By Dare Babarinsa/
Chairman, Gaskia Media Ltd
March 3, 2025
Despite his long absence from the epicenter of power, General Ibrahim Babangida remains an enduring figure of fascination. The attention drawn by his recently published autobiography, My Journey in Service, underscores his lasting grip on the public imagination—whether for good or ill. Love him or hate him, you cannot ignore him. Younger Nigerians may not fully grasp Babangida’s mystique, yet his career has profoundly shaped the country we live in today.
Destiny offered Babangida a place in history, but through reckless and self-serving decisions, he destroyed the very house he had painstakingly built. Chief among his missteps was the annulment of the June 12, 1993, election—the freest and fairest in Nigerian history. Now, whatever else he may struggle with in his twilight years, his legacy is forever tied to that singular act of betrayal.
Unlike Babangida, Chief Moshood Kashimawo Olawale Abiola never had the chance to tell his side of the story. Abiola was a man eager to display his affection for Babangida. In those days, as you ascended the staircase of Abiola’s palatial Ikeja mansion, a giant portrait of Babangida adorned the wall—a testament to their friendship. Abiola had everything: wealth, influence, and connections. But he also accumulated dangerous, envious enemies whom he mistook for friends.
His foray into politics during the Second Republic pitted him against the formidable Chief Obafemi Awolowo, the first Premier of the Western Region. Despite his immense wealth, Abiola relied on his powerful military friends to propel his political ambitions—one of whom was Babangida.
It is widely believed that Abiola’s fortune skyrocketed through his close ties with General Murtala Muhammed, who served as Minister of Communications under General Yakubu Gowon. When Gowon was overthrown in 1975, Murtala became Head of State, and Abiola’s fortunes flourished. However, when Murtala was assassinated in the failed coup of February 13, 1976, General Olusegun Obasanjo took over, and Abiola’s privileged access continued.
Abiola later joined the National Party of Nigeria (NPN), but despite his wealth, the party struggled to gain traction in Yorubaland. The Yoruba people had not forgotten the historical conflicts with the Fulani elite who dominated the NPN, dating back to the 19th-century wars when the Fulani, after seizing Ilorin, sought to subjugate the rest of Yorubaland under the guise of spreading Islam. Their relentless quest for dominance was evident even in the First Republic when they orchestrated the political downfall of Awolowo.
By 1982, Abiola had grown disillusioned and distanced himself from partisan politics. However, when the military overthrew President Shehu Shagari’s government on December 31, 1983, his old friends returned to power. Some speculated that Abiola had even played a role in the coup. His immense success made him a target—too wealthy, too visible, too ambitious.
Like the man in the Ifa mythology who was too well-fed and sought medicine to burst his swollen belly, Abiola kept seeking new battles to fight. He craved visibility and honors—becoming the Pillar of Sports in Africa, the Bashorun of Ibadan, and a global advocate for reparations for the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. But his ambitions soon put him on a collision course with his old friends.
In 1991, the African Concord, a publication owned by Abiola, ran a story critical of Babangida’s regime. In response, Babangida’s government shut down the entire Concord newspaper group. In an attempt to make peace, Abiola urged his editor, Bayo Onanuga, to issue an apology. Onanuga refused, writing: “I am not going to write any apology to anyone!” He resigned along with his colleagues—Kunle Ajibade, Femi Ojudu, Dapo Olorunyomi, and Seye Kehinde—to establish TheNEWS magazine.
Despite these setbacks, Abiola’s faith in Babangida remained unshaken. In 1992, I accompanied Abiola on a trip to Gorée Island, Senegal, for his global reparations campaign. During our return flight, I interviewed him for TELL magazine. He insisted he was done with politics: “What else do I want in my life?” I believed him.
Then he visited Babangida at the newly built Aso Rock Presidential Villa. Babangida gave him a tour, culminating in a moment inside the presidential office. “This would be your office,” Babangida assured him. Abiola believed him—and plunged into the presidential race, a decision that led to the June 12 debacle.
My late boss, Dele Giwa, also believed Babangida was his friend. In early 1986, my colleague Chuks Iluegbunam covered the trial of Major-General Mamman Vatsa and others accused of plotting to overthrow Babangida. When I saw Vatsa in handcuffs and leg chains, I told Newswatch’s Editorial Board: “He will be executed. You don’t do this to a general unless you intend to finish him.”
“But he is Babangida’s childhood friend,” Giwa argued. “Babangida was his best man at his wedding.”
Giwa believed Babangida would spare Vatsa. He was wrong. On the day General Domkat Bali announced the executions, he bluntly declared: “In the military, the price of treason is death!”
Not long after, death came for Giwa himself. On October 19, 1986, he received a letter bomb that ended his life.
Babangida insists in his autobiography that he knew nothing about Dele Giwa’s murder. I believe him. But history—and the restless ghosts of his friends—may have a different verdict.
One day, Babangida will embark on the inevitable journey to meet his Maker. Before the Judgement Throne, his elaborate deceptions and half-truths will be of no use. As the French philosopher Voltaire once said:
“Lord, protect me from my friends; I can take care of my enemies.”
– The End –
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