By Okey Ikechukwu
At the time he wrote The Politics of Biafra and the Future of Nigeria nearly ten years ago, Hon Chudi Offodile probably thought he was just contributing to enlightened discourse on the following three issues: (1) The Biafra and Igbo question against the background of obvious persecution and (not-so-obvious) self-inflicted problems; (2) The convoluted relationship crisis between the various ethnic groups in Nigeria, with emphasis on avoidable historical missteps, and (3) The challenges of nationhood and inclusive leadership in a fractured and fractious nation that has been on the path of nihilism for far too long.
Offodile’s book presents thoughts that should be made general knowledge and (possibly) recommended as compulsory literature for his Igbo kith and kin. Yes, compulsory reading because this presents a unique re-consideration and re-interpretation of the very history of the Nigerian State. It uses the Biafran experience as a peg on which to hang many things that should have since been said and done about the Federal Republic of Nigeria; but which have been left unsaid and undone.
One of the things I noted after reading the book back then was that it stood out in its attempt to refocus Ndigbo on their real problems. The author called for realism. He invited Ndigbo to reinvent their sense of history, instead of always settling for hysteria in their public political commentary. And the book was well received. It was well publicized. It was also reviewed by several individuals.
I refrained from public commentary on the book at the time for three main reasons, as follows: (1) There were already enough reviews and comments, one or two of which were so “misrepresentative” of the thrust of the work that I thought it was best to let the season pass, (2) Sometimes the best way to help a cause is to bring it up when it will attract the greatest attention – which is when no one else is talking about it, and (3) I did not think that Offodile’s passionately argued narrative should suffer the indignity of being treated as exciting “seasonal” literature and nothing more.
A work that makes a serious attempt to connect the history of the Nigeria–Biafra War with the unresolved political questions of contemporary Nigeria, and which examines the war and the evolution of Igbo political thought in a post-war Nigeria which also addressing the continuing debate on restructuring, federalism and self-determination deserves more than passing attention.
One important question that stares at us from Offodile’s book is this: “What does the Biafran experience tell us about the political structure and future of Nigeria, and especially the future and fortunes of Ndigbo within it?” A superficial reader can easily assume from the title that the book offers a conventional account of the Biafran War. This was the mistake of some commentators and reviewers, as they expressed their views without fully understanding the book under reference.
The author was not satisfied to simply navigate the subject of Igbo identity, the two military interventions of 1966, the Aburi accord and its aftermath, the civil war and its politics, and the roles played by such key Nnamdi Azikiwe and Emeka Ojukwu. He was also not satisfied to merely take the reader through the realities of post-war Igbo politics and the emergence of later-day self-determination movements, no! He rounds it all up by resolutely leading the conversation towards the possibility of a better and greater Nigerian future, with restructuring as an issue for serious consideration.
Offodile challenges dated interpretations, caked perspectives and fossilized assumptions about the nature and causes of the Igbo problem in Nigeria. He examines the historical and political roles of Nnamdi Azikiwe Emeka Ojukwu, and Gowon, while not leaving out Achebe over aspects of pre-independence NCNC politics and Azikiwe’s historical role. And it must be said here, for the record, that one of the core strengths of this book is the writer’s bold interrogation of respected individuals and views.
His discussion of the Aburi question is particularly important because he does not pussyfoot on this event that led to one of the greatest crises in Nigeria’s history. And it is from this singular fact that the author deftly ventures into his discourse on federalism, trust, political leadership and the consequences of failing to reach a durable constitutional settlement in a nation like Nigeria.
And it all fits the book’s broader perspective and argument, namely, that the best way to understand the Biafran crisis is to first admit that it was not just a purely and exclusively ethnic conflict. It had an underlying political economy, a dimension that can be traced to a crisis of constitutional structure, the question of political power and competing ideas about how Nigeria should be governed.
Concerning federalism, the book posits a dramatically consequential proposition that calls for an “inclusive, equitable and proper federal structure”. Beyond that, he warns that failure, or refusal, to reform Nigeria’s political structure holds the prospect of continuously generating lasting instability and unending demands for self-determination.
Offodile avoids the very convenient and lazy approach of presenting the Biafra question simply as: “Should Nigeria remain one country or should Biafra return? He notes, instead, that we may need to consider this more unsettling and complicated question: “Can Nigeria be restructured sufficiently to make coexistence more politically rewarding and acceptable to its constituent units”?
And it is here, and also in this regard, that the book establishes its stature and relevance as a work of great national significance. It is not about Ndigbo or the South-East, no! It pushes forth an embedded problem in the question of how to accommodate diversity within a functioning federation. With that, what stands forth is no longer partly or exclusively Igbo issue, but a Nigerian problem.
Then comes Offodile’s telling submission on Igbo politics. His criticism of aspects of Igbo political leadership after the war has every leg to stand upon. He does not join the bandwagon of those who hold marginalization and “external” forces responsible for all Igbo problems in Nigeria since after the civil war.
His bold assertion that the quality of leadership in Igboland has a hand in the matter has more than passing merit. His submissions on the roles played by internal political failures in contributing to, reinforcing or orchestrating the problems are mostly spot on.
He distances himself from the wholesale thesis of Igbo victimhood being touted by presumed defenders of Igbo interests. This level of objectivity, insight and the courage to speak up adds fillip to the strength of this book. It makes it a strong, rigorous and radically important contribution to the conversation because a historically serious account has to be able to examine both external structures and internal agency in any political or historical engagement.
As for those who have argued that Offodile made his political, constitutional and other preferences very obvious in the book, I ask: “Why would any self-respecting individual put pen to paper unless he has something he believes and want to say. To say that his advocacy of restructuring and competitive federalism means that he has taken sides in a debate he is moderating is to overlook that fact that he convened the debate simply in order to push a point of view.
He was not making any neutral, antiseptic submission, but he is not subjecting the reader to a detached historical reconstruction. He set out to push a particular narrative and a particular conception of what Nigeria’s political future should be and how to go about it. That only invites reflection and possible alternative points of view. It shows that the author did not set out to perform an academic exercise.
A determined advocacy validates itself if, in making its case, it tenders cogent arguments without precluding other points of view. He has given his interpretation to complicated events and is inviting the reader to on a journey that should interest anyone who is interested in war and military history, power politics and much more.
It is to the eternal credit of the author that he drives home the point that the idea of Biafra goes far beyond a dared historical event that ended in January 1970. The Politics of Biafra and the Future of Nigeria gives us a perspective on Biafra that exposes it as an unresolved political national blight, with implications that continue to influence and also haunt our politics to this day.
In connecting the civil war to later movements, such as MASSOB, and to contemporary arguments about restructuring and self-determination, Offodile argues that the political conditions that precipitated the original crisis have not been properly, or adequately, addressed. He also implies that historical grievances can always reappear in new political forms in the steady match of national events.
All things considered, Ndigbo should take another look at Chudi Offodile’s book, as reviewed above. It questions received wisdom or (more appropriately) received ignorance, it emphasizes the true political history of the Biafran crisis, it presents Azikiwe and other actors in a new light, it establishes undeniable linkages between the Civil War to post-war Igbo politics and argues that Nigeria’s constitutional structure remains central to the country’s political difficulties.
This book invites the reader to move from “Who was right in the Civil War?” to the more challenging concern of determining the type of political arrangement can create the right ecosystem for Nigerians to live together as one people. And it is against this background that the book has become even more relevant today.
Ndigbo, Remember Offodile’s Book.