The way forward is not backward
In today’s Nigeria, frustrations with governance have led to dangerous murmurings: some are now romanticizing the idea of a military coup as a solution to our challenges. It’s tempting to think that a swift, authoritarian hand would “fix” the nation, but this belief is tragically misplaced. Those who lived through Nigeria’s military regimes know that coups don’t bring peace or progress — they bring terror. Under military rule, freedom vanishes, and fear reigns. If you think this current government is tough, remember: a coup won’t give you freedom — it will take away the little we have left.
During Nigeria’s dark military era, it wasn’t just ordinary citizens who suffered. The media — those tasked with holding the powerful to account — became public enemy number one. Seasoned journalists, who were simply practicing their profession, found themselves hunted like criminals. Names like Dele Giwa, founder of Newswatch, stand as chilling reminders of the lengths the military regime would go to silence voices of dissent. Giwa, a fearless journalist, was killed in 1986 by a letter bomb under circumstances that remain suspicious to this day. His death was not just the murder of an individual, but the symbolic death of Newswatch, Nigeria’s go-to paper for unfiltered facts. After Giwa’s assassination, the integrity of the Nigerian press took a hit from which it struggled to recover.
Journalists like Bayo Onanuga, Seye Kehinde, and Babafemi Ojudu were marked men during the military regimes. They didn’t commit treason or plan any coup — their only crime was practicing the profession they were trained for: journalism. A shoot-on-sight order was placed on them, forcing them into hiding, exiles, or constant fear. These men faced persecution not because they bore arms against the government, but because they dared to report the truth.
Imagine living in a country where writing a story or revealing a fact could get you killed. That was Nigeria under military rule. Many of these journalists had to flee from one country to another, constantly looking over their shoulders for fear of their lives. Ken Saro-Wiwa, the renowned human rights activist, and the Ogoni 9, environmental activists from the Niger Delta, were not so lucky. They spoke against the environmental devastation caused by oil companies with the government’s complicity. Their reward? They were executed in 1995 under General Sani Abacha’s regime. Had they spoken under a democratic government, they would have had a fighting chance at life.
People often forget the horrors faced by human rights activists like Gani Fawehinmi, Femi Falana, and Frank Kokori, among others. They were harassed, imprisoned, and sometimes even tortured for their advocacy against military tyranny. Gani Fawehinmi was a voice for the voiceless, unafraid to stand up against military regimes, and for that, he spent years in detention, often on fabricated charges. Frank Kokori, the labor leader, was similarly imprisoned without trial for demanding justice and fairness.
Under the military, no one was safe. Even the legendary Afrobeat musician Fela Anikulapo Kuti found himself a target. The government claimed he died of AIDS, but many believe the harassment he faced under military rule — his home being destroyed, his mother killed — contributed to his mysterious death. Fela was more than a musician; he was a voice of rebellion against the oppression of Nigeria’s leaders.
These are not mere stories from a history book; they are the lived realities of Nigerians who fought the beast of military rule. Beko Ransome-Kuti, Wole Soyinka, Anthony Enahoro, and many others put their lives on the line to defend the very freedoms we now take for granted. Wole Soyinka was jailed for his activism. Gani Fawehinmi was regularly thrown behind bars for speaking up against the military's atrocities. The list goes on, with many names etched into our national consciousness as fighters for freedom, who would have had it easier under a democratic system.
These journalists, human rights activists, and freedom fighters never stopped fighting because they knew what the rest of us must never forget: a military government only rules by oppression. While today we can freely discuss government failures on social media, under a military dictatorship, such freedoms are non-existent. You won’t have the right to protest. You won’t have the right to speak out. The very platforms we use today to express our frustrations will become silent.
We are living in tough times, no doubt. But a military coup is not the answer. Those who witnessed the brutality of past military regimes know that the cure is far worse than the disease. We must resist the temptation to invite tyranny back into our lives. Our country may be struggling, but we still have the tools to demand change under a civilian government — tools like free speech, protests, and the press.
Let us not forget the lessons of our past. The ghost of Dele Giwa and the memories of journalists forced into exile, of human rights defenders executed for their beliefs, should remind us that democracy, however flawed, is still our best hope for progress. Praying for a coup is praying for darkness to descend upon our nation once again.
And trust me, those who lived through the darkness know better than to ever wish for it again.
Seun Joseph writes from Hull City
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