There are times when sad events occur in the country and you feel as if you have been personally defiled. The sporadic attacks on Igbo people in Lagos State before, during, after the governorship election of Saturday, March 18, 2023, and the silence by people who could have intervened promptly to smother that ethnic-inspired fire was most disappointing. Silence in the face of evil is a moral burden.
There has been public outrage over the incidents. It is unthinkable that anyone in their right frame of mind could advocate violence to be committed against members of an ethnic group because of misperceptions about the economic and political power held by members of that ethnic group.
There is no better way to describe what happened. Humanity must find a way to deal decisively with extreme right and left groups that harbour evil thoughts and execute their beliefs in public places.
What the events in Lagos illustrate is the double-sided nature of every state, every government and every country. Every country has two faces. One face is visible and determinable. The other is concealed. The second face is the face of abomination; it is the face that is covered with the human mask. That second face is harder to decipher. British playwright William Shakespeare was right when he alluded to how difficult it was to uncover the mind’s construction through the look on the human face. You cannot tell a malevolent man or woman with evil intent merely by looking at their face.
Like every other nation that inhabits decent and horrible people, Nigeria also has a good face and an ugly face. Unfortunately, it is the ugly face that pops up whenever Nigeria’s name is mentioned in the international community. The good image that Nigeria built in the 1960s and 1970s has since been dragged into the mud by the sharp practices for which we, as a national group, are widely known. In the past four decades, Nigeria’s image has been damaged by the involvement of her citizens in drug pushing, in financial fraud (the notorious “419” activities), and indiscriminate kidnapping of citizens and foreign residents in the country.
Now, a new group has declared its intent on “reclaiming” Lagos from members of other ethnic groups who inhabit the area. This development has added to the terrible profile of Nigeria as a country where anger, violence, and deaths are used to settle misunderstandings.
Nothing terrorises a country’s citizens as the fear that they could go out in the morning and be bashed publicly, or worse still, they could return to their homes in coffins, as victims of ethnic violence that exploded in their workplaces, in the marketplace, in the school premises, in the motor parks, in the side streets, or in the sports arena. In this frightening atmosphere, it is unimaginable that both the state and federal governments would maintain silence in the face of spiralling violence.
Using violence to advance an ethnic agenda or ideology instead of engaging in dialogue should never be tolerated in a country that claims to be united, a country that preaches the value of diversity, and respect for people who inhabit the country. The situation in Lagos has exposed the duplicity of top government officials who are driven by hatred for members of other ethnic groups.
The Lagos State government’s baffling approach to violent attacks directed at Igbo people in the state is manifestly wrong. It is a measure of the government’s weak and purposeless response to serious issues that threaten Nigeria’s fragile unity. By adopting a soft approach rather than stepping up efforts to apprehend the criminals who continuously sow the seeds of ethnic discord in the state, the government may have provided the sponsors, advocates, and messengers of hate with the oxygen bag they require to propagate their weird philosophy.
Across the world, many governments have adopted a clear policy of not negotiating with groups that advocate hostility against segments of society. To deal decisively with such groups, the Lagos State government must double the financial, human, and technological resources that are currently deployed to tackle the spread of inter-ethnic animosity. The government also needs to understand the fundamental causes of the uprising to be able to draw up plans to end the barbarism.
Widespread unemployment cannot be the sole reason, just as economic hardships alone cannot explain the hatred directed at Igbo people. Similarly, lack of education may also not account sufficiently for callous methods adopted by the violent groups to threaten, intimidate, and terrorise Igbo people resident in Lagos. Across the country, there is a significant growth in the population of the underclass who feel they have been excluded from the larger Nigerian society. But that should not be the reason to target members of one ethnic group resident in Lagos.
Revolutionary ethnic and religious ideas and precepts may be feeding the perpetrators fascination for hostile attacks. If that is the case, the question we should ask is: What are they teaching Lagos youth about life, about harmonious living, and about recognising and respecting people regardless of their ethnicity, their religious faith, and their region of origin?
Some years ago, when militant groups in the Niger Delta region began to abduct just about everyone, it was perceived by state officials as a minor problem confined to a local area. However, the moment the problem became widespread and uncontrollable, the moment the problem was exported to Abuja and other cities previously perceived as impenetrable, that was the time the government realised that something had to be done urgently to stop the criminal behaviour. Perhaps something more extraordinary would have to occur before the authorities in Lagos are convinced about the need to pay more serious attention to the danger of ethnic-based politics and hate speech.
Not long ago, Nigeria was widely regarded as the quintessence of Africa’s pride and beauty, a peaceful country where people who belonged to diverse religious faiths and ethnicity interacted freely. Not anymore. The good days have disappeared.
When countries falter, the expectation is that they would rise and pick up from where they fell. However, when Nigeria stumbles, as it has been doing since it achieved political independence, nothing seems to hold the nation back from slipping further down the ravine.
What an irony. In the 1970s and 1980s, Nigeria swaggered arrogantly as the “Big Brother” and protector of other African countries. The country had many things that many African countries lacked. We had oil resources and wealth. We had a formidable military force that served impressive peacekeeping duties in various parts of the world.
In international meetings, other developing countries looked up to Nigeria to defend their interests. During those decades, Nigeria was admired in Africa and beyond. When Nigeria spoke or engaged in dialogue with powerful Western countries, other African countries listened. They knew their “Big Brother” would defend them. Nigeria had a respected voice in the international community. It also had a booming economy. Unfortunately, today, Nigeria is a shadow of its former image.
As other nations prospered, everything fell apart in Nigeria. A country once respected and envied by many nations in Africa and beyond became the subject of high and low diplomatic jokes across the world.
When people talk loosely about Nigeria as the “giant of Africa”, it is difficult to find the basis for such exaggerated sense of importance. Why do we make so much noise about Nigeria even when we have little or nothing to proclaim as our core achievements since political independence in 1960?