By Pastor Stanley Ajileye
A greater part of a man’s history may consist of his unconscious actions and inactions. Those seemingly insignificant moments when a man speaks without thinking, acts without restraint or behaves without considering the consequences may eventually become the most enduring chapters of his story. The irony is that while men may forget their unguarded moments, history has an excellent memory.
I once had an encounter with the late Chief Adeleye Fagbemi, a reputable High Chief of Ekinrin-Adde, a veteran journalist, former Editor of The Punch Newspaper and later Administrator of The Herald Newspaper. He was one of the mentors whose professional exploits and intellectual disposition inspired me in the business of the pen.
During a conversation with me and some of my friends sometime in the 1980s, Chief Fagbemi made a rather subtle but profound observation. He said that the entire thing we call history is nothing more than the story of man, HIS-STORY.
More than three decades after that encounter, the simplicity of that statement continues to resonate with me. I have come to appreciate that history is not merely about what men achieve, the positions they occupy or the accolades they receive. It is equally about their conduct, their choices, their integrity and, sometimes, their spectacular failures.
The unfolding political drama surrounding the Senate seat in Kogi West has provided another practical lesson in this regard. It has exposed some rather disturbing character traits in individuals whom many of us had previously regarded as honourable.
Indeed, it has left me wondering: WHERE IS THE HONOUR OF THE SO-CALLED HONOURABLES?
Following the APC senatorial primary election, I was bewildered when reports emerged that a man who had publicly addressed his people, announced his withdrawal from the contest and did not even visit any of the primary election venues was subsequently laying claim to victory in an election he had apparently abandoned.
I found the development so incredible that I joined other Kogi West APC stakeholders in addressing a World Press Conference to challenge the claim.
I recall, quite vividly, that while responding to questions from journalists, I made a categorical assertion that Samuel Bamidele Aro would never descend to making such a frivolous claim. My confidence in that assertion was informed by the opinion I had formed of him as an honourable man.
Today, I find myself asking a rather uncomfortable question: WHERE IS THAT HONOUR?
What has happened to the man I once considered honourable? Can the people of Kogi State continue to repose confidence in a political figure whose conduct, as alleged in the proceedings surrounding this matter, has raised serious questions about his relationship with the truth?
If a man can make a claim before a court that others familiar with the events consider fundamentally inconsistent with what transpired, and then proceed to defend that position with further arguments, what becomes of the moral authority of the individual involved?
Is political ambition now a sufficient justification for abandoning the elementary principles of honour and truth?
And then came the congratulatory messages!
I read reports of a Local Government Chairman congratulating Mr Aro over the court verdict. Not satisfied with congratulating him, the Chairman proceeded to commend the judge, describing the judgment as evidence that there is hope for Nigeria and that the judiciary remains the last hope of the common man.
What an irony!
I am not opposed to congratulatory messages. Indeed, political victories deserve celebrations, and nobody should begrudge another man his moment of triumph. But there is something profoundly disturbing about celebrating a judgment without first asking whether the circumstances surrounding it deserve such enthusiastic endorsement.
Does the Chairman not know what happened during the primary? Does he not know what the people know? Or has political loyalty suddenly acquired the magical power to erase collective memory?
Perhaps the Chairman has discovered a new version of the truth, one that is available only to those who occupy political offices.
But I have a more fundamental question: WHERE IS THE HONOUR OF MR CHAIRMAN?
If the judiciary is indeed the last hope of the common man, should political office holders not be among those most committed to protecting its integrity? Is the judiciary’s credibility enhanced by praising every judgment that favours one’s political interest, irrespective of the questions it raises?
Unfortunately, the honour of the judiciary itself has also become a subject of public interrogation.
I have been struggling to understand the reasoning behind the reported conclusion that Senator Sunday Steve Karimi’s primary election was not supervised by INEC.
This is particularly puzzling when considered against the earlier argument attributed to Mr Aro, who reportedly maintained that he participated in the same primary election with Senator Karimi and even claimed to have secured more votes.
Now, permit me to ask a few questions.
If both men participated in the same primary election, at what point did INEC disappear? Did the electoral umpire supervise one candidate’s participation and abandon the other? Did INEC officials suddenly develop selective blindness, closing their eyes while Karimi’s votes were being counted, only to reopen them when Aro’s votes were being counted?
Or did the electoral process take place in two different locations, with INEC supervising one and taking an unscheduled excursion to a nearby beer parlour during the other?
Perhaps somebody should explain this electoral magic to the bewildered people of Kogi West.
Of course, the actual facts, the evidence presented and the reasoning contained in the full judgment deserve proper scrutiny. But that is precisely why questions must be asked and answered. A judgment does not become immune from public examination simply because it emanated from a courtroom.
The gavel may command authority, but it does not confer infallibility.
A judge is human. A courtroom is not a sanctuary from reason, and a judicial pronouncement is not necessarily beyond intellectual interrogation. The judiciary earns public confidence not merely through the pronouncements of its judges but through the quality, consistency and credibility of the reasoning behind those pronouncements.
This brings me to an uncomfortable conclusion: we may still have some Awada keri-keri judges in our courtrooms.
I am deliberately invoking this expression because Nigerians understand the imagery. It speaks to a situation where what is presented as genuine is anything but genuine, where appearances are carefully packaged to conceal an inconvenient reality.
The last time I witnessed what I considered a miscarriage of justice of comparable political significance was in 2015, during the controversial Faleke versus Yahaya Bello political succession dispute in Kogi State.
History, it appears, has a way of revisiting familiar territories, sometimes with different characters but remarkably similar scripts.
But I will resist the temptation to write the judgment before the final chapter. The courts have their responsibilities, the politicians have their ambitions, and history has its own independent assignment.
My concern, however, is not limited to the immediate political contest. It is about the gradual erosion of the meaning of honour in our public life.
Today, almost everybody is addressed as Honourable. We have Honourable this, Honourable that, Distinguished this and Distinguished that. The titles are distributed with astonishing generosity. Yet, one wonders whether the character required to justify these titles has become increasingly scarce.
When did honour become a prefix rather than a virtue?
When did integrity become negotiable, truth become optional and public morality become subject to political convenience?
A man may occupy the Senate, a judge may sit on the Bench, and a Chairman may preside over a Local Government Council. But none of these positions automatically makes its occupant honourable.
Honour is not conferred by the ballot box. It is not obtained through a judicial pronouncement. It is not acquired by political appointment, nor can it be manufactured by the generous use of titles.
Honour is earned through character.
And that brings me back to my late mentor, Chief Adeleye Fagbemi. His observation about history being HIS-STORY has acquired a deeper meaning for me.
The men currently involved in this Kogi West political drama may believe they have won a battle. Some may be celebrating, others may be congratulating, and a few may already be rehearsing victory speeches.
But the story is not over.
Tomorrow, when the noise of political celebrations has subsided, when the offices have been vacated and when the titles no longer command attention, what will remain is the story each individual has written through his actions and inactions.
History will not ask how many times a man was addressed as Honourable. It will ask whether he lived honourably.
To Mr Aro, to the Local Government Chairman and to the judicial authority whose pronouncement has generated these questions, I have only one message:
Please, write your stories carefully. The future generation will read them.
And to Mr Justice, I deliberately reserve the prefix Honourable. Not out of disrespect for the institution you represent, but because I believe that honour, particularly in the administration of justice, must be demonstrated through conduct and the quality of decisions.
Let the records speak. Let the evidence speak. Let the judgment speak. And let history have the final word.
As for the people of Kogi West, they deserve more than political theatrics. They deserve truth, fairness and justice.
After all, a title may survive in a man’s name long after his honour has departed from his character.
WHERE, THEN, IS THE HONOUR OF THE SO-CALLED HONOURABLES?
– Pastor Stanley Ajileye writes from Lokoja.
