Fr Kukah’s Witness to Justice
By Ochereome Nnanna
It was nearly one year in transit before arriving on my desk after the author, Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah, promised to send it to me. Looking at the amount of intellectual effort and physical exertion that must have gone into the 519-page excellently packaged tome, I decided to delay it further to this, more auspicious occasion, of launching the new logo to commemorate 20 years of myPeople and Politics column here in Vanguard.
*Bishop Kukah
*Bishop Kukah
Entitled: Witness To Justice, An Insider’s Account of Nigeria’s Truth Commission, Kukah, easily the front-line and most proficient intellectual cleric in Nigeria, recalls his experiences as a privileged member of the Human Rights Violation Investigation Commission, HRVIC.
Nigerians simply callit “The Oputa Panel” because it had as its Chairman, one of the most respected Justices of the Nigerian Supreme Court of all time, the (now late) Justice Chukwudifu Oputa. I call Kukah a privileged member because Justice Oputa instinctively brought him close to the centre of the Commission’s gravity, perhaps fully cognisant that as a compulsive chronicler and author, Kukah would one day come up with an insider’s reportage.
Few people may have seen the panel’s report, but surely, far more people will be eager to read any book written by Kukah, the author of the bestseller, Religion, Politics and Power in Northern Nigeria (1994),and other works.
In a nutshell, Kukah observes, correctly, that the Commission was essentially the Nigerian military “on trial”. I will add that also in the dock with the military was the Northern political establishment as a prime accused. The Nigerian military up till 1999, especially the segment of it that ruled between 1984 and 1999, fronted for the Northern political establishment, which used it to dominate the rest of Nigeria.
This much is evident in the fact that the bulk of the petitioners were from the South and Middle Belt, while the major dramatis personae invited to explain their roles in the saga were mostly Northerners of the Arewa zones. Arewa North was generally cold to the Commission. Kukah, of course, did not quite put it in such earthier terms.
The author portrayed the abuse of military decrees, task forces and tribunals to subvert the Judiciary and trample on the rights of Nigerians, groups and cohorts. They were used to promote impunity and mainstream what Kukah describes as the “child of necessity syndrome”. Besides decrees, the military perpetrated evils such as arbitrary arrests, detentions, tortures, assassinations, annulment of elections and general dehumanisation of citizens, not to mention the exclusion(marginalisation) of sections of the country from the mainstream of the commonwealth based on their roles in the sad and dark events of 1966 to 1970. On the other hand, those who played on the side of the North were integrated into the circle of privilege in the sharing of the oil wealth of the nation.
Meanwhile, the military, which took over power from the civilians on the pretext of restoring normalcy, was putrefying institutionally. Kukah encapsulates it thus: “On their own admission, the military had become a haven of moral fugitives; the place was reeking with smugglers and witchcraft. Witch doctors became an important component of military intelligence. Although set to destroy one person, these documents succeeded in destroying the military itself” (p 184).
Between 1984 and 1999, four military officers presided over the affairs of Nigeria. These were: Major General Muhammadu Buhari (1984-85); General Ibrahim Babangida (1985-1993), General Sani Abacha (late, 1993-1998) and General Abdul Salami Abubakar (1998-1999).
The three surviving military leaders were summoned to testify and answer to the accusations levelled against them and their regimes. While some of their military and security operatives appeared, the threesome refused, hiding behind what Kukah describes as “dry legalism”. Kukah also illustrates the prominent roles played by those he described as “ethnic entrepreneurs”, such as Ohanaeze Ndigbo, Arewa Consultative Forum, Afenifere, Joint Action Committee on the Middle Belt, JACOMB and other Minority groups, in fleshing out their grievances during this assignment.
At the end, Kukah did ask the salient question: Did the Oputa Panel actually reconcile Nigerians? His answer is neither yes nor no. Instead he hangs it by saying in this type of work: “The end is actually the beginning” and any conclusion drawn can only be “tentative” (p. 438). While affirming that the Panel’s assignment was a relevant interrogation of our history, he did admit that reconciliation of Nigerians is a delayed project.
Kukah’s book is a great read, no doubt. It is a product of great mental stamina, and you could see him balancing between all the worlds and publics he reflects. However, Witness To Justice is also full of self-justification. Kukah wants you to see that effort not as a wasted one.
I agree: it does not hurt to look in the mirror. Witness To Justice is a look in the mirror. A fine caption. That is all. It is not really a witness to justice. Nobody was brought to justice. Those who came to look for justice never found it. The President Olusegun Obasanjo regime that set up the Panel did not even publish any White Paper on it, putting a question mark on why he set it up?
How can you call it a “truth commission” when the prime suspects and accused persons refused to appear and tell their own sides of the story? How can there be reconciliation if nobody said sorry for their actions? Even Bishop Kukah used such terms as “their so-called cries against injustice” to refer to petitions sent in by some groups. Oputa Panel was a travesty of “Truth” and “Reconciliation” compared to that of South Africa from where Obasanjo copied the idea. Perhaps, Obasanjo used the Oputa Panel to legitimise his regime?
But as a book of records, our history’s mirror in the sun and an eclectic engagement of the work of the HRVIC, Witness To Justice is a very important and useful national document.
It was nearly one year in transit before arriving on my desk after the author, Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah, promised to send it to me. Looking at the amount of intellectual effort and physical exertion that must have gone into the 519-page excellently packaged tome, I decided to delay it further to this, more auspicious occasion, of launching the new logo to commemorate 20 years of myPeople and Politics column here in Vanguard.
*Bishop Kukah
*Bishop Kukah
Entitled: Witness To Justice, An Insider’s Account of Nigeria’s Truth Commission, Kukah, easily the front-line and most proficient intellectual cleric in Nigeria, recalls his experiences as a privileged member of the Human Rights Violation Investigation Commission, HRVIC.
Nigerians simply callit “The Oputa Panel” because it had as its Chairman, one of the most respected Justices of the Nigerian Supreme Court of all time, the (now late) Justice Chukwudifu Oputa. I call Kukah a privileged member because Justice Oputa instinctively brought him close to the centre of the Commission’s gravity, perhaps fully cognisant that as a compulsive chronicler and author, Kukah would one day come up with an insider’s reportage.
Few people may have seen the panel’s report, but surely, far more people will be eager to read any book written by Kukah, the author of the bestseller, Religion, Politics and Power in Northern Nigeria (1994),and other works.
In a nutshell, Kukah observes, correctly, that the Commission was essentially the Nigerian military “on trial”. I will add that also in the dock with the military was the Northern political establishment as a prime accused. The Nigerian military up till 1999, especially the segment of it that ruled between 1984 and 1999, fronted for the Northern political establishment, which used it to dominate the rest of Nigeria.
This much is evident in the fact that the bulk of the petitioners were from the South and Middle Belt, while the major dramatis personae invited to explain their roles in the saga were mostly Northerners of the Arewa zones. Arewa North was generally cold to the Commission. Kukah, of course, did not quite put it in such earthier terms.
The author portrayed the abuse of military decrees, task forces and tribunals to subvert the Judiciary and trample on the rights of Nigerians, groups and cohorts. They were used to promote impunity and mainstream what Kukah describes as the “child of necessity syndrome”. Besides decrees, the military perpetrated evils such as arbitrary arrests, detentions, tortures, assassinations, annulment of elections and general dehumanisation of citizens, not to mention the exclusion(marginalisation) of sections of the country from the mainstream of the commonwealth based on their roles in the sad and dark events of 1966 to 1970. On the other hand, those who played on the side of the North were integrated into the circle of privilege in the sharing of the oil wealth of the nation.
Meanwhile, the military, which took over power from the civilians on the pretext of restoring normalcy, was putrefying institutionally. Kukah encapsulates it thus: “On their own admission, the military had become a haven of moral fugitives; the place was reeking with smugglers and witchcraft. Witch doctors became an important component of military intelligence. Although set to destroy one person, these documents succeeded in destroying the military itself” (p 184).
Between 1984 and 1999, four military officers presided over the affairs of Nigeria. These were: Major General Muhammadu Buhari (1984-85); General Ibrahim Babangida (1985-1993), General Sani Abacha (late, 1993-1998) and General Abdul Salami Abubakar (1998-1999).
The three surviving military leaders were summoned to testify and answer to the accusations levelled against them and their regimes. While some of their military and security operatives appeared, the threesome refused, hiding behind what Kukah describes as “dry legalism”. Kukah also illustrates the prominent roles played by those he described as “ethnic entrepreneurs”, such as Ohanaeze Ndigbo, Arewa Consultative Forum, Afenifere, Joint Action Committee on the Middle Belt, JACOMB and other Minority groups, in fleshing out their grievances during this assignment.
At the end, Kukah did ask the salient question: Did the Oputa Panel actually reconcile Nigerians? His answer is neither yes nor no. Instead he hangs it by saying in this type of work: “The end is actually the beginning” and any conclusion drawn can only be “tentative” (p. 438). While affirming that the Panel’s assignment was a relevant interrogation of our history, he did admit that reconciliation of Nigerians is a delayed project.
Kukah’s book is a great read, no doubt. It is a product of great mental stamina, and you could see him balancing between all the worlds and publics he reflects. However, Witness To Justice is also full of self-justification. Kukah wants you to see that effort not as a wasted one.
I agree: it does not hurt to look in the mirror. Witness To Justice is a look in the mirror. A fine caption. That is all. It is not really a witness to justice. Nobody was brought to justice. Those who came to look for justice never found it. The President Olusegun Obasanjo regime that set up the Panel did not even publish any White Paper on it, putting a question mark on why he set it up?
How can you call it a “truth commission” when the prime suspects and accused persons refused to appear and tell their own sides of the story? How can there be reconciliation if nobody said sorry for their actions? Even Bishop Kukah used such terms as “their so-called cries against injustice” to refer to petitions sent in by some groups. Oputa Panel was a travesty of “Truth” and “Reconciliation” compared to that of South Africa from where Obasanjo copied the idea. Perhaps, Obasanjo used the Oputa Panel to legitimise his regime?
But as a book of records, our history’s mirror in the sun and an eclectic engagement of the work of the HRVIC, Witness To Justice is a very important and useful national document.
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