary costs is to use the example of Germany, New Zealand or South Africa, where the next candidate on the party’s list takes the deceased’s place. Or to allow the party to nominate the replacement for the deceased since a candidate holds the seat at the party’s pleasure. 

    Beyond the tears of this mourning period, we should find a sustainable way to fill parliamentary vacancies. That’s one way to honour the memory of Ubah and the other dead members of the National Assembly. 

     

    Ishiekwene is the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and the author of the new book Writing for Media and Monetising It

  • NNPC vs Dangote: Where the truth lies – By Azu Ishiekwene

    NNPC vs Dangote: Where the truth lies – By Azu Ishiekwene

    Africa’s richest man, Aliko Dangote, is not a stranger to adversity or its more sinister cousin, sabotage.

    One of the bitterest battles he has fought in the last 25 years – the cement war – was against his kinsman and founder of BUA Group, Abdulsamad Rabiu. Folks close to both men have tried to patch them up, but the embers are still smouldering. 

    Dangote’s face-off with the Kogi State Government under former Governor Yahaya Bello over rights and royalties from Dangote Cement, Obajana, for the local community, was a skirmish compared to the cement war with Rabiu.

    Wealth and comfort can be strange bedfellows, often mutually exclusive in the quest to conquer one mountain after the other. Dangote knows this only too well. And nowhere has the lesson been more evident than his pursuit to own a refinery. 

    Just like that?

    I told this story before in an article in May 2023. In the twilight of the Obasanjo administration, the government sold off two of Nigeria’s moribund refineries – Port Harcourt and Kaduna – to Blue Star, a Dangote-led consortium. Blue Star paid $670 million for the plants and walked away, thinking the deal was done. It wasn’t. 

    In 2007, the government of Umaru Musa Yar’Adua capitulated. It refunded Dangote under pressure from labour unions and vested interests in the refineries on the excuse that the assets were “national patrimony” that should not be sold, “just like that!” It didn’t matter that at the time of sale, both refineries produced less than 20 percent of capacity without hope or promise of improvement.

    Dangote took his money and walked away, bruised but unbowed. Six years later, he announced plans to build a private refinery, first in Ogun State, and later, he moved it to Lagos with a capacity of 650,000 bpd – over 200,000 more than the installed capacity of Nigeria’s four refineries combined.

    Single train revenge

    Dangote’s single-train refinery, originally estimated to cost $12 billion but finished at around $20 billion, is now at the centre of another storm. It’s not about International Oil Companies (IOCs) he accused of trying to undermine him. It’s the more deadly variety of wars: the one from within.

    The regulators, particularly the head of the Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority (NMDPRA), Farouk Ahmed, said in a television interview in the State House with the NNPC Group CEO, Mele Kyari, present, that Dangote Refinery was making products with unsafe Sulphur levels, and also trying to monopolise the industry.

    Ahmed can raise valid safety concerns as a regulator and call out a monopoly. The Petroleum Industry Act (PIA) provides safety standards and a price reflexive framework to prevent a monopoly. Under the Act, the regulator is empowered to act in the interest of consumers and fair play.

    Sulfurous things and backstory

    Ahmed didn’t say precisely what the tolerable Sulphur level was or provide evidence that Dangote was trying to become a monopoly. Instead, he contradicted himself by mentioning at least two other refineries, Waltersmith and Aradel, operating at different capacities. If this were a chat in a beer parlour, it would be pardonable. 

    But to think that the head of a regulatory agency will levy an accusation of unsafe Sulphur levels and offer no response when he was told that neither his agency nor the NNPC had a laboratory is scary. I’m not sure why Kyari stood beside him, grinning. Or why the State House posted the video on its official handle.

    But the whole show leaves a bitter, corrosive aftertaste of sulfurous proportions. 

    Dangote has been accused of many things. He has been accused of feeding off government indulgences, from waivers to tax breaks and preferential forex allocations, even though he was not the only beneficiary. Even the 20 percent stake in the Dangote Refinery, which we are now told the government paid only 7.2 percent, left many questions about that transaction needing to be answered.

    On another front, some have accused Dangote of hedging his bet poorly in the 2023 election that brought President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to power, unlike his adversary, Rabiu, who appears to have hit the bull’s eye.

    Unkindest cut

    But none of these charges is as unkind as those of Ahmed, who, if shame still means anything, should not have uttered the first letter of the “S-word,” never mind the phrase “Sulphur levels.” I’m not sure he can find his way to a viable lab owned by NMDPRA or NNPC because there isn’t one. The regulators rely on third-party labs in Lagos, such as GMO, Sewort, SGS, and others, to vet its imported petroleum products.

    Yet, Ahmed chooses to publicly discredit, without proof, products that we are told have been repeatedly ordered by TotalEnergies and BP, among others. 

    In response to a question from a LEADERSHIP reporter on Tuesday about whether NNPC has a lab, the corporation said, “NNPC conducts rigorous testing on all its products to ensure they meet global safety and quality standards,” adding that NMDPRA can provide verified data through regular official reports. What does that mean in English? 

    A regulator’s record

    And Kyari seemed pleased with this scandalous drama even though NNPC, which he superintends, has spent about $25 billion in turnaround maintenance of moribund refineries in the last 25 years, plus the recent $1.5 billion spent on his watch for more turnaround. One of the subsidiaries, PHRC, employed 487 new staff four years ago and paid N23 billion in salaries without producing one litre of petrol. 

    All that consumers are asking for, after losing a significant part of the battle for price, is the availability of petroleum products. God knows what they are getting under the current monopolistic system, which permits NNPC to play around with import licences, are long queues, contaminated products, and a regulator mockingly claiming to be a public company. 

    Suppose Dangote Refinery is in breach of any regulations; what steps have the regulators taken to call the refinery to order or help them overcome, except if they claim there was evidence of a malicious default? Our officials spend hundreds of thousands of dollars touring the world for foreign investors only to chew local investors with a microphone in a fit of what? Rage, sabotage, indiscretion or stupidity?

    Feuding parties

    The closed-door meeting among the feuding parties, which Tinubu ordered on Monday, may keep them on a leash for a while, but it hardly addresses the underlying issues. If products from the Dangote Refinery currently exceed the Sulphur levels – as Dangote had also said on a different occasion – why can’t the regulator work with the refinery to fix it without a scandalous press conference?

    And is the talk about monopoly a fear-induced trope? How can Ahmed even speak of a monopoly when supply is hardly available, and the current distortionist-in-chief is NNPC, the sole importer of petrol and sole awarder of import licences for diesel?

    It doesn’t smell good. Dangote Refinery is only 45 percent complete – the entire plant? Yet, Kyari and Ahmed joined former President Muhammadu Buhari in commissioning the plant last year? Seriously? 

    After years of working with petrol importers in his former life as the chief executive of PPMC, Ahmed is struggling with his new role as a regulator. He deserves public sympathy and can get it without being a retailer of beer parlour gossip or a bagman for vested interests.

     

    Ishiekwene is Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and author of the new book Writing for Media and Monetising It

  • In this difficult marriage, Democrats must love Biden – By Azu Ishiekwene

    In this difficult marriage, Democrats must love Biden – By Azu Ishiekwene

    The assassination attempt on former President Donald Trump on July 13 at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania has sucked the oxygen from the debate on President Joe Biden’s fitness for a second term. The discussion will resurface, but Democrats should forget it. The party is stuck with Biden.

    The odds are daunting. It must feel like a difficult marriage heading for a shipwreck. However, with only four months to the election, facing the odds is the only way to overcome them. Expectedly, Biden doubled down on his decision to run after the presidential debate with Trump left the president looking like the victim of a car crash.

    He has tried to redeem himself several times and has snagged on his speeches every time. Yet, despite his frail health, stumbling speeches, and the mocking caricatures in the media, Biden insists he would stay in the race.

    “I know I’m not a young man,” Biden said after the debate with Trump. “I don’t walk as easy as I used to. I don’t speak as smoothly as I used to. I don’t debate as well as I used to, but I know what I do know — I know how to tell the truth!”

    Stuck on him

    As doubts about his fitness persist, one truth that he weighs is whether it’s in his party’s best interest to run. With a heavy heart, it’s fair to say that the answer is yes. Democrats are stuck with Biden. However worrying the prospects of a defeat – particularly a defeat to Trump – might seem, Biden’s candidacy still gives the party the best chance to win or rebuild.

    Some think Biden should let Vice President Kamala Harris run. She has received support from members of Congress, especially from her state of California, women organisations, progressive activists, and sections of the Asian American community.

    Her supporters have given reasons, from her relatively younger age to the likelihood that, given her background as a prosecutor and Attorney General, she would pay more attention to issues like criminal justice reform, immigration and healthcare. Others have added that her ethnic nationality would bring diversity to the ticket and energise Latinos, Asians and Blacks, who are increasingly important demographics among voters.

    Others, like Illinois, Pennsylvania, and Michigan governors, have also been mentioned as possible Biden replacements, but none would appear as viable as Harris. Yet, for all the promises she offers, there are many reasons Biden, instead of Harris, remains the Democrats’ best card.

    Remember Hilary?

    Hilary Clinton, former First Lady and Secretary of State, apart from being a senator, a white woman and one of the best-kept secrets of the deep state, could not defeat Trump in 2016 because America was not ready. It was unprepared to discard the bogey of an “evil” Clinton dynasty. It was – and still is – unprepared for a female president.

    Sure, more women are serving in the US Congress today, and voters’ attitudes toward having a female president have slightly improved. But not so fast when a woman of colour is on the ballot.

    We never know what might have happened if Hilary challenged Trump again in 2020. But she declined not only because the previous contest had left her with deep emotional scars but because the Democratic party had also come to the inevitable conclusion that in what was supposed to be a post-modern society, gender – and the elephant in the room, race – remained a big issue.

    It’s unlikely that Harris would succeed where Clinton failed, a hint that may also be responsible for Michelle Obama staying out of the race despite her popularity in the opinion polls.

    Harris’ bonafide

    Harris’ slim chance against Trump has little to do with her credentials. She was a former Attorney General and senator from California who formed a bipartisan coalition to enact a $1 trillion investment in infrastructure to remove every lead pipe in the US. She has also been on the frontline to reform the healthcare system, especially among the vulnerable, and reduce gun violence, among other things.

    On a typical day, Harris is an asset to the Democratic party and might still be for some time. But this November election is an unusual one. America is deeply divided, and trust in politics is so severely broken that a Wall Street Journal poll indicated that even though this is the first presidential rematch in five decades, nearly 10 per cent of voters are still undecided.

    That shouldn’t be because voters have records to judge the contestants: Trump, the demagogue, cut taxes for the middle class and massively removed regulations, among other things; Biden, on the other hand, has recorded two crucial years of job growth in a long time and managed to keep the economy steady, despite the supply chain disruptions of COVID-19. Inflation has taken a significant toll on families but could have been worse.

    The jury is out on voters’ feelings, especially where it matters most: their pockets. Although the demographics of the undecided population – less educated, less wealthy, less politically aware and engaged, less interested in politics, but definitely more diverse – should favour Harris, the “silent voters” or “hidden Trump voters” who blindsided pollsters and torpedoed Clinton eight years ago are still alive and well.

    Teflon Trump thrives in scandals. Today’s Feeble Joe is not the same Biden who faced Trump four years ago and got away by the skin of his teeth. While he is weaker, frailer and poorer even at sharing his accomplishments in the last four years, his opponent, Trump, has been emboldened by his worst excesses. The race for the US presidency is a match-up between horror and uncertainty.

    Strength in weakness

    Yet, Biden’s weaknesses, especially his common touch – not Harris’ strengths – are the Democrats’ most potent weapon against a candidate who would lie, cheat, inflate, incite and routinely invent stories to get by. It’s a hard thing to say, but Biden, with all his frailties, is the medicine for Trump’s demagoguery.

    Biden stepping down at this time will further weaken and divide the Democrats, giving them very little time to rally before the election. And if the worst, a Trump victory happens – which I think is improbable – then the party would have the chance to rebuild from its potentially less fragmented ruins.

    What’s in it for Africa? Heads or tails, not a lot. Trump made clear that it was America first and last and the rest of the world, especially Africa, was shithole. Some still romanticise the Biden Senate years, when he spoke against apartheid, railed against injustice in the Middle East and pursued global peace through multilateralism.

    A new Biden

    That was then. The Biden of the last four years has massively funded Ukraine’s senseless war with Russia, a meat grinder if ever there was one, and paid scant attention to Africa. He has also proved utterly ineffective in getting Benjamin Netanyahu to stop the killings in Gaza.

    The election in November is not about Africa. It’s about whether an exceptional country that lost its way in 2016 – with horrific consequences for the rest of the world – is determined to lose it yet again.

    Ishiekwene is the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP

  • Ajibola Ogunshola: Triumph of the non-newspaperman – By Azu Ishiekwene

    Ajibola Ogunshola: Triumph of the non-newspaperman – By Azu Ishiekwene

    I’ve written this before. Ten years ago, but this man’s story is new every time. To me. And to many who have crossed his path. On his 80th birthday on July 14, I’m repeating this story with the zeal and delight I shared it ten years ago:

    If the lot had fallen on Chief Ajibola Ogunshola to be the undertaker, not many would have blamed him for the fate of PUNCH.

    He was 40 when he was appointed director. Though he was a star in the insurance world (former Managing Director of Niger Insurance) and one of Africa’s leading actuaries (a consultant to the UN on pensions), he did not know jack about newspapers, if you get what I mean.

    For the three months that I worked in PUNCH as an intern in 1986, after Olatunji Dare’s note paved the way, our paths did not cross. The Aboderin family was still in turmoil after the passing of the founder, James Olubunmi Aboderin, in 1984 at 49 years of age.

    Aboderin, an accomplished accountant at National Bank, was an extraordinary man whose presence and legacy were legendary. At the time, co-founder Sam Amuka (fondly called Uncle Sam) had left, but a relic of his time, like the famous armchair tucked away in a room in the last office at the old wooden building, was still there.

    After the founder’s death, Ogunshola’s uncle, Moyosore Aboderin, who took over, invested quite a fortune to turn the company around, but the prospects remained bleak. The destiny of the Aboderin publishing empire – quite formidable in its heyday – now rested mainly on the shoulders of a 43-year-old non-newspaperman.

    I returned in 1989, this time as a reporter. At that time, you could gauge the public mood or government temperament by the writings of newspapermen, whether in the Tribune, Sketch, Triumph, Daily Times, New Nigerian, Newbreed or Newswatch.

    PUNCH was also a significant force. On the Board were the likes of Dr Lekan Are and Lolu Forsythe, who, together with those in the editorial department, especially Najeem Jimoh and Ademola Osinubi, would be instrumental in helping Ogunshola rebuild in the years ahead. However, the company’s redemption was squarely the burden of this non-newspaperman.

    He turned this “disadvantage” into an incentive. He became an avid consumer of the news and how it is produced, distributed and consumed, letting facts and figures show the way. Most of all, whenever decisions were made, he ensured execution with ruthless efficiency.

    I learnt of one rare occasion when Dr. Are – perhaps the most feared and respected in equal measure on the Board – brought an advert for publication. Are handed the copy to the editor (in the presence of Ogunshola) and asked him to publish the next day. There was no discussion of payment. The Editor was afraid to ask.

    When Are left the office, Ogunshola asked the editor about payment.

    “I didn’t ask him, sir,” the editor replied.

    “Well, go and tell him it will be paid for.”

    The editor rushed after Are, who returned with him to the office, obviously upset.

    He asked Ogunshola if he had sent the editor after him.

    “I did, boda,” Ogunshola reportedly responded firmly but politely. “You remember that we agreed at the Board meeting that all adverts must be paid, without exception.”

    Are opened his wallet and wrote the cheque.

    I am trying to remember which of my stories or feature articles first caught Ogunshola’s attention. I was a small fry, unconcerned about what was happening at the top. But, somehow, Ogunshola noticed.

    After I had been in the PUNCH for nearly one year, the Editor, Osinubi, told me that the chairman was gathering materials for a book. He wondered if I could help with research.

    I was confused. At the time, Ogunshola had the reputation of a taskmaster amongst staff. When he took over as Chairman, he sacked 400 or so of the 600 staff members in one day. I thought sending me to his Ajele, Lagos office was putting me on the supplementary sack list.

    But I met a completely different man. He is challenging, deep and engaging – a man who calls a spade by its first name. I spent the next 18 months in his office researching, asking questions and taking notes. This was the inside story of how court battles, family feuds and not a few frenemies brought Aboderin’s dream dangerously close to the edge.

    We toyed with a few names for the book, and I think he finally settled for Against All Odds – a fitting title for a book that never was.

    If he didn’t restart the book on his 70th birthday, it’s improbable he would do so now.

    “I have cleared my library substantially,” he told me at the height of COVID-19 in 2021. “I do only essential reading and retain the most important records.”

    He has left a trove of living words in my heart with chapters to read for a lifetime. I still have one of his lectures, “Lessons from the 2014 National Conference,” delivered at the Second Chief Chris Ogunbanjo Lecture Series on May 18, 2017.

    I believe there is no better summary of the National Conference than the one provided in Ogunshola’s 16-page lecture. I have carried it in my bag for seven years and used it very often, especially on matters related to restructuring.

    Before measurement became a hot topic at international journalism conferences, Ogunshola insisted that “what cannot be measured cannot be rewarded”. He infused PUNCH with the values of innovativeness and a near-obsession for rational thinking. His work ethic makes you strong if it doesn’t kill you.

    He is a man of strong views. He resents tardiness, collectivism and all shades of intermediaries in a way that reminds me of Thomas Sowell’s contempt for collective bargaining.

    He waged trade wars against newspaper agents and advertising agencies for fairer commissions or more transparent practices. Some of these were solo wars, which earned him powerful enemies, while a few were under the umbrella of newspaper publishers, of which he was president.

    Apart from the crisis after the death of the founding chairman, perhaps one of the most challenging wars was the one against the military. PUNCH was shut down thrice, the third and longest under General Sani Abacha, which lasted 18 months.

    There was pressure on Ogunshola to beg Abacha. He refused, insisting that the newspaper had done nothing wrong. It was a very, very tough call. I remember him saying afterwards, “If the closure had continued for another three months, the paper would have gone down irretrievably.”

    But he stood his ground, and the rest is history.

    At 80, he is slowing down. But thanks to a lifestyle of moderation, contentment, and empiricism – a decent amount of money to keep him as well as he can be at 80 – he looks good for another 10, at least.

    The non-newspaperman has paid his dues, with some change to the bargain.

    Long may your legacies endure, Baaroyin of Ibadan!

    Ishiekwene is the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP

  • Olatunji Dare: To repay is to owe more – By Azu Ishiekwene

    Olatunji Dare: To repay is to owe more – By Azu Ishiekwene

    Ten years ago, this article appeared under a different title, “The Debt I Owe.” Professor Olatunji Dare was 70 at the time. Ten years later, on Dare’s 80th birthday on July 17, I’m republishing the article with minor changes. 

    Without this man, I might have turned out to be a literary plumber or perhaps a motor park journalist, but nothing near the second-eleven of a craft that I owe so much. I have also attached a fairly comprehensive file record of Dare in case my updated article is deficient – as I’m sure it is: 

    I met him in 1985. I was in Mas 101 freshman journalism class, and it was my first lesson and first encounter with the University of Lagos lecturer.

    He wiped the board clean and wrote the course title and his name, “Dr Olatunji Dare”. He then turned to the class and asked us to introduce ourselves and say why we were there. Writing out his name seemed familiar, but asking us why in the class seemed strange.

    One by one, we introduced ourselves, each with his own story. Some chose to study journalism to get a big chance to travel far and wide. Some hoped that a career in journalism would bring them face-to-face with rich, influential and powerful people. A few said they wanted to report the rich and powerful and become rich, influential and powerful.

    Dare listened patiently, showing no emotion, only motioning from row to row until the last student spoke.

    Then silence. I still remember how he shook his head and, with a severe look, said he was either in the wrong classroom or many of us had missed our way. 

    Journalism could take you places. It could bring you face-to-face with the rich and powerful. It could even make you famous if you worked hard enough, with some luck. But those who thought here at last was the lottery to money, riches, and fame should perish the thought. Our road would be rough, and there was free advice on how to think again.

    “And if it would make it easier”, he said, “I’m willing to help you get the Faculty Officer to arrange a change of course for you!” 

    A number of us didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. No one would likely take up his unsolicited offer of help, but that, for me, was the baptism needed for the journey ahead. Over the next three years, I developed a closer relationship with him and was especially fascinated by his teaching style and commitment to his students.

    He would pose out-of-the-text questions and challenge us to solve them; he would ask about journalists whose names we had never heard of, like Oriana Fallaci, and point us to her famous interviews with Ayatollah Khomeini or Muammar Ghaddafi. He would send us out to file reports about campus life, and when we turned them in, he would return our scripts bleeding in red ink.

    I still remember Dare refusing to mark our scripts once, and when we pressed him, he responded that the copies were so bad he would have shortened his life by at least 10 years if he read them all! 

    And boy, was he funny! He would walk into the exam hall and say there was no need to worry about failing. If you couldn’t answer any exam questions, you could write your own questions and answer them—no need to panic or faint in the hall. And he would say it with a straight face!

    I remember turning in a term paper in which I had boasted I would score an A. As I submitted my paper in his office at the pre-fab of the Mass Communication building and made to go, he called me back. 

    There was a visitor with him. “Azu,” Dare began, looking very solemn, “what have you been reading?” 

    Finally, here is my chance to showcase my latest collections! 

    “Oh, I have been reading David Copperfield, sir. Copperfield by Charles Dickens.”

    He looked up from my script, shook his head, and laughed the way only Dare could laugh – from his stomach up and rocking with delight. 

    And then, looking at me, he said, “It’s not showing at all! I can’t see any trace of Dickens in your script. This is a classic example of disco journalism!” 

    He handed back my script and gave me another chance to rewrite it.

    I left his office devastated but knew he meant well. The repeat copy so pleased him that he urged me to adapt it for publication under his watchful eye. It turned out to be my first published article in the priceless op-ed page of The Guardian. I’ll always remember.

    I have followed his writings since and often imagined myself a wannabe satirist. Once, when he wrote about stalagmites and stalactites in his Tuesday column in The Guardian, I couldn’t figure out where that came from until later found that he taught science subjects in a secondary school before he became a lecturer.

    I still remember the note he gave me on the back of his complimentary card to Nojeem Jimoh, then Editor of PUNCH. That note gave me a shot at my first vacation job in a newspaper in 1986. 

    The note would not only land me a vacation job, and later a full-time job, but it would also open the door for me to meet the former chairman of PUNCH, Ajibola Ogunshola, one of the men who would shape my thinking and career profoundly for the next several decades.

    …Dare on File

    He is one of Nigeria’s best-known journalists, journalism educators, and public intellectuals.

    For nearly a decade, he served as editorial page editor and chair of the Editorial Board of Nigeria’s leading newspaper, The Guardian, where his award-winning and wide-ranging weekly column, severe and satirical, attracted a broad, appreciative national audience.

    His weekly column for The NATION, now in its 14th year, is of the same vintage and has drawn high praise for its insights and felicity of style. To mark his contributions to journalism and to public discourse in Nigeria, 20 of his contemporaries, colleagues and former students on three continents in July 2014 presented a festschrift on his 70th birthday titled Public Intellectuals, the Public Square & The Public Spirit: Essays in Honour of Olatunji Dare.

    In 1995, he was awarded the Louis M. Lyon’s Prize for Conscience and Integrity in Journalism by the Nieman Foundation at Harvard University, recognising his steadfast commitment to journalism’s best practices.                                                                                                                

    In 1994, Nigeria’s military government shut down The Guardian because of its editorial outspokenness.  The military authorities made it clear that if The Guardian apologised for its past conduct and promised to be less outspoken, it would be allowed to resume publication.

    Eager to resume business – The Guardian was the most successful of his many commercial ventures – the publisher, Alex Ibru, led a team of executives to the head of the military government, Sani Abacha, in keeping with Abacha’s demand. 

    Dare refused to join the team and resigned, pointing out that a newspaper that had always insisted on the importance of the rule of law should not enter into a bargain that effectively eviscerated the rule of law.

    Unable to find meaningful media work and facing constant harassment, Dare left Nigeria in 1996 to take up a faculty position at Bradley University, Peoria, Illinois. The Hammet/Hellman Grant for Courage in the face of Political Persecution, presented by Human Rights Watch, recognised that phase of his career.

    While teaching at Bradley, he continued to be engaged in journalism, writing weekly columns for attentive audiences in Nigeria and on the Internet.  In the summer of 2000, he served as an editorial writer for The Seattle Times, based on a competitive fellowship awarded by the American Society of Newspaper Editors.

    Previously, he conducted journalism workshops in Zimbabwe, Ghana, and Nigeria.

    Dare earned the first-ever First Class (summa cum laude) degree in Mass Communication from the University of Lagos, Nigeria, where he subsequently became senior lecturer in journalism.  

    He also holds a Master’s degree in Journalism from Columbia University in New York, where he was the prizeman in Editorial Writing, and a Ph.D. from Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana, with twin concentrations in International Communication and Public Policy.

     

    Ishiekwene is the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and author of the new book Writing for Media and Monetising It

  • Rishi Sunak’s next life – By Azu Ishiekwene

    Rishi Sunak’s next life – By Azu Ishiekwene

    British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak came to the job as an afterthought, yet his days in Number 10 were numbered before he received the ceremonial blessings of King Charles III.

    For a long time after Brexit, the Tories and sections of the British public, still in post-Brexit ecstasy, were madly in love with Boris Johnson. He was incompetent and a congenital liar but a good poster boy of that era. After David Cameron fell on his sword, the Brits wanted someone to extend the comedy of post-Brexit, and Johnson was a good fit. 

    Then came COVID-19, a global crisis that tested the leadership of nations. Johnson, US President Donald Trump, and Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro were perhaps among the world’s most incompetent leaders of the pandemic era. Their denial and mishandling of the situation took a tragic toll on their citizens. 

    The former Sunak

    In Britain, Sunak was Chancellor of the Exchequer at the time. While he let his appetite for beer get the better of his judgment once or twice during the lockdown, his boss, Johnson, observed lockdown rules only in the breach. As the British economy – like economies around the world – reeled under the effects of COVID-19, Johnson, the sailor of the British ship, was floating on his sea of beer in garden parties while, at the same time, asking people to keep the rules he was breaking. 

    Much of the credit for steering Britain through that problematic time must go to Sunak, whose programmes, including £330 billion in emergency support for businesses and a furlough scheme, helped keep the country afloat. 

    Of course, it was only a matter of time before the chaotic Johnson era ended. You would think Sunak would naturally step in, given his outstanding role in managing the COVID-19 crisis and his sound knowledge of the economy.

    But no. The mild air of xenophobia, which was also partly responsible for Brexit, had heavily infected Tory backbenchers, too. Even though Sunak’s parents (with Pakistani and Indian roots) immigrated to Britain from East Africa in the 1960s, in a world where you discount identity politics at your own risk, there was still a certain “otherness” about Sunak’s ancestry, his family fortune and his Hindu religion, that made the British establishment uncomfortable.  

    Britainistan

    With Sadiq Khan as London Mayor, Suella Braverman in the Tory top brass and Hamza Yousaf highly placed in Scotland – not to mention Savid Javid and Priti Patel – the rising profile of Indians and Pakistanis, the Raj-anisation of British politics, real or imagined, was a concern. But there was even a more profound concern – the rising economic clout of these ethnic minorities.

    In 2017, the Indian diaspora in the UK was estimated to contribute around six percent of the country’s GDP, and by 2019 the combined wealth of this ethnic nationality was estimated at £338 billion. With an average income of £34,300 in that same year, British Indians had the highest average income among ethnic nationalities in that country.

    When it was time to replace Boris Johnson, the country that copied Piper’s art from Egypt and popularised it didn’t need anyone to tell the Tory party that handing over the keys of Number 10 to Sunak could signal the echo of an unfamiliar tune. They kicked the idea of having Piper Sunak further down the road.

    Liz mishap

    Instead, they settled for Liz Truss, a former rebel and basher of the Crown, but a Brit, through and through, to lead the party. Truss didn’t last; her incompetence threatened to bring Britain to its knees. The Tories soon got rid of her, but apart from further endangering the British economy, her brief reign had also emboldened the Labour Party. Keir Starmer, Labour leader and the next British Prime Minister is a gift to Britain from Tory hubris.

    After the fall of Truss, with the Tories bereft of options and confronting the threat of an early election, backbenchers exhumed Sunak to clean up the Augean stable. Things were so bad two years ago when Sunak was chosen to lead the Tories that The Economist’s October 19, 2022 edition likened the situation to Britaly, a sarcastic reference to the carnage in Italy in the 1940s. 

    Inflation in Britain was at a record high, with basic foodstuffs and energy prices going through the roof. About 33 percent of the population outside fixed mortgage contracts was struggling to pay, and the British economy, which was 90 percent the size of the German economy, had shrunk to 70 percent. 

     Sunak record

    The story is different today. Inflation is down 2.8 percent, compared to around 8 percent two years ago, and unemployment is also down. The British economy is more robust than two years ago, and fewer people outside fixed mortgages struggle to pay. All of that would hardly matter now. As Britain goes to the polls, Sunak has only one in four chances of keeping his seat, and the Tories are bracing for one of the worst defeats ever in nearly two centuries. 

    Fourteen years of Tory reign have tested the party’s ingenuity and revealed its resilience, especially in the wake of COVID-19 and the aftermath of Russia’s war in Ukraine. But the years have also revealed Tory dark racial underbelly and brought upon it the inevitable consequences of overstay and familiarity. The party was rotting from the inside. Sunak only managed to defer its eventual collapse.

    But Sunak was not a saint. He was not altogether blameless. Those who cheered the rise of the first non-Caucasian to Number 10 are shocked that the pair of Sunak and Braverman, both ethnic minorities, has inflicted a human repatriation policy worse than anything known in recent history. 

    Weep not Africa

    Africa will not shed a tear at his departure. The continent owes him nothing. In his two-year premiership, he only used “Africa” when discussing the UK-Rwanda asylum repatriation in Parliament. His nearest visit to the continent where he was born in 1980 was at the English Channel, from where immigrants were bundled off to Rwanda in defiance of the rulings by the European Court of Human Rights (EUHR) and the UK Supreme Court.

    His penchant for dodging Parliamentary scrutiny, the perception that he lacks the common touch, and his inability to rein in party rebels have also combined to put a nail in his political coffin. 

    But Britain will remember him as a godsend in its hour of need. I’m not too worried about what’s next for Sunak. A brief look at what far less gifted former British Prime Ministers are doing shows that he’ll be all right. 

    Next life

    Boris Johnson earns significant amounts from speaking and writing, as do Gordon Brown, David Cameron and Teresa May. Tony Blair, unfairly despised as the poodle of George Bush because of the war in Iraq, even earns up to £200k for a single speech and has the Tony Blair Institute, which advises governments worldwide.

    This must feel like a funeral moment for the Tories and the obsequies of the third prime minister in five years. But Sunak is young and immensely gifted. He is not finished quite yet. His death might have been slightly exaggerated.

     

    Ishiekwene is the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and author of the new book Writing for Media and Monetising It.

  • The book after Trial of Nuhu Ribadu – By Azu Ishiekwene

    The book after Trial of Nuhu Ribadu – By Azu Ishiekwene

    It was different 16 years ago. Very different. At that time, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) was relatively new and walking where angels feared to tread. That was unusual for a government institution, especially a law enforcement agency.

    So unusual that one of Nigeria’s most courageous social crusaders, Gani Fawehinmi, a thorn in government’s side, joined forces with the commission in the fight against corruption even when the man he loved to hate, Olusegun Obasanjo, was president.

    But you couldn’t blame Gani. The first decade after transitioning to civilian rule in 1999 was an “enough moment” for Nigeria. It was a time when it became clear that among the country’s many problems, corruption would either kill it or it would have to kill corruption.

    Like Ribadu, like Githongo

    Nuhu Ribadu, an assistant commissioner of police from a family with a distinguished record in the security services, had the most unwanted job of being the first chairman of the EFCC. He took the job when his counterpart in Kenya, John Githongo, was famously saying the most significant threat in fighting corruption is corruption itself. It would fight back.

    Githongo was right. Corruption in Kenya fought him back so furiously that it exiled him to the UK. You can read the rest of the story in Michela Wrong’s It’s Our Turn to Eat. To help Ribadu deal with his own misery back home, the press pitched in big time. It took it as its own war to the point where the commission was often accused of media trial.

    I felt obliged to document parts of that era in the book The Trial of Nuhu Ribadu: A Riveting Story of Nigeria’s Anti-corruption War, published by Spectrum Books. That was in 2008, when, as my mother would have said, the world was asleep. There was no Instagram, and Twitter was only two years old. 

    Mack Zuckerberg was 19, and Facebook was four. That was the era when respectable newspapers scooped one another by paying the author to be the first to serialise the book, while street rags ripped the same book for fast bucks. I know that thanks to technology, there has been a somewhat deadly mutation, but that’s not where I’m going. 

    Journey to a sequel

    My point is that when I wrote my first book 16 years ago, the options and opportunities for sharing – or promotions – were minimal. Of course, big-time authors sold in millions even decades ago. But newbies like me still struggled with only perhaps a cat hell’s chance of making their voices heard. Not so anymore. 

    That’s one of the reasons why promoting my new book, Writing for Media and Monetising It, has been different. Unlike The Trial of Nuhu Ribadu, which you’ll have to scratch your head to remember if it was ever written and who the author was, this new book has been in your face from day one!

    I have thoroughly enjoyed the experience of promoting it – being in front, sharing moments with followers and readers whose feedback, sometimes hilarious, sometimes cryptic, but mostly enthusiastic, has been altogether encouraging. After seeing the promotional videos, some folks have even jokingly asked if I had not missed my career train!

    Beyond Nollywood things

    Much of the impact of the promotional tour resonated during the public presentation of the book in Abuja on Wednesday, June 26 – an event that had one of the best collections of professionals and persons from all walks of life. It was conceived, developed, and executed by friends working assiduously in the background with LEADERSHIP and Premium Times Books.

    You’ll have to believe me when I say Writing for Media and Monetising It is much more than the stunts and amateur videos. It’s a book written from my heart. The Trial of Nuhu Ribadu is different, not for a shortage of heart but for the nature of the narrative. It’s a snapshot of what, at the time, was an evolving history.

    This new book was, to paraphrase Francis Bacon, part of the repayment of the debt to my profession. I wrote this book to give back to the craft that fostered me.

     The change we’re living through is relentless, a point poignantly made by Dr. Reuben Abati, who reviewed the book, and the cross-generational panel of discussants chaired by Professor Abiodun Adeniyi. There is a shortage of resources, especially for young journalists, writers, and content creators, who must adapt well to the changing seasons. This book tries to fill the gap.

    As contained in the statement by PT Books when the book was released, “navigating the exciting maelstrom that the media – and its various iterations or strands of practice – have become.” I couldn’t agree more.

    Clear, simple and concise writing is a craft. Writing for Media and Monetising It, is not only about such writing. It is also about how to get compensation for it. 

    What’s in a book?

    The book provides a step-by-step approach, with many examples and insights on media law, writing for impact, syndication, generative AI, and managing feedback and trolls, among other things.

    The unique quality of the book is that it combines the seasons that fostered my career, to borrow from Sonala Olumhense’s blurb, with a narrative of how younger writers can take advantage and be rewarded by evolving trends in the media.

    This 15-chapter book also benefits hugely from interviews with some of the best, from Abimbola Adelakun, Fisayo Soyombo to Ruona Meyer and from Farooq Kperogi, Sam Omatseye to Toyosi Ogunseye, and Pulitzer Prize winner Dele Olojede, who gave an interview for the first time in 13 years.

    One matter that has come up repeatedly, both before and after the presentation, is whether it is possible to “make money” in the media today and, if so, whether that point is sufficiently addressed in the book. Unlike The Trial of Nuhu Ribadu, which tries to capture an evolving attempt to tackle systemic corruption and its inherent challenges, the new book examines the threats and opportunities in the media. Even though it focuses on journalists and journalism, its broader scope is how to get reward for literary work, especially in a convergent world.

    The heart of the matter

    The summary of the Minister of Information and National Orientation, Mohammed Idris, was that “The book significantly closes the gap between practice and entrepreneurship – a gap that has impoverished the media industry!” Of course, the media is not the only “victim” of the harsh economic tide. 

    But the point in Idris’s intervention, amplified by the panel comprising Kadaria Ahmed, Ahmed Shekarau and Emeke Ishiekwene, is also about adaptation and research – metrics that need not only be measured by the quantum of immediate financial gains. Scale, niche and leverage of a content creator’s cultural assets will deliver benefits, ultimately.

    So, what next? That was another great question after Wednesday’s presentation. Will it take another 16 years before a sequel? There’s never been a holiday between The Trial of Nuhu Ribadu and Writing for Media and Monetising It. But this work, which greatly benefited from the interviews and resources of great content creators, strongly suggests that to be more, we must challenge ourselves to do more!

     

    Ishiekwene is the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and author of the new book Writing for Media and Monetising It.

  • Idris chairs unveiling of Writing for Media and Monetising It

    Idris chairs unveiling of Writing for Media and Monetising It

    The Minister of Information and National Orientation, Alhaji Mohammed Idris, will chair the unveiling of Writing for Media and Monetising It, the new book on getting rewards from valuable content written by the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP, Azu Ishiekwene, and published by Premium Times Books.

    The event will take place on Wednesday, June 26, at 10 am at the Yar’Adua Centre, Abuja. A “two-in-one event”, it would also feature a panel discussion themed “Reflections on the Media.”

    A statement by Azu and Premium Times Books described the unveiling as “one of the most genuinely anticipated events in the media in the first half of 2024.”

    “We are delighted,” the statement said, “that after weeks of promotional efforts and reviews to highlight a book that offers significant value and reward for content creators, especially the media, the public will finally get this book in their hands.”

    Vice President Kashima Shettima, known for his love of the literati, is expected as the special guest of honour. Chairman of the event, Idris, said of the book: “It significantly closes the gap between practice and entrepreneurship – a gap that has impoverished the media industry.”

    Also expected at the event that will be hosted by the Chairman of LEADERSHIP, Zainab Nda-Isaiah, are the Publisher of Vanguard, Mr. Sam Amuka; the Chairman of TRUST and NPAN President, Malam Kabiru Yusuf; and the Founder/CEO of Premium Times, Mr. Dapo Olorunyomi.

    Other publishers, media owners and top executives, including the Founder of Folio Media Group and NPAN Treasurer, Mr. Fidelis Anosike, are also expected.

    ARISE News anchor and journalist Dr Reuben Abati is the book reviewer, while the panel on media comprise the founder/CEO of RadioNow 95.3FM, Ms. Kadaria Ahmed; professor of Mass Communication/Dean of Post-graduate School, Professor Abiodun Adeniyi; Editor-In-Chief of PUNCH, Mr. Adeyeye Joseph; CEO of Aegis & Blue, Mr. Emeke Ishiekwene; and newly graduated Mass Communication student, Miss Chisom Ukomah.

    In feedback that signalled a wider interest in the book outside the media, some present and former governors, ministers, heads of parastatals and agencies, captains of industry and NGOs, and members of faith-based groups are also expected to attend.

  • A reckoning in June – By Azu Ishiekwene

    A reckoning in June – By Azu Ishiekwene

    It’s been 31 years since a seismic event triggered by the June 12, 1993 election nearly brought Nigeria to its knees. The presidential candidate of the Social Democratic Party (SDP), M.K.O Abiola, was on the cusp of a resounding victory when the military government of General Ibrahim Babangida interrupted and later annulled the election. 

    That action sparked nationwide protests that ultimately consumed Babangida’s government and his successor, General Sani Abacha. It set the stage for a transition that, over Abiola’s dead body, produced Nigeria’s luckiest former military leader, Olusegun Obasanjo, as civilian president in 1999.

    Every May – and later June – since then, Nigeria has marked its successful transition to democratic rule, the most extended 25 years of unbroken civilian administration in its 64-year history.

    How far?

    But the lingering question remains: how democratic have we truly become? If the martyrs of June 12 could witness the nation’s current state, would they have made the same sacrifices? Is this the Nigeria that the survivors, still bearing the scars of the struggle, fought for? Would some of the beneficiaries, now in their 30s, sometimes question the validity of the struggle? Do they even care or remember? These are complex questions with no easy answers.

    This week, I read two significant articles that left no doubt that Nigeria is in a tough place. The point of the articles is that democracy is more than campaign promises, more than periodic elections, and much more than the absence of military rule. It’s a system that is currently under severe strain in our country. 

    The first, by the New York Times, was entitled, “Nigeria Confronts Its Worst Economic Crisis in a Generation.” Citing the widespread hardship, the newspaper said, “Nigeria is facing its worst economic crisis in decades, with skyrocketing inflation, a national currency in free-fall and millions of people struggling to buy food. Only two years ago, Africa’s biggest economy, Nigeria, is projected to drop to fourth place this year.” 

    A country adept at coping with misery, the paper said, appears to have reached its wits end.

    The second article was by Jonathan Power, one of Europe’s most knowledgeable writers on foreign affairs and a friend of Obasanjo. 

    In his article this week, “Democracy on the Run?”, Power cited Freedom House and several other reports that indicated a qualitative and quantitative decline of democracy in several countries, including Nigeria, because of “a lack of vigorous policy implementation and good public administration.”

    We know what we know

    We don’t need foreign newspapers to tell us. The daily lives of most Nigerians today, whether at home, school, work or in the market, tell the story unedited. And folks are beginning to ask, first in whispers and now in louder, angrier tones, what is the point of democracy that does not put food on the table? 

    China is not a democracy, but it runs a system that has lifted millions out of poverty and has created the largest middle class in the world. Its science, technology and infrastructure investment makes the United States look like a third-world country. Nor was Singapore a Western-type democracy when it leapt from third to first world under Lee Kuan Yew. And Libya’s best years yet were under Moammar Ghaddafi. 

    Impatience with democracy has also led to a rash of military coups in several African countries – actually seven in three years in West and Central Africa – led by soldiers who seem to be succeeding in dragging the continent back to the era of military demagogues. 

    They use the same messianic rhetoric, but only this time, they are succeeding far more easily because, as we say, reason flees the head when hunger enters the stomach. Flawed elections are making matters worse.

    Matter of framing

    But are we framing the question correctly? Is autocratic rule in whatever guise – including the Rwandan variant that extends one-person rule in the middle of the game – superior to democracy simply because of stability and an appearance of material prosperity? 

    And, in any case, is the problem with democracy, or is it a matter of performance? In other words, isn’t it the quality of governance that makes democracy meaningful?

    For all its progress, and it’s a lot, I would still not trade democracy for autocracy – whether it’s of the variety of its poster boy, China; its latter-day nationalistic face, Russia; or its pseudo-domesticated cousin, Rwanda. 

    Nigeria is far from the promise of 1993 or 1999, but it has produced some of the world’s most insulted presidents who, by and large, we can still call goats and get away scot-free. That’s not a trophy. It’s not a substitute for bread and butter, either. But you never know the value of free speech, association or movement until these rights have been abridged or taken away.

    World not smiling

    The point is weariness – not necessarily with democracy, but with performance – is not only a Nigerian thing. A Pew Research Center study in December 2022, which covered 19 countries from Sweden and Singapore to Canada and from the UK and South Korea to the US, France and Spain, showed mixed outcomes in satisfaction with democracy and political efficacy.

    While only 20 percent were not satisfied in Sweden, and 43 were not in Canada, for example, the figure in the UK was 46 percent, 56 percent in France, 62 percent in the US, and 68 percent in Spain. The 19-country median was 48 percent – a weak pass. 

    Citizens were generally dissatisfied by polarisation, exclusion, inequality, corruption and lack of trust. 

    Nigerians are unhappy, not with democracy, but with the failure of performance. For example, an Afrobarometer survey of 2022 showed that while 70 percent of Nigerians prefer democracy, 77 percent of the population are unhappy with the quality of governance. If that same survey were conducted today, the figures would be starker.

    But that is understandable. Two significant decisions by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s government – the partial removal of petrol subsidies and the floating exchange rate – have had the unforeseen effect of significantly worsening hardship. On top of that, when the government calls on citizens to tighten their belts, some public officials appear to be living it up with large convoys, personal aides and extravagant foreign trips. 

    It’s precisely this feeling among citizens of baboon “working” and monkey “chopping” that has given democracy a bad name. 

    Tinubu’s luck

    Tinubu made his own luck by asking for the job of president at what would always be one the worst times in Nigeria’s history in a generation. Of course, there are broader issues like weak institutions, ineffective governors, election fraud, and a deep feeling among voters that elections are useless to remove bad leaders, not to mention limited faith in the judiciary. These issues require the collective effort of citizens, leaders, and institutions to solve them. But in the end, one man leads. 

    What Tinubu makes of it – not only through his speeches but, more importantly, through his performance – in the next one or two years will determine what is left of the heavily eroded confidence in democracy. He can’t afford to fail.

     

    Ishiekwene is Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and author of the new book, Writing for Media and Monetising It.