The biggest political news out of Nigeria in the past week was the launch of A Journey in Service: An Autobiography written by Ibrahim B. Babangida, former military president of Nigeria aka IBB aka Maradona aka The Evil Genius.
The book, an account of his military and “political” life has been long awaited and the turn-out of political figures at the launch in Abuja on Thursday 20 February 2025 was proof. General Yakubu Gowon alludes to this in his foreword where he notes that:
I know that A JOURNEY IN SERVICE is a response to a long-standing demand of many Nigerians. Given the monumental and historical changes that General Babangida presided over, it is only natural that many Nigerians of different generations would be eager to learn first-hand the motivations, the actual events, and the reasons behind these far-reaching policies, decisions, and events, some of which shook the nation to its very foundations.
Dedicated to his late parents, fallen comrades in arms and his late wife, Maryam Ndidi Babangida the 397 page book ( if you discount the copious index) is described as an autobiography with Babangida taking full responsibility for the tale that is told but those hoping to learn about the motivations behind his actions will most likely come away disappointed as the famed Maradona dribbles, equivocates and prevaricates in his tale.
Although the book presents General Ibrahim Babangida’s version of his leadership, it ultimately reads as an attempt to sanitise his controversial role in Nigeria’s history. The autobiography portrays him as a visionary reformer, while largely sidestepping, downplaying and evading responsibility for the most contentious aspects of his rule—most notably, the annulment of the June 12, 1993, presidential election, his economic policies’ devastating impact, and the culture of corruption that flourished under his administration.
In his recollections of the June 12 1992 elections and the resulting tragedy, Babangida begins the chapter with:
on our first day in office in 1985, we decided that an agreed-upon date for the handover to a democratically elected government would be our top priority. General Gowon’s perceived error of judgment when he changed an agreed-upon handover date to civil rule in 1975 was etched in our memory. We were determined to learn from the mistakes of the past.
But did he? Despite the benefit of hindsight, Babangida and his co-travellers went ahead to not just shift the return to civil rule date but annulled what has been celebrated as “the freest and fairest election in Nigeria”. The annulment, seen as a betrayal of democracy, plunged Nigeria into political chaos and set the stage for further military rule. In the book, Babangida offers vague justifications, but there is little real accountability for his role in this crisis.
Justifying the shifting of goal posts, he writes in true IBB fashion that “however, we were also determined to learn from the mistakes, of 1979, when many of us believed that the Obasanjo administration abruptly handed power over to a civilian government.”
The June 12 elections were held despite plans to truncate it but things took a nasty turn after 50% of the votes had been announced when the National Electoral Commission (NEC) led by Professor Humphrey Nwosu stopped the announcement of results on June 16. By June 23, the election widely believed to have been won by MKO Abiola of the SDP was annulled.
And in Babangida’s book, the wily general writes that he was outflanked by fifth columnists and “nefarious inside forces.” A long excerpt is necessary at this juncture for context:
And then, on June 16, without my knowledge or prior approval, NEC Chairman, Professor Nwosu, announced the suspension of the June 12 election results ‘until further notice’. I knew instantly that certain fifth columnists were at work and that there was a need for extra care! And even after that suspension of the announcements of results, ABN obtained another ‘strange’ court order from Justice Saleh’s court in Abuja, stopping the release of the results of the elections…. On the morning of June 23, I left Abuja for Katsina to commiserate with the Yar’Adua family over the death of their patriarch, Alhaji Musa Yar’Adua. The funeral had taken place, and as I got ready to leave, a report filtered to me that the June 12 elections had been annulled. …Admiral Aikhomu’s press secretary, Nduka Irabor, had read out a terse, poorly worded statement from a scrap of paper, which bore neither the presidential seal nor the official letterhead of the government, annulling the June 12 presidential elections. I was alarmed and horrified. Yes, during the stalemate that followed the termination of the results announcement, the possibility of annulment that could lead to fresh elections was loosely broached in passing. But annulment was only a component of a series of other options. But to suddenly have an announcement made without my authority was, to put it mildly, alarming. I remember saying: ‘These nefarious ‘inside’ forces opposed to the elections have outflanked me!’ I would later find out that the ‘forces’ led by General Sani Abacha annulled the elections. There and then, I knew I was caught between ‘the devil and the deep blue sea’!! From then on, the June 12 elections took on a painful twist for which, as I will show later, I regrettably take responsibility.
Babangida took power in 1985 through a coup, promising reforms and democratisation. However, his tenure saw Nigeria’s economic decline due to his adoption of Structural Adjustment Programs (SAP), which devalued the Naira, increased inflation, and exacerbated poverty. His narrative attempts to frame these policies as necessary economic restructuring, but the book fails to adequately address the suffering they caused for ordinary Nigerians.
Corruption also became deeply entrenched during his administration, with many seeing his regime as the origin of Nigeria’s modern kleptocracy. While the book acknowledges the need for institutional reforms, it does not meaningfully address how corruption thrived under his watch or the consequences of his policies on governance and national stability.
Other controversial issues addressed in the book include the Dele Giwa murder by parcel bomb, the Vatsa and Orka coups, the OIC palaver, the anti-SAP riots and the death of 159 souls aboard the ill-fated C130 Hercules military aircraft. And in his telling nothing new emerges.
Ultimately, A Journey in Service is less an honest reckoning with history and more an exercise in self-justification. It offers some insight into Babangida’s thinking but fails to confront the full weight of his administration’s failures, making it a disappointing, incomplete and highly selective account of his legacy. It reads more as a journey in (dis)service but the discerning reader will find the warning right at the beginning.
In his prologue to the book, Maradona makes it clear that he is about to dribble the reader by noting that “this book may disappoint those whose eagerness for my memoirs. is driven by curiosity about the more dramatic moments of our tenure. This is not a book about finding blame, inventing excuses, or whitewashing known facts.”
I was disappointed.
