Ballon d’Or and the Credibility Question

By: Amir Abdulazeez

I am writing on this not because I have any significant concern for the award or its credibility or because it has any correlation with the wellbeing of anybody in need (which I am often more concerned about). I am rather doing so due to the massive perennial debate it generates especially among youths in Nigeria as well as the misinformed opinions around it. Again, the Ballon d’Or like football itself has transcended sport to become part of international politics and history. I became shocked when I saw a globally renowned Muslim scholar congratulating Ousmane Dembele for winning the 2025 version and hailing its award to a ‘practicing Muslim’. Obviously, the crown now carries political significance that stretches well beyond the pitch.

Since its inception in 1956, the Ballon d’Or has been regarded as football’s most prestigious individual award. Founded by France Football (conceived by sports writers Gabriel Hanot and Jacques Ferran), the award was initially designed to honour the best European player annually, with Stanley Matthews of Blackpool becoming the pioneer winner. Later, it evolved into a global prize, celebrating many other icons. Many have rightly questioned the credibility of the award but mostly on myopic grounds centred around player and club sentiments. However, as a long time football observer, I believe there are much broader issues regarding the credibility of the award that are worth discussing.

Let us start with the politics. During the Cold War (1947-1991), Eastern European players (more aligned to the Soviet Union) often struggled to receive equal recognition despite dazzling performances, while Western European stars (more aligned to the United States and friends) enjoyed more favourable media attention. Although Russian goalkeeper Lev Yashin won the award in 1963, many argue that his case was only the exception that proved the unwritten rule of ‘politics, geography and media exposure consistently play decisive roles’. Today, the award continues to reflect broader inequalities in football. European clubs dominate global coverage, which inflates the recognition of their stars. Players performing in less visible leagues whether in South America, Africa, or Asia rarely receive consideration, even if their contributions are extraordinary.

Another concern is the award’s inconsistent eligibility rules over time. Until 1995, only European players competing in European clubs were considered, excluding legendary figures like Pelé and Diego Maradona from getting even a nomination. It was only after a rule change that non-Europeans in European leagues became eligible, allowing George Weah to win in 1995. Yet, by then, the award had already excluded decades of worthy non-European and non-European based winners. Mild allegations of racism also cast a dark shadow over the award. Many believe players like Didier Drogba, Samuel Eto’o, Yaya Touré, Sadio Mané and Mohammed Salah were routinely ranked below their pedigree. In 2021, French pundit Emmanuel Petit openly questioned whether African players were judged by double standards.

The selection of voters itself raises concerns. Initially restricted to journalists, it later expanded between 2010 and 2015 after a merger with FIFA’s “World Player of the Year,” adding coaches and captains to the electorate whose votes often reflected tribal, national or club loyalties rather than merit. The 2016 reversion to journalist-only voting is perhaps a tacit admission of voting flaws thereby creating difficulties in comparisons across eras. For example, Lionel Messi’s consecutive wins (2009-2013) under a global, mixed electorate cannot be objectively compared to Michel Platini’s (1983-1985) under a European-only jury. The current co-organization with UEFA, which began in 2024, signifies another attempt to lend the award more institutional weight. However, the constant changes in its format and governing alliances suggest an award in search of a stable identity, struggling to balance its commercial ambitions with its original purpose.

Bias towards attacking players has been an emerging hallmark of Ballon d’Or selections. Legendary defenders like Paolo Maldini, Alessandro Nesta, Sergio Ramos and Roberto Carlos, who defined an era of defensive excellence, always fell short. The exception of Fabio Cannavaro in 2006 along with few others in the past, after a World Cup-winning campaign with Italy, serves as a testament to the rarity of a defender being recognized. More recently, Virgil van Dijk’s 2019 narrow runner-up finish sparked debate about whether non-attacking players could ever realistically win in a sport increasingly obsessed with goals and flair. The award relies heavily on football journalists who often prioritize goal highlight reels, statistics and global recognition over tactical nuance and defensive brilliance. Strikers and playmakers dominate the headlines that directly feeds into voting behaviour.

To combat positional bias, a more revolutionary approach could be implemented; nomination by quota. Why not have separate shortlists and voting panels for goalkeepers, defenders, midfielders and forwards? The top three or five of these categories could then be considered for the overall voting and eventual award. This would ensure that the unique skills of each position are evaluated by those who best understand them, guaranteeing that players are judged on their specializations rather than against others with contrasting roles.

The criteria for judgment also lack clarity and consistency. Officially, the award considers individual performance, team achievements, talent, fair play and career consistency. In practice, however, voters often seem swayed by a single outstanding tournament or by sentimental narratives. Luka Modrić’s 2018 victory after Croatia’s World Cup run exemplified this. While Modrić was superb, critics argued that other players had stronger year-round performances, but the emotional weight of Croatia’s fairy tale run tilted the scales. But how comes, this same emotion did not sway voters to select any player from Leicester City’s 2016 Premier League incredible winning team? A pervasive, though often unstated, criterion for many voters is team success. To win the Champions League or a major international tournament has become almost a prerequisite for contention. This creates an inherent unfairness, elevating players in dominant teams while punishing extraordinary individuals in less successful sides. This inconsistency reveals a fundamental confusion: is the award for the "best player", “most popular player” or the "most successful player"?

The timing and calendar controversies is another issue. International tournaments occur every two years, creating periods where national team success heavily influences voting. World Cup years traditionally favour tournament winners, regardless of club form. The recent calendar change to August-July aimed to address this imbalance but created new problems, with voters now contending with assessing performances from overlapping seasons and tournaments. This temporal confusion affects not just voting patterns but public understanding of what the award actually represents; is it recognition for calendar year performance, season achievement or tournament success? The 2013 Ballon d'Or win by Cristiano Ronaldo was critiqued following timing inconsistencies from odd deadline extensions. The current system, which can see a player win a major tournament in the summer and have their performance rewarded a year later, creates a disjointed narrative.

The question of authority is another big one. FIFA represents 211 national associations, UEFA oversees European football's institutional framework, yet it is a private French publication that bestow football's most prestigious individual honour. The comparison with FIFA’s The Best awards and UEFA’s Player of the Year exposes this imbalance. This raises the paradox: why should a magazine possess such outsized influence in determining football’s most prestigious individual accolade, overshadowing awards backed by governing institutions? While there is nothing fundamentally wrong with this, it only emphasizes the need for France Football to show more responsibility by sanitizing and standardizing its award.

I am not in a position to coach France Football on how to reform its awards to minimize the credibility dilemma, they have much better experts who can do that. My concern is to see young football followers and analysts become more informed and equipped for deeper debates that are beyond sentiments. My other concern which has little to do with the Ballon d’Or is to see football giving a little back to its estimated 3.5 billion fans that have made it powerful. While fans give it a lot, the sport appears to be giving almost nothing significant in return. It is sad to see football remaining silent, bias and indifferent in the face of global oppression and injustice. While it took FIFA and UEFA just four days to suspend Russia after its invasion of Ukraine in 2022, both bodies have remained criminally silent over two years since Israel launched its genocide on the football supporting people of Palestine.

 

24-09-2025

The United Nations and Eight Decades of Impotence

 13^th September, 2025

By: Amir Abdulazeez

The United Nations is currently holding its 80^th General Assembly sessions in New York. Some days earlier, the U.S. State Department, under the pretext of national security and anti-terrorism laws, revoked visas for dozens of Palestinian officials, including President Mahmoud Abbas slated to participate, at the General Assembly and a high-level two-state conference. This move drew criticism from the UN itself, EU and some human-rights groups, with calls to relocate Palestinian-related meetings outside New York. This echoes historical precedents, notably the 1988 visa denial to Late Yasser Arafat, which forced the UN to shift one of its sessions to Geneva to allow him participate.

Although the 1947 ‘Headquarters Agreement’ obliges the United States to admit all UN participants, Washington occasionally and selectively invoke security and legal excuses to discriminate between entrants. Such practices explain how the UN’s operations remain vulnerable to U.S. control, thereby undermining its independence, authority and credibility. As the UN marks the 80^th anniversary of the ratification of its charter on 24^th October 2025, the organization which was founded on the ashes of World War II in 1945 faces an existential crisis of credibility and effectiveness.

While it has achieved notable successes in humanitarian aid, educational research and global environmental and health initiatives, its core mission of maintaining international peace and security has been repeatedly undermined by structural and diplomatic flaws. The organization's inability to meaningfully respond to crises from Syria to Ukraine and most visibly in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, has exposed fundamental weaknesses that warrant urgent reform. The UN’s record is one of profound paradox: a body designed for action but often defined by its inaction. Nowhere is this impotence more starkly illustrated than in its 70 years’ failure to resolve the Palestinian question or to hold Israel accountable for its international impunities.

From the outset of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the United Nations assumed a central role by proposing the 1947 Partition Plan, which sought to establish separate independent states for both parties. Although initially conceived as a potential path to peace, the plan was never enforced and the UN has since struggled to translate its own decisions into reality. Further failures are documented in a paper trail of unimplemented resolutions: Security Council Resolution 242 (1967) called for Israel’s withdrawal from territories occupied during the Six-Day War; Resolution 338 (1973) and countless subsequent resolutions reaffirmed this demand that was not only ignored but instead empowered Israel’s massive expansion of illegal settlements.

Beyond the unimplemented resolutions, a critical UN failure in this regard is that of narrative framing. It has been unable to consistently enforce a foundational principle: that the right to self-determination for one people (Israelis) cannot be predicated on the denial of that same right to another (Palestinians). The organization's various bodies often treat the conflict as a symmetrical dispute between two equal parties, rather than an asymmetrical struggle between a nuclear-armed occupying power and a stateless, occupied population living under a brutal blockade.

The core of the UN’s ineffectiveness lies in the flawed decision-making structure of its Security Council, where the five permanent members (United States, Russia, China, France and United Kingdom) hold the autocratic privilege of veto power. This system of outdated World War II geopolitics has frequently paralyzed the organization in hours of need. Since 1946, the veto has been selfishly exercised about 300 times. Between 2011 and 2023, Russia and China blocked 16 resolutions on Syria, enabling the Assad regime’s brutal campaign against civilians. The United States, meanwhile, has used its veto more than 50 times to shield Israel from accountability, making Palestine the single most vetoed issue in UN history. Instead of serving as a platform for global security, the Council has become an arena for shameless and hypocritical power politics.

The General Assembly, despite representing all 193 member states equally, has been relegated to a largely ceremonial role in matters of international peace and security. While the Assembly can pass resolutions by majority vote, these carry no binding legal force and are routinely ignored by powerful nations. The 2012 resolution calling for an arms embargo on Syria passed with 133 votes but had no practical effect, as Russia continued supplying weapons to the Assad government. This has created a two-tiered system where the views of the international majority are systematically subordinated to the interests of Security Council Super Powers.

The selective enforcement of international law has become a defining hallmark of UN impotence. While the organization has at times demonstrated resolve such as coordinating global sanctions against apartheid South Africa in the 1980s or authorizing military intervention in Libya in 2011, its responses to other similar crises have been inconsistent and politically driven. Similarly, the International Criminal Court, often operating with UN support, swiftly indicted leaders of Liberia, Sudan and Libya, yet no Western or allied leaders like George W. Bush or Tony Blair have been held to account for baseless interventions in Iraq, Afghanistan or Yemen. These double standards have eroded the UN’s credibility and moral authority, particularly in the Global South, where it is increasingly viewed as an instrument of Western hegemony.

The UN's peacekeeping apparatus, while successful in some contexts, has also demonstrated significant limitations when confronting determined state actors. The United Nations Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) on the Golan Heights and the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) have maintained buffer zones during their operations, but have been powerless to prevent violations by all parties. During the 2006 Lebanon War and subsequent conflicts, these forces could only observe and report violations rather than enforce compliance.

Financial manipulation has emerged as another tool of selective pressure within the UN system. The United States, which contributes 22% of the UN's regular budget, has repeatedly withheld or threatened to withhold funding to pressure the organization on specific issues. In 2018, the Trump administration cut $285 million from UN peacekeeping operations and reduced contributions to various UN agencies. The UN's human rights mechanisms face similar challenges of selective application and political manipulation. The Human Rights Council, reformed in 2006 to address criticisms of its predecessor, continues to be influenced by bloc voting and political considerations rather than objective human rights assessments. Countries with questionable human rights records have served on the Council while using their positions to deflect criticism and protect allies.

Critics argue that the UN has become a stage for symbolic debates while real decisions and tangible actions are outsourced to global bullies like the US, less formal coalitions like the NATO and regional actors like the EU. For example, the U.S.-brokered Abraham Accords normalized relations between Israel and several Arab states without addressing core Palestinian concerns while side-lining the UN. Similarly, its response to Russia's invasion of Ukraine in 2022 was limited to humanitarian aid and symbolic condemnation, as bodies like EU looked more relevant and assertive.

The rise of new global powers and changing geopolitical realities have rendered the UN's 1945 structure increasingly obsolete. Reform proposals have circulated for decades but have consistently failed due to the resistance of existing power holders. Things have changed since World War II, nations have evolved, others have declined and hence the UN must be reformed to reflect current realities. The permanency of the Security council membership must be reviewed and the senseless veto authority must be abolished or modified along the lines of justice and accountability. As the United Nations approaches its 80th anniversary, the choice is clear: fundamental reform or continued irrelevance.

Maintaining the United Nations system costs about $50–55 billion per year, not counting military deployments and opportunity costs. Beyond money, states commit significant diplomatic, military, humanitarian and bureaucratic resources to maintain their participation. This makes the UN one of the most resource-intensive international organizations ever created. Without serious reforms to address structural inequalities, eliminate veto abuse and restore the primacy of international law over great power politics, the UN risks becoming a historical footnote rather than the cornerstone of the global governance its founders envisioned. The international community must decide whether it will tolerate continued dysfunction or demand the transformative changes necessary to address 21^st century challenges.

A Nostalgic Tribute to Muhammadu Buhari

 July 15, 2025

 

By: Amir Abdulazeez

During the early and mid-months of 2002, I usually visit an uncle (now late) who generously provided me with newspapers often before he even read them himself. On one such visit, I picked up a copy of the Daily Trust, a relatively new publication at the time, and while flipping through its pages, I read the delightful news that not only made me happy but also propelled me into a brief career in partisan politics. Retired General Muhammadu Buhari had decided to join democratic politics and announced his entry into the All Nigerian Peoples Party (ANPP).

At the time, the Obasanjo-led administration was widely perceived to be underperforming, failing to sincerely address Nigeria’s mounting challenges. The PDP had morphed into a formidable political giant, while the ANPP was weakening steadily; other newly registered parties existed only in the briefcases of their founders.  Buhari's decision to join politics at that time represented the single most decisive decision that changed the Nigerian democratic landscape in the last 25 years. Youths, pensioners, activists, comrades, veterans and even fence-sitters found a new rallying point and almost everyone else joined the new messiah.

Although many harbored reservations about Buhari; especially those whose interests had been hurt during his military regime or the post-1999 established elite who saw him as a threat, I was among the countless young Nigerians who adored Buhari to a fault. My admiration for him was so intense that another uncle once felt compelled to caution me. It was just before the 2003 presidential election when he walked into my room, saw a large framed portrait of Buhari on my wall, smiled, and advised me to moderate my obsession.

My love for Buhari began about 30 years ago. The establishment of the Petroleum Trust Fund (PTF) by General Sani Abacha's administration in 1994 coincided with our early years in secondary school. By the time the Fund was a year old in 1995, the name of Muhammadu Buhari was on the lips of virtually all Nigerians. In my estimation then, he was the only tangible good thing about the Abacha government. In fact, he appeared to be more popular than Abacha himself; a hypothesis that reportedly inspired Obasanjo to scrap the Fund in 1999 to avoid ‘running a government inside a government’.

I vividly recall a day in 1995 or 1996 when I accompanied my father to a bookshop. The PTF low-price edition of every book we went to buy was available at a 50% or so discount without any compromise in quality. While paying the money, I could see the smile on my father's face reflecting deep satisfaction and appreciation for the work of the PTF. That was the first time in my life I truly felt and understood the direct impact of government on the people. In pharmacies, PTF drugs were sold at subsidized rates. There was no propaganda, rhetoric, cosmetics, or media packaging; the work of Buhari's PTF was there for everyone to see and touch. I was lucky as a young lad to join elders in travels across the country from 1995-1997. I got tired of seeing the PTF road projects that I once asked: "Why won't this Buhari return as president to fix Nigeria?"

Muhammadu Buhari, a constant figure in Nigerian political discourse since 1983, is now gone. Few anticipated his death, as the brief illness he suffered in London seemed either a rumor or a routine medical trip. Ironically, many of his detractors had "killed" him multiple times in the past; some of them dying before he did. In 2014, former Ekiti State governor Ayo Fayose ran a notorious advert predicting Buhari wouldn’t last months in office if elected. Yet he won, served for eight years, and died just months short of turning 83.

Buhari lived a long, dedicated, and enduring life of service and commitment to Nigeria, spanning about six decades in both military and civilian capacities. Save perhaps for Obasanjo, there’s no Nigerian, dead or alive, matches his array of public portfolios. His personal reputation for discipline, honesty, integrity, and austerity endured throughout his public life. He stood as a symbol of principled and stoic leadership and left behind a legacy that will continue to resonate for generations.

Just before his death, the debate of who made him president in 2015 resurfaced with an exchange of tantrums between some pro-Tinubu and pro-Buhari gladiators. While I found the debate outdated, my position remains that Buhari ought to have become president 12 years earlier. For the avoidance of doubt, Muhammadu Buhari did not lose the 2003 presidential elections, it was brutally rigged to return Obasanjo for a second term. That year’s election ranks among the most fraudulent in modern global history. In 2007, the presidential election results were simply fabricated, so we can't even call that an election, not to talk of who won or lost.

Despite my immense love for Buhari, I was left with no choice but to join his critics after 2015. Less than a year in, it became clear that his government lacked the vision and effectiveness many had hoped for. In 2015, I queued until about 10:00 p.m. to vote for him, believing he was Nigeria’s last chance. By 2018, disappointed, I called for him to serve just one term. I argued then that if he couldn’t lead like Nelson Mandela, he could at least exit like Mandela. By 2021, while in his second term, I was so disillusioned that I openly advocated for his impeachment.

It still remains a mystery how our much beloved, tested and trusted (his campaign slogan in 2003) Buhari failed fell so short of expectations. Some blamed his arrogant and underperforming appointees; others cited a fractured and directionless party. But ultimately, he bore the responsibility. His inability or unwillingness to discipline ineffective ministers eroded his credibility. In 2022, during the eight-month strike by university lecturers, I contacted one of his aides (a relative), who confirmed that it was Buhari’s ministers not Buhari himself who opposed paying the lecturers. Another indicator that he wasn’t really in charge.

In the midst of the storm, Buhari's administration managed to attain some landmark achievements and notable milestones in infrastructure, social welfare, and the fight against terrorism. He delivered the elusive Second Niger Bridge, the Lagos-Ibadan and Abuja-Kaduna railways and upgraded numerous critical road networks. His government implemented the Treasury Single Account (TSA), which significantly improved public financial transparency and curbed leakages. Buhari's war against Boko Haram yielded mixed results but succeeded in reclaiming substantial territory from insurgents. He introduced arguably the largest Social Investment Program in the history of Africa, targeting millions of beneficiaries through initiatives like N-Power, Trader Moni, Survival Fund, Anchor Borrowers Scheme, and conditional cash transfers.

Nigerians are free to hold divergent views on Buhari. But there should be decency in how we express those views. No one is without flaws; we all have our good and bad sides. One day, we too shall pass, and others will speak of us. Buhari had both triumphs and failings; some reaped benefits, others suffered losses. If you can pray for him, please do. If not, be measured in your words.

The past few days have witnessed a flurry of deaths, a sobering reminder that life is fleeting and death inevitable. Today’s giants will one day lie lifeless. When Garba Shehu broke the news of Buhari's death, I immediately made up my mind to put up a tribute. A few minutes after the announcement, I went to his Wikipedia page to corroborate some information about the general. To my surprise, the information about his death had already been updated: "Muhammadu Buhari (1942-2025)"—so swiftly? I said to myself. Baba is gone. May Allah forgive and grant him Jannatul-Firdaus.

Twitter: @AmirAbdulazeez

 

The Proliferation of National ‘Honours’

15^th June, 2025

By: Amir Abdulazeez

If we can recall, on 7^th October, 2015 a 19-year-old student, Hassan Mohammed Damagum sacrificed himself to save others from a suicide bomber who attempted to attack a mosque during the Subh (Dawn) prayer at Buhari Housing Estate in Yobe State. Hassan had sensed that the individual standing next to him was a suicide bomber trying to kill people. The boy was said to have confronted the bomber which blew both of them off. Again, on 25^th January 2017, Yakubu Fannami, another student from Borno State who was just in SS1 died a hero while preventing a suicide bomber from entering at the Darrusalam Science and Islamic Academy in Maiduguri. Fannami tackled the female suicide bomber, preventing her from reaching the mosque and detonating her explosives, thus saving the lives of many worshippers.

To the best of my research which may be inadequate, none of the two boys were publicly given a significant national recognition. The story of Nigeria is replete with the neglect of brave and heroic citizens who had sacrificed a lot and even laid down their lives to save others. Since 1999, Nigeria has always chosen to reward and honour many lazy elites who had contributed virtually nothing, but rather became huge beneficiaries of government patronage and corruption. Every President has made it a duty to dash out national honours to his choice elites in a manner one would do with his personal property.

In line with the routine tradition of his predecessors, President Bola Tinubu used the June 12, 2025 Democracy Day to confer over 100 national honours—some of them posthumously. As expected, many awardees are members of his administration and personalities very close to him. A section of the awardees list portrays a belated compensation package to a gang of Abacha victims, who actually need justice more than honour. While people like Prof. Humphrey Nwosu (CON), Prof. Wole Soyinka (GCON), Alhaji Balarabe Musa (CFR), Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah (CON) and Femi Falana, SAN (CON) truly deserve their awards, it would have been wiser and more balanced to include people like Late Bashir Tofa (Abiola’s NRC opponent), Late Abubakar Rimi and Magaji Abdullahi (two important SDP figures who miraculously delivered Kano, Tofa’s State to Abiola) and of course M.D. Yusufu, the presidential candidate of MDJ who was Abacha’s sole challenger in his bid to undemocratically transform to a civilian president, among others. Perhaps, they would be remembered by this or another President in the next set of awards, for at this rate, every political household name, dead or alive, may soon have a national honour in Nigeria by 2030.

What exactly is this national honour and who are those who deserve it? The honouring system was originally envisioned as a prestigious recognition of exceptional service to the nation and was formally established by the National Honours Act No. 5 of 1964 to inspire patriotism, reward merit and foster national unity. The structure of national honours, divided into two orders (Order of the Federal Republic and Order of the Niger) and eight ranks (GCFR, GCON, CFR, CON, OFR, OON, MFR, MON), was designed to reflect degrees of national impact. However, the system’s proliferation and indiscriminate distribution have undermined these distinctions, often placing true heroes, statesmen and national icons equal or below some presidential sycophants, political loyalists and officeholders, regardless of their performance or public standing.

The early years of Nigeria's national honours system reflected its original purpose. Recipients such as Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, Sir Ahmadu Bello, Chief Obafemi Awolowo and Mrs. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti were honoured for verifiable and transformative contributions. However, over time, the politicization and personalization of the awards diminished its integrity, giving way to an annual ritual often characterised by hundreds of questionable awardees whose contributions to the nation are neither tangible nor verifiable. In the past 15 years, things have gotten worse as the selection system itself have been incompetently reduced to a mechanism marred by political patronage, duplication and credibility crises.

Today, the integrity of this noble initiative is in serious jeopardy, with widespread skepticism about its selection process and relevance. Ideally, recipients should be individuals whose lives exemplify ethical integrity, measurable public impact and selfless service. However, the current trend favours tenure over achievement and proximity to power over merit. Politicians under corruption investigation, individuals with no tangible contributions and business moguls with opaque wealth have all made their way into the honours roll. Prominent Nigerians have rejected national honours in protest. Chinua Achebe, Gani Fawehinmi and Wole Soyinka famously turned down honours in the past, citing corruption, misgovernance and the lack of transparency in the process. Their principled refusals sent powerful messages about the need to restore the credibility of the system. As Achebe aptly put it, ‘a government that fails its people cannot in good conscience bestow honours’.

Numerous scandals have exposed the flaws of the system. In 2022, the conferment of awards to serving ministers during a prolonged ASUU strike and the inclusion of people accused of corruption represented a new low. Even more embarrassing were administrative blunders such as conferring posthumous awards to please certain intersts and duplication of awards to the same person under different titles. Meanwhile, countless unsung heroes remain ignored. Rural teachers shaping future generations, healthcare workers battling epidemics without protection and community leaders mediating conflicts receive no recognition.

Some few non-elitist Nigerians have been reluctantly recognized by the establishment in the past. The belated honour to Dr. Ameyo Stella Adadevoh (posthumous OON, 2022), whose sacrifice averted an Ebola catastrophe in August, 2014, only came after sustained public pressure for about eight years. In August, 2018, then President Muhammadu Buhari and the United States Embassy honoured the Bauchi State-born 83-year old Malam Abubakar Abdullahi, a Muslim Imam in a village in Plateau State. He sheltered and fed 300 Christians for five days to prevent them from being killed in an uprising. The old man ran from one corner to the other stopping youths who wanted to break into the mosque to get hold of his guests. Eventually, they gave up after realizing that the only way to execute their evil plan was to kill the old man. That was how he saved their lives. I am not sure whether the man was given any national honour beyond that presidential acknowledgement.

If we are to continue like this, I will suggest the renaming of the awards to “Special Presidential Honours”.  The National Honours Act, last revised in 2004, offers the President near-total discretion, with little room for public input or institutional checks. With time, it has been turned to a presidential farewell affair as outgoing Presidents routinely populate honours lists upon leaving office to payback loyalists. Recent attempts at reform, such as the proposed National Honours and Merit Award Commission, represent a step forward but are insufficient on their own. Far-reaching legislative and administrative reforms are needed to restore the honours’ integrity. This includes public nominations, independent vetting panels, open selection criteria and mandatory justification of award decisions.

A critical reform must also introduce public objections and transparency mechanisms, such as publishing nominee shortlists and designing revocation protocols. Honours should be rescinded from individuals found guilty of crimes or misconduct post-conferment. The system should no longer shield disgraced figures or treat national honours as irrevocable symbols of status regardless of later behaviour. Furthermore, awards should be capped annually to preserve their exclusivity. Honouring fewer, more deserving Nigerians will increase the prestige of the titles and prevent undeserving awards Most importantly, the honours system must reconnect with the grassroots. By recognising farmers, nurses, teachers, inventors and humanitarian workers, Nigeria can turn the system into a true tool of national inspiration.

All these are by the way as ordinary Nigerians no longer care about leaders honouring themselves and their cronies. No impoverished Nigerian has the luxury of waiting to be honoured by someone whose honour is questionable himself. All Nigerians are asking for is guaranteed security to farm, stable power supply to produce, quality and affordable education to learn, reliable healthcare to survive and stable economy to thrive. When they can provide this, they can go on naming and renaming national monuments after their wives and continue with the vicious cycle of self-glorification in the name of national honours.

 

Twitter: @AmirAbdulazeez

The Politics of Autobiographies

 20^th February, 2025

 By: Amir Abdulazeez

In ancient times and through the Middle ages, people used autobiographies to share hidden truths, make confessions and communicate genuine experiences. Nowadays, they are used by politicians and world leaders for self-justification and self-glorification. Whether in the West, across Africa, or within Nigeria, the pattern remains the same—political figures use autobiographies to rewrite history in their favour, often ignoring their failures or controversies.

Between 1948 to 1954, former British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, published multiple volumes of memoirs that portrayed him as the hero of World War II. While Churchill was undeniably a key figure in the war, his narratives downplayed criticisms of his leadership, including his alleged role in the Bengal Famine of 1943, which resulted in the deaths of millions. His autobiographical works cemented his legacy as a wartime leader while sidestepping his more controversial decisions.

Modern political memoirs have increasingly become exercises in selective storytelling, where leaders carefully articulate their narratives to present themselves in the most favourable light possible. Former United States President, Richard Nixon used his autobiography, ‘The Memoirs of Richard Nixon’, to repair his image after the Watergate scandal. After lying about the possession of weapons of mass destruction as a justification to invade, Tony Blair's ‘A Journey’ and George W. Bush's ‘Decision Points’, cruelly and shamelessly attempted to justify their baseless war in Iraq in 2003.

Across Africa, many leaders have also engaged in this practice of using autobiographies to deny or justify their shortcomings. As good as they were, even the likes of Ghana’s Kwame Nkrumah, Zambia’s Kenneth Kaunda, Tanzania’s Julius Nyerere and Kenya’s Jomo Kenyatta have all been accused of using autobiographies to exaggerate their legacies, downplay their shortcomings and ignore controversies around their stewardships.

In Nigeria, Olusegun Obasanjo’s ‘My Watch’, published in 2014 have been widely criticized for being self-serving. While Obasanjo paints himself as a patriot and a visionary leader, he conveniently overlooked the authoritarian tendencies and allegations of corruption and electoral frauds during his tenure.  Despite all the glaring circumstances that led to the decisive defeat of Dr. Goodluck Jonathan in the 2015 Presidential elections, in his 2018 book ‘My Transition Hours’, he tried so hard to justify and downplay the very actions that led to his downfall while also constructing different conspiracy theories that gave the impression he didn’t lose the elections freely and fairly.

Just, when we thought we have had enough of all these politicized autobiographies, former Military President General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida has released his own memoirs. While being often and correctly presented as one of Nigeria’s finest soldiers, strongest leaders and elder statesmen, we can by no means expect his memoirs to be significantly different from that of other Nigerian, African and world leaders. IBB is unlucky to be one of the most studied and documented Nigerian leaders and there are so many controversies, inconsistencies and tactical deceptions associated to his tenure which no autobiography can reconcile.

One major criticism of IBB’s memoir is its timing. The delayed release suggests a strategic waiting period for public emotions to cool and memories to fade. Apart from the main actors, many other people in the position to validate or refute whatever he might say in his book are dead. In fact, majority of the current generation of Nigerians were not even born when he left power in 1993. In a nutshell, while Babangida’s autobiography may attempt to rationalize many of his decisions, the scars left by the events he presided like the Structural Adjustment programme, state executions, public corruption, endless and wasteful transition programme will remain fresh in the country’s memory.

In Nigeria, what have these autobiographies taught us? Many leaders and political actors have left terrible legacies which they cannot risk leaving in the hands of neutral story tellers. While they should spend the rest of their lives in regret and retrospection, they will rather add salt to injury by releasing half-truths and falsehoods as autobiographies. When they do so, they always have other elitist co-conspirators that benefited from their actions and inactions in power that will gather and celebrate them like heroes.

As a former Nigerian leader, once you are alive and influential, you can always find a way of redeeming your image inspite of your atrocities. I always ask people to imagine if General Sani Abacha was still alive, who will dare recover any foreign loot associated to him? Who doesn’t have skeletons in their cupboards? Unfortunately for Abacha, apart from been dead, he had also stepped on most, if not all of the toes that would’ve protected him and again, one of the most affected became President just 11 months after his death.

Not all are the same. There are patriotic Nigerian leaders, statesmen and freedom fighters who deserve to write autobiographies. Unfortunately, when they do, theirs get drowned in the ocean of the negative ones who are richer and more popular. By tradition, you know Nigerians will always promote and accept something that is popular and elegant instead of one that is truthful and honest. This is why you don’t hear trending biographies about Gani Fawehinmi, Abdulkadir Balarabe Musa, etc.

All in all, everyone has a right to his own opinion and narrative of events the way he wants people to view them. While autobiographies provide valuable insights into the minds of world leaders, they must be read with a critical eye. Readers must recognize that these books are not always honest reflections of history but are, more often than not, carefully crafted narratives designed to preserve a leader’s legacy. Memoirs of political leaders often serve more as instruments of image control than as genuine historical accounts. The ultimate judgment of political leaders should rest not in the pages of their autobiographies but rather in the lived experiences of their citizens and the tangible impacts of their policies.

I read three autobiographies recently and I found them to be outstanding and honest; Sir Ahmadu Bello’s ‘My Life’, Nelson Mandela’s ‘Long Walk to Freedom’ and Mahatma Gandhi’s ‘The Stories of My Experiments with Truth’. Sardauna’s was simple, least self-glorifying and occasionally self-critical. Mandela’s was strictly a chronicle of collective struggles, only mentioning but leaving out details about subjective issues and cleverly terminating his story to the point he was inaugurated as President. He left the story of his presidency to be told by others. Gandhi’s was the best; when he was literally forced to write his memoirs in 1925, he rather named it ‘my experiments’, it was the translators that added the word ‘autobiography’. He never wanted to write because he believes if your actions are right, there is nothing to boast about it, for the wrong ones, there will always be many people to help you write them.

 

Twitter: @AmirAbdulazeez