THE NATION
n early August 1994, Dr Doyin Abiola, managing director/editor-in-chief of Concord Newspapers and I, editorial page editor and chair of the Editorial Board from Guardian Newspapers, but with no authority from management, went to see Lateef Jakande, General Sani Abacha’s senior minister, in his residence in Ilupeju, Lagos.
Of the major privately-owned newspapers, only Vanguard, Champion and Tribune were still in circulation. The Guardian, Punch and Concord had been banned by the Abacha regime for, in its judgement, lending sympathy overtly or covertly to June Twelvers, the groups challenging the annulment of the 1993 presidential election.
So were the vibrant newsmagazines– TheNews, Tell, and the weekly Tempo. ThisDay was still on the board.
Even the Sketch, a regional newspaper owned by the government of the states that formerly constituted Western Nigeria, was not spared,
How could Jakande, a pillar of the Nigerian press, continue to serve in a government that banned some of the nation’s best newspapers?
That was the question we put to him after laying out the impact of the ban on the right of the public to receive and impart news, information and ideas as spelt out in the section of the national constitution that had not been repealed, the lives and wellbeing of media workers, and on the industry.
He listened attentively. Not once did he interrupt our presentation. Then, in a voice that registered just above a whisper, he said we should go and see General Oladipo Diya whose position as the regime’s Chief of General Staff was ranked in the popular imagination with that of a prime minister.
This was clearly a false equivalence, but no matter. For one thing, it did no harm. For another, it humoured Diya and his acolytes.
Following that meeting, Dr Abiola and I, together with Dr Yemi Ogunbiyi, president of the Newspaper Proprietors Association of Nigeria, headed to Abuja to meet Diya.
His residence was a bunker, with sandbags piled almost to the ceiling. It was late evening. But even if it had been broad daylight, there would not have been enough natural light to transact any serious business. The resident was cut off completely from the hustle and bustle, the sounds and the smells, of the outside.
“What a life?” I sighed in self-communion.
You could not but admire Diya’s military bearing. His presence was commanding but not intimidating. He made you feel at ease.
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