In Nigeria no one, certainly not the military leaders, listened or respected human rights clauses of the United Nations. It is important that while we condemn the high-handedness of Ibrahim Babangida and Sani Abacha during their evil regimes, we should also condemn with the same degree of seriousness the assault on individual freedoms perpetrated by Buhari through the obnoxious and overnight laws manufactured by his government. Certainly the Nigerian press will not forget Buhari in a hurry because, as English playwright William Shakespeare aptly noted, the evil that men do shall live long even after their demise.
In the 18th century, Libertarian and utilitarian philosopher John Stuart Mill had argued persuasively for an open market place of ideas where the weak and the strong, men and women, minorities and majorities should be free to express themselves and seek the truth. Mill was an apostle of unrestricted freedom of expression. His much-admired thesis, captured by the authors of the Four Theories of the Press, is that a society that silences an opinion actually silences the truth because a wrong opinion may contain some elements of truth necessary to determine the whole truth. Mill must have shifted in his grave when Buhari and Idiagbon embarked on the road to infamy through enactment of Decree 4. That is now an old story but in the history of journalism practice in Nigeria, the impact of that law is still being felt despite the revocation of that law. Seventeen years after its enactment and sixteen years after its repeal, Decree 4 and the iniquities associated with it, its authors and defenders still touch the sore nerves of Nigerian journalists.
If Decree 4 was historic so too are the recent confessions of the number one defender of that law -- the then director of public prosecutions Moshood Olayiwola Adio. It is an act of humility, indeed self-flagellation, to observe Moshood Adio admit publicly that there were injustices inherent in the very law he defended. His sudden transformation is ennobling. In the new-era religious phraseology one could say that Adio has finally seen the light. Adio's confessions are astounding and revealing. They say a lot about the man and his inner desire to purge himself of the injustice that was Decree 4. Hear him: I was part of the team that prosecuted them and I share my guilt... It is not a good legislation for a civilised society. That was censorship when even if you published the truth you have committed an offence. If there are now any question marks about Adio's confessions, one of those questions must be why it took him 17 years to come out and purge his heart of the burden of that guilt. He ought to have done so a long time ago. Indeed, if he was afraid of being incarcerated by Buhari, the overthrow of Buhari's government provided him the security he needed to expose the unjust letters of that law. He didn't do so. The Nigerian press must be justified to dismiss this astonishing display of penitence. Adio had all the time in the world to clarify his role in defending that decree. He didn't do so. He blew the chance in the arrogant manner of public prosecutors who believe they are the only ones endowed with knowledge of the best way civil society ought to be administered.
But Adio's confessions serve a useful purpose. Tunde Thompson and Nduka Irabor, who went to jail because of an evil law, can now find relief in the sense that the chief defender of Decree 4 and the very man who mounted arguments that led to their conviction, has finally confessed. Adio's confessions must be documented and recorded in the history books. Adio must now go one step further and apologise personally and publicly to the direct victims of Decree 4: The Guardian newspapers and the two former senior staff of the newspaper, Tunde Thompson and Nduka Irabor.
However we need to acknowledge that it is not easy for a public servant, who achieved notoriety because of his defence of an unpopular and odious military decree, to offer his regrets in regard to his role in defending that law. We must not hold it against Adio that his confessions arrived 17 years too late. In matters of repentance, no time is too late or too early. Adio was right in his observations. Decree 4 gave sweeping protection to public officials and, although he did not admit this, it also sought to elevate official lies to a new art form. Decree 4 supported the dark forces in Buhari's government. Whereas openness in government is highly cherished in many civilised societies, Decree 4 in Nigeria tended to elevate secrecy to a high art. As Adio pointed out, the law (Decree 4) protected public officers from publications of not only what is untrue but (also) what is true about them. This is ludicrous.
The irony of Decree 4 is evident in the crusading credentials of Buhari and Idiagbon. These were men who showed determination to reform society (or so we thought) through the sloganeering campaign of War Against Indiscipline. The campaign was not meant only to instill discipline in the nation's work ethic and consciousness, it was also perceived as a campaign to re-position Nigeria and its people toward assuming a sense of responsibility, honesty and forthrightness.
Decree 4 and its letters exposed the hypocrisy beneath the tough veneer of Buhari and Idiagbon. Where the War Against Indiscipline reinforced order and responsibility, Decree 4 depicted a society trying hard to return to the Old Stone Age, the era of the Tudors and Stuarts of 17th century England. In no time, everyone began to wonder whether Buhari and Idiagbon were sending contradictory signals to the nation. Decree 4 showed a nation with a leadership that lacked foresight, a nation that preached one thing and practised something different. Under Buhari and Idiagbon, inconsistency became a virtue. The next confessor must be the high priest of Decree 4 himself, Muhammadu Buhari. Whether he would do so remains a mystery.