The leader as essence of Nigeria project

Between 1967 and 1970, Nigeria prosecuted a civil war, one of the bloodiest in the annals of modern history. And at the centre of that terrible national tragedy is that man of destiny, General Yakubu Gowon, the head of the military administration—the second in the history of Nigeria’s chequered post-independence political history. After the deep euphoria of independence, the 1966 coup and the aftermath of the civil war were too disjunctive for a state that was aiming for the status of a key player on the continent and the globe; a nation-state that was supposed to reverse the ills of colonialism and increase the well-being of her citizens. These series of national events were also something that no national leader should be saddled with. This is because of the position General Gowon was meant to defend—upholding the postcolonial status of one Nigeria even in the face of gross national inconsistencies — one which led to the 1967-70 civil war. But then, who would want to be associated with the dissolution of a state that destiny has called on one to protect?

General Gowon’s entry into the trajectory of Nigeria’s national project implies that he was called upon to supervise the direction Nigeria would go right from the commencement of nation-building. The responsibility to channel the political development of the Nigerian state was thrusted on his unwilling head, and from a critically debilitating point of extreme disunity. And it is in this sense that we can regard General Yakubu Gowon as the grand personification of the resilient Nigerian spirit. It is very difficult not to believe that providence had a hand in inscribing Gowon’s life with a very unique purpose that came to finally intersect Nigeria’s destiny. From the face-off with the late General Odimegwu Ojukwu to the crafting of the Aburi Declaration which broke down eventually because of contrasting interpretation of what the accord demands of the Federal and Eastern regional governments. The entire trajectory of incidences and events constitute quite an interesting field of study not only for political scientists but also political psychologists. For instance, what mix of political ego was responsible in tilting the critical situation into a pissing contest between the two national gladiators?

War is always a terrible business. In the Nigerian case, the variables involved are all too multiple and complex to make any coherent sense. From external business interests to the internal social and ethnic cleavages whose fissiparous tendencies were the primary causes of the conflict. And yet, that war had to be fought, and Gowon had to supervise the looming disintegration of a national project that had barely taken off. If we agree that providence had thrust this national destiny on Gowon, we should also know that it is not deterministic. He could have capitulated in following through with the divine responsibility. He did not. He accepted it as God’s will even if he might not have had that spiritual understanding at the time, and he brought Nigeria as far as he could with a mixture of sound and unsound decisions and judgments. Let me highlight just two that speak to how contradictory leadership decisions can sometimes be.

On October 1, 1970, General Gowon promised to set in place a political and electoral process that would lead to the handing over of the rein of authority to a civil government by October 1, 1976. Unfortunately, the Supreme Military Council was forced to renege on its promise. And the reason was that the political class did not seem ready to take up the great task of moving forward in a state that was still reeling from the consequences of the civil war, and the ethnic bitterness that attended it. That decision could be approached from multiple interpretive perspectives. One could ask what gave Gowon the messianic audacity to legislate on the future of Nigeria. After all, the political behaviour of Nigerian politicians has not changed since then. Others could point at a key patriotic sensibility that did not want to scuttle the progress made since the end of the Civil War. No one who went through the gruesome war would want to ever have a repeat of it.
One of the infamous moments of the Gowon administration is the lost opportunity to transform the public service system in Nigeria through the adoption of the Udoji Commission report and the implementation of its grand managerial paradigm-shifting recommendations. The report was initiated as a result of a global managerial revolution that insisted that the old Weberian administration must give way to a new public service that will be flexible, economical, lean, effective and efficient in the achievement of service delivery. The new public service is meant to be modernised and boosted for an output-oriented performance that increases Nigeria’s productive base within a grand architecture of a developmental state – one with a hold on the ‘commanding heights’ of the national economy.

Udoji was motivated in its critical assessment of the Nigerian public service by the Fulton Commission Report of 1968 which also took on the British Civil Service and the urgency of its institutional reform. The Udoji Commission was at once inaugurated to deal with the protracted wage and incentive issues that the civil service had been dealing with before independence and which final resolution of the Adebo 1971 report passed on to the Udoji Commission for a holistic systemic reconsideration. Unfortunately, the Gowon administration―presumably as a concession to the sentiments of his super-permanent secretaries—clung on to the wage components of the Udoji Report and left off the more fundamental dimensions of institutional reform that would have radically improved the capability and readiness of the public service system. How could an administration that baulked at handing over power to a bunch of unprepared political class not see the significance of preparing the public service system as a condition for national productivity and good governance? Professor Lars Konlind’s perspective on why institutions enter into irredeemable decline attributed this sense to what happens when an organisation shun changes at the peak of its success. Consequently, leaders―political and administrative—develop selective deafness, one which in Nigeria’s case over-glorifies the ‘I am directed’ Weberian bureaucratic tradition by disregarding the innovations that managerialism portend, one that has earned Nigeria the reputation of the “hesitant reformer”.
And yet, without being flippant or hagiographic, General Gowon is in my assessment one of the most heroic of Nigerian leaders. He represents a sense of statesmanship that stands in sharp contrast to the intense sense of gratification that characterises politics today. The trajectory of his statesmanship is significantly defining. To be born before the founding of such a combustible nation as ours, and to have matured to receive a calling to fight a war to elevate an artificial creation of the British colonialist—‘a mere geographical expression’, to quote Chief Obafemi Awolowo—to the status of a state worth preserving, is nothing less than a defining trajectory. When as a nation we were confronted with a “to be or not to be” dilemma in our evolution, General Gowon chose Nigeria. With that choice, General Gowon brought a significant dimension to the importance of the minority ethnic groups in crystallizing the Nigeria Project. That being a clarion call to the majority ethnic groups that Nigeria does not only belong to all of us; it is God’s divine project.
Despite the faux pas concerning the Udoji Commission Report and its momentous recommendations, the Gowon administration still left an indelible administrative example that replicate the Awolowo-Adebo administrative model in the old western region. The corps of super-permanent secretaries significantly backstopped the Gowon administration in the policy space that was stampeded during the years of the Civil War. I can hypothesise that without that fundamental model as a crucial fulcrum, the civil war would have been worse than it was. And so, as a testament to the possible greatness of the Nigerian state, we already have two versions of the politics-administration model that could be reinvented to stimulate good governance.

Besides, General Yakubu Gowon was not just a normal run-of-the-mill soldier. He was an officer and a gentleman. At a time when the figure of the soldier or the image of the Nigerian army has dipped significantly in reputation, Gowon embodied the very essence of military professionalism and a reputation for excellence. As a commissioned officer, he was minded about the educational and training extent so much so that he was ready to go the full lengths to prove his thirst for learning to be more and more professional. General Gowon was not content with his prestigious training at Sandhurst, Camberley and Latimer. He just had to eventually undergo the academic rigour of adult education to earn a doctorate degree at the University of Warwick in the United Kingdom. That might have been a personal vision of fulfilment, but it elevated the public perception of what and who an officer should be.

With that accomplishment, Officer Gowon became a composite image of a true military professional that is not defined by his brawn or capacity to wield the gun, but by intelligence, intellect and humaneness in a profession defined by its unique masculinity.

In all, General Yakubu Gowon believes in Nigeria. Only the most wrong-headed critique would not take that as a consequential fact. Indeed, after he had left the corridors of power, General Gowon still holds on to a spiritual responsibility to keep up the providential imperative that Nigeria is on a divine course to greatness. For being so politically, professionally and spiritually involved in the courses of Nigeria’s nation-building efforts, there is no other way to see General Yakubu Gowon order than as a patriot and one of Nigeria’s eternal heroes. And there is no other way to cap his many efforts as seeing Nigeria fulfill her divine mandate than to explore his political and nationalist legacies while he is still with us. At ninety, our nonagenarian statesman and general deserve more than national accolades. He deserves to see the Nigeria of his dreams and aspirations.