Kenneth Kumater Katsina
When a government minister and a naval officer faced off on an empty plot of land in Abuja, the public chose a side. This article challenges that verdict. It argues that in cheering for the lieutenant, we are dangerously romanticizing a military that has shown contempt for the very citizens it now courts as fans, and ignoring a blatant illegal duty that undermines our democracy.
After everything is said and done, Nyesom Wike should (and indeed must) apologize to the young, gallant naval officer, A.M. Yerima, at whom he hurled such discourteous insults that would make a madman squirm. It is only right. It behooves an educated, refined gentleman to act with courtesy and civility towards his fellow man, especially a lieutenant in the country’s military, who, if for no other reason, still deserves privilege for that position alone. And while Nyesom Wike, a lawyer and former governor, is surprisingly hardly a model of refinement or even educated conduct, he is nevertheless expected to exhibit decorum by virtue of the office he currently occupies as a Minister of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.
Yet, the conversation cannot end there. More important things need to be said, and pressing questions asked. What, for instance, is a naval lieutenant doing on “duty” at an undeveloped private property in the capital? Is this land a matter of national security? Has the Nigerian Navy become a training ground for private security? Is this where billions of taxpayers’ Naira are going? To protect private individuals and their assets, even to the point of obstructing civil servants from performing their lawful duties, instead of safeguarding the nation’s borders and territorial integrity?
Before I proceed, some context, I think, is requisite. Two days ago, a video surfaced online and swiftly went viral. It featured Nyesom Wike, in a tense face-off with a young, sharp-looking lieutenant of the Nigerian Navy, later identified as A.M. Yerima. Flanking Wike were staff of the Federal Capital Development Authority (FCDA) and policemen; on the other side of the line of battle, behind A.M. Yerima are his colleagues of the Nigerian military, looking very serious and very important, rifles holstered across their shoulders. It doesn’t take one too long to get a hang of the proceedings. A visibly agitated Wike is in a frenzy and can be heard speaking at the top of his voice. Once or twice the young lieutenant chips in to explain his position. He is calm and collected, his hands in his pockets, projecting a swagger. He emphasizes that he is obeying an order. At this, Wike proclaims him a fool, brushing him off with a wave of his hand. The young officer insists that he isn’t a fool. And Wike insists that he is. The whole thing is a back-and-forth between these two men in a match of machismo.
But the juice of the gist collected from the droplets of conversation is that the piece of land which provides the scene of the altercation belongs to a retired vice admiral, who apparently doesn’t have the permit to make the kind of development currently being made on the land, and who has given the “order” to the young lieutenant to repel the FCDA staff who had come to put a stop to the ongoing construction. The FCDA staff certainly had reported back to Minister Wike, who had then rushed to the scene perhaps hoping that he could verbally berate and intimidate the young officer into submission. The young officer is adamant, insisting that he is operating on “orders”.
Perhaps the most admirable thing about the lieutenant – beyond his composure – is that he, a junior officer, stood up to the Minister’s brashness. To ordinary people, Wike has come to embody what we might call the ‘anyhowness’ of the political class—a blatant disregard for procedure and decency. However, an overwhelming majority of the populace has taken the side of the young lieutenant—and the military in general—in what is correctly dissected as a clash of military and civilian authority. And herein lies the elephant in the room which sadly is being noticed by far too few. Aside from the comic effect of it—of a Minister of the Republic and a lieutenant of the Navy of the same Republic exchanging words like garage agberos in the middle of an empty plot of land in Abuja—the face-off foretells something far more sinister, especially at a time when rumours of a military coup d’etat have only recently made rounds across the country.
Think of it: ours is a democratic society. If there is a dispute on a piece of land belonging to a retired vice admiral, why can’t he follow the due civilian process as everyone else in seeking resolution rather than deploying soldiers—federal troops, mind you—to forcefully prevent staff of the FCDA (who are representative of the executive authority) from carrying out their legal duties on his property? Are members of the military above the rule of law? And such blatant disregard and show-of-force against executive authority! After 24 years of civilian rule, is the military suddenly missing its days at the helm of governance, when they ruled with the gun and reckless impunity? Our African parents used to tell us, “there cannot be smoke without fire.” So, it is apt to ask, if simply to wonder: what exactly is cooking?
Such pertinent questions are lost beneath the empty cacophony of the sensationalist brouhaha of so-called social media influencers whose primary motive is farming engagement numbers. In any event, the chief cause of excitement appears to be the apparent humiliation of a megalomaniac of a minister, the monumental slaying—so to speak—of the dragon slayer. But this is only a secondary issue—almost a paltry one—that should not take precedence over the more serious questions that ought to be asked.
The young lieutenant has been made a symbol of resistance against the high-handedness that is so common with our political elite. The question is: just how different is this Yerima from Wike? From the ordinary citizen’s point of view, it is a classic case of “an enemy of my enemy is my friend” but experience and history have shown that this isn’t always the case. An enemy of your enemy might very well be your enemy too. And you’ll rue cheering for such a person. This is true for Yerima and the military. Surely it is too early to forget the terrorising regime of Sani Abacha and the ruthless impunity of Babangida and the continuing bloodletting of military coups. We haven’t finished mourning Ken Saro-Wiwa and the Ogoni nine; Dele Giwa; the judicial murder of Mamman Vatsa. Is this not the same military that shoots at civilian protesters demanding better policies from its government? Six years ago I watched a friend die from a soldier’s bullet. His offence? Protesting power cuts in the students hostels at the University of Jos. Every now and again the air force massacres entire communities of people. Their defence? Conducting air drills. How can this same military, so undisciplined and with so little regard for human lives, become the hero of the ordinary citizen? And if Lieutenant A.M Yerima has become such a paragon of civility, what are we to make of his conduct towards the policeman he considers so beneath him that he doesn’t deem him worthy of a reply while he is talking? In the aforementioned video, our charismatic lieutenant looks at a policeman so condescendingly that only after some time does he deign to give speech to his feelings, remarking with no less belittling gesture of his hand, “I am talking and a politician is talking too.”
If this young lieutenant holds a policeman—an enforcer of the law—so low, just how much less is he going to consider “bloody” civilians. This singular act casts doubt on his seemingly equanimous temperament which has been played up by sensation-loving social media denizens to a seemingly avuncular disposition, and certainly one cannot then be faulted if one does not hesitate to suggest that the young lieutenant was only so calm because it was Nyesom Wike, a Minister and a former governor, facing him and no ordinary person. If it had been any ordinary person they may not have left that scene with their teeth intact.
I know such a suggestion is not only possible but very probable. You and I have borne witness to the impunity with which the military treats the ordinary civilian citizen of this country. How then do you expect me to cheer for a military man just because he has enough courage to talk back to a brash Minister?
As one of the police officers said in Hausa during the dispute. This is not our fight – we should not risk ourselves in their fight. In his caution, the police officer was heard saying, “The powerful are fighting, while you and I are the ones suffering and hungry. If they’re enjoying the wealth meant for the people, how much do you think they’ll give you?”
The common man has no dog in this fight between the bourgeoisie. It is a rare occasion where one might hesitate to apply a Machiavellian axiom; after all we are not princes, we mustn’t take sides. It is a rare occasion that calls for the well-meaning citizen, from a position of moral authority, to dissect an event in terms of right and wrong, and to lecture our defiant leaders. It is a rare moment—and here I am, doing just that—to tell Lieutenant Yerima and the Navy to put taxpayers’ hard-earned Naira to proper use: to do their job of securing our borders and fighting the insurgency and terrorism that plague us so malignantly. And to tell Nyesom Wike that while he must continue developing the capital, he must do so with civility and a strict adherence to due process.
