By Jimoh Ahmed
Few Nigerian leaders evoke as much intrigue, controversy, and admiration as General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida. His legacy, like that of many historical figures, is shrouded in both commendation and condemnation. His memoir, A Journey in Service, is a crucial attempt at self-narration, an effort to frame his leadership within a context of service, sacrifice, and vision. But does the book offer the medicine Nigeria needs, or is it merely an attempt to rewrite history after the damage has been done?
The Power of the Written Word
Autobiographies of powerful figures often serve dual purposes: to illuminate history and to influence how that history is remembered. Babangida’s book is no different. It is his voice, his narrative, his justification for a period of Nigerian history that remains a subject of heated debate. But in chronicling his journey, does he accept responsibility for his actions, or does he, as critics might argue, seek absolution without penance?
Nigeria’s history is replete with military interventions, and Babangida’s era stands out for its paradoxes. He was a self-styled military president who introduced structural economic reforms but also annulled what is still regarded as Nigeria’s freest and fairest election. He presents himself as a pragmatist, a leader who understood the complexities of governance and made difficult choices. But history is seldom that forgiving.
The Annulment of June 12 and the Ghosts of Democracy
No discussion of Babangida’s legacy is complete without revisiting June 12, 1993. The annulment of the presidential election, widely believed to have been won by Moshood Abiola, remains one of Nigeria’s greatest democratic betrayals. In A Journey in Service, Babangida attempts to explain his decision, arguing that the nation was not ready for the transition, that forces beyond his control necessitated the annulment. But this reasoning raises more questions than it answers.
Was Nigeria truly not ready, or was the military unwilling to relinquish power? Were these external pressures real, or were they convenient excuses? By seeking to rationalize an action that disrupted Nigeria’s democratic evolution, Babangida appears to be requesting understanding without offering true reconciliation. The medicine after death, in this case, is an explanation that may soothe but does not heal.
Economic Reforms: Progress or Precipice?
One of Babangida’s most enduring legacies is his economic policy, particularly the introduction of the Structural Adjustment Program (SAP). Designed in collaboration with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank, SAP was intended to liberalize the Nigerian economy, reduce dependency on oil, and encourage private sector participation. However, its implementation led to massive hardship, devaluation of the naira, and an increase in poverty.
In A Journey in Service, Babangida frames SAP as a necessary evil, a tough but unavoidable decision in Nigeria’s economic evolution. Yet, for many Nigerians, SAP is remembered as a period of suffering, hyperinflation, and economic despair. If the intention was to set Nigeria on a path of financial stability, why did it instead deepen economic inequality? Did Babangida’s administration fail in execution, or was the policy itself fundamentally flawed?
Political Engineering and the Failed Transition
Beyond the economy, Babangida saw himself as a political innovator. His attempt to create a two-party system—one a little to the left, the other a little to the right—was meant to engineer a stable political environment. His administration midwifed the creation of the Social Democratic Party (SDP) and the National Republican Convention (NRC). However, the process was micromanaged by the military, and in the end, Babangida’s transition program collapsed under the weight of its contradictions.
He claims in his book that the vision was genuine, but the realities of Nigerian politics, entrenched interests, and unseen pressures sabotaged it. However, skeptics argue that the entire transition was a calculated delay tactic, an endless loop designed to keep the military in power while creating the illusion of progress.
The contrast between Babangida’s stated intentions and the actual outcomes of his policies underscores a fundamental question: was he truly a visionary, or was he simply an adept manipulator of power?
The Culture of Corruption and Institutional Decay
Another major point of discussion in Babangida’s legacy is corruption. His tenure saw the institutionalization of grand corruption, with government funds allegedly disappearing into private accounts. Many of Nigeria’s present-day accountability challenges can be traced back to the Babangida years, where financial opacity became the norm and government contracts became tools for political patronage.
Does A Journey in Service address this? To some extent, yes. Babangida acknowledges the systemic issues Nigeria faced, but he does not fully accept his role in exacerbating them. The lack of deep introspection in this regard weakens the book’s credibility. Without genuine accountability, the book becomes an attempt at historical revisionism rather than an honest engagement with the past.
Legacy and the Burden of Leadership
Leaders do not get to dictate how history remembers them. They can write books, give speeches, and justify their actions, but ultimately, history is shaped by the collective memory of those who lived through their reign. Babangida’s book, while an important contribution to Nigeria’s historical record, does not absolve him of the criticisms that have followed him for decades.
What it does, however, is offer insight into the mind of a man who wielded immense power at a critical juncture in Nigeria’s history. It provides his perspective, his rationale, and his version of events. But it is up to the reader to determine whether this is an exercise in truth-telling or a final attempt at securing a favorable legacy.
Conclusion: Medicine Too Late?
The title of this piece, Seeking Attendance with Medicine After Death, is a metaphor for the futility of addressing wounds long after the damage has been done. Babangida’s book attempts to diagnose, justify, and explain decisions that shaped Nigeria, but many of the scars from his tenure remain unhealed. The medicine he offers—his explanations, rationalizations, and perspectives—comes long after the fact, and for many Nigerians, it may be too little, too late.
Yet, history is complex. Babangida was not just a villain; he was also a reformer, a strategist, and a leader who navigated one of Nigeria’s most turbulent periods. His book is essential reading, not because it offers final answers, but because it helps us understand the complexities of power, governance, and legacy.
But in the end, A Journey in Service does not change the reality of the past. It is left to history to render its final judgment.
