Pen and Bullets Cross Swords
“It was clear that the press, the Punch especially, had succeeded in getting the military angry. It was clear also to the military that the wise thing to do was for the soldiers to open up, and talk to the nation through the press.”
Sate House it was at the time that Shehu Shagari took off for Abuja late on December 30. Dodan Barracks it became on the morning of December 31 when the military installed itself in government. UntilThursday when the military government invited the nation’s media executives to the place now called Dodan Barracks – the dead of the street called Ribadu in Ikoyi – it was hard for most people to understand precisely what the Muhammadu Buhari regime was all about. The people who now rule Nigeria are young men in the armed forces who thought that the business of government was governing. Somewhere along the way, nobody told them of the necessity for accountability. So, they worked hard, obviously, and forgot to tell that nation that they were working hard by informing the media of their activities. Thus by the time G.K. Dosunmu sent out his letter to the nation’s editors informing them that he had beendirected to invite them to the Dodan Barracks, which he called State House in a letter sent a month earlier, a war line had formed between the soldiers and the boisterous Nigerian reporters. Going monthly to Ribidu Road to listen to Alex Ekwueme confide in the media about what the government was doing had become a monthly ritual which took place on the first Wednesday of every month. The media executives were written such an invitation in December asking them to come down on January 9 to listen to Dr. Ekwueme.
That meeting didn’t take place for the obviously reason that Ekwueme and Shagari had been swept out of power more than a week earlier. The press briefing was to be the first handled by Abba Dabo as Shagari’s chief press secretary, of course, was swept off the corridors of power as a political appointee. The white-haired Dosunmu, a civil servant who has been writing that letter since the days of Shehu Yar’Adua, is still there to write the letter. He epitomizes the permanent government, the civil service, the sometimes faceless fellows who see governments go and come. Therefore, the only words that Dosunmu had to change in his invitation were State House which now became Dodan Barracks. On the face of it, the change appeared cosmetic. But on reaching the Dodan Barracks on Thursday, it became clear that the change was the metaphor of the new order of realities in the country. The practice was for thr editors to drive to the gates of the premises at the dead of the street called Ribadu Road. There they were indentified and allowed to drive into the complex. But the Thursday, things were visibly different. At the first gate, the Nigerian Security Organisation (NSO) officials identified the editors as they came in their cars, and were told to drive on. At the second gate, another NSO official identified the editors who were then told to turn round and drive into the premises adjoining the excutive complex proper.
The whole thing was genteel, but nobody needed to be told that he was standing or sitting within a hair’s breath of a fusillade of bullets. The nozzle of a machine gun sitting on a table being manned by a soldier was looking out of a window to the right of the iron gate. The deadly looking nozzle was the first thing you would notice and, as Yakubu Mohammed observed, it would not be too smart for a man to reach into his pocket to get out his handkerchief. The driver was thus told to put on the indicator saying that he was going left, so that when the car moved, the soldier wearing the green helmet sitting behind the machine gun would realize that the motorist intended to turn back so that he might not use his possibly itchy finger on that instrument of finality. All the editors were thus told to wait in the Dodan Barracks annex until they were told to come into the executive complex housing the offices and the residence of the head of state and commander-in-chief. The chief of staff, Supreme Headquarters, is also housed in the premises.
At 11 in the morning, the appointed time for the briefing, the executives were told to walk the 50 meters or so distance from the annex to the conference hall in the executive complex. The editors had nor visited the premises since August when last they were briefed by Ekwueme before the last non-elections. The place was visibly different. Armoured vehicles, with heavy guns pointing their ugly mouths as though at you, were placed all over, and soldiers looking ready to do battle moved up and down in the premises. The editors were called by names. They moved in and sat down. Television cameras and klieg lights were positioned in the council chamber. And then the soldiers came with their own camaras and klieg lights, a notice that the show belonged to both the civilians and the soldiers. The room was full, and in a moment the chief of staff, Supreme Headquarters, the new Ekwueme, came in, amd everybody rose. Tunde Idiagbon, his unsmiling visage now familiar to Nigerians who have seen him on television, sat down and read a prepared statement. While pledging to co-operate with the press, he gave a proviso: provided that the press would be – well, more or less – responsible. A battle line was drawn. The paper which seemed more to be battle against the military government took up the challenge. Ade Fagbemi, the editor of the Punch, told Idiagbon that the press of today was different from the press of 10 years ago. He added that – well, more or less – the press would co-operate if the military co-operated. Son peace was made. Idiagbon laughed. Everybody said that if the Punch intended to get the military angry, well, he said, laughing, the military had refused to get angry.
All that was nice. It was clear that the press, the Punch especially, had succeeded in getting the military angry. It was clear also that the military had finally concluded that it would be counterproductive to get angry, and that the wise thing to do was for the soldiers to open up, and talk to the nation through the press. And that Idiagbon did on Thursday, as he named names of top Nigerians locked up at Kirikiri, and named millions these fellows were keeping under their beds. The point was made. The soldiers were very powerful. The journalists were very powerful. The pen might be mightier than the sword. But the bullet might not be mightier than the pen. Somewhere there, the pen and the bullet acknowledged their equality, and their superiority over the sword. Without one, in the present realities, the other could not very well get much done.
©Sunday Concord, January 22, 1984
(Pp.240-242)
