History Is Knocking: Memory as Weapon; Will Nigeria Lift the Shield or March Blind into Repetition?

By George Omagbemi Sylvester | Published by SaharaWeeklyNG.com

“REMEMBER or REPEAT; Nigeria’s future depends on whether we choose MEMORY over AMNESIA.”

Nigeria lives in the long shadow of its past. The country that emerged on October 1, 1960 (radiant with promise, vast in diversity and rich in human and natural resources) has been repeatedly battered by choices made in the present that forget the LESSONS of HISTORY. To treat history as a dusty archive is to hand the future to forces that thrive on collective amnesia. Corruption, impunity, ethnic manipulation and policy myopia. If memory is indeed a weapon, Nigeria’s survival depends on whether its citizens and leaders are brave enough to wield it. {Independence – Oct 1, 1960; sources on Nigeria’s founding and constitutional arc.}

We must first admit a simple fact, MEMORY is POLITICAL. Who remembers and how we remember shapes power. Chinua Achebe’s blunt admonition remains essential: “Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.” That line is not mere literary flourish (it is a diagnosis. When state narratives elevate rulers and erase victims, justice withers and policy becomes propaganda. The Nigerian story has repeatedly seen official versions triumph over inconvenient truths, coups sanitised as necessary correctives; economic mismanagement repackaged as temporary sacrifice; violence rationalised as inevitable. Reclaiming national memory means restoring the histories of those sidelined) the poor farmer whose land was drained by a policy he never consented to, the activists whose warnings were ignored, the communities displaced by avoidable violence.

Concrete reminders of what happens when memory is abandoned are stark. The Nigerian Civil War -1967/1970- (a human catastrophe that cost hundreds of thousands, possibly millions, of lives) was not simply a regional conflict but a national wound born of ethnic fear, political exclusion and resource competition. Its lessons (the cruelty of blockades; the human cost of political exclusion; the fragility of a federation without trust) must be institutionalized (memorials, properly funded history curricula, and truth-telling commissions) lest the CYCLE REPEAT. The facts are not negotiable, the war’s dates and the scale of the suffering remain foundational to any honest national narrative.

Similarly, the annulment of the June 12, 1993 election (a moment that exposed the rot of military patronage and elite collusion) should be taught, commemorated and used as a political touchstone. The denial of that mandate left a generational scar on civic trust that still influences political behaviour. Commemoration is not mere ritual; it is a political act that says to society that WE REMEMBER INJUSTICE and we will not let it be normalized.

The cost of forgetting is measurable. Recent independent assessments show Nigeria wrestling with alarming socio-economic indicators and poverty levels that remain staggeringly high and a public sector reputation stained by pervasive corruption. The World Bank has documented deep and growing numbers of people pushed into poverty in the last decade; Transparency International places Nigeria low on its Corruption Perceptions Index, indicating that impunity remains a major structural problem. When governance is short-term and amnesic (leaders failing to heed past policy failures) outcomes weaken and ordinary citizens pay with hunger, displacement and lost opportunity. These are not abstract metrics; they are human lives.

Memory must therefore be institutional, not episodic. Plaques and occasional speeches are insufficient. Real memory requires three pillars: TRUTHFUL EDUCATION, TRANSPARENT ARCHIVES and CIVIC RITUALS that bind people across ethnicity and region. Our schools must teach the hard chapters honestly and not only triumphs but THE BETRAYALS, THE CORRUPTION SCANDALS, THE PROTEST MOVEMENTS and THE POLICY MISTAKES. National archives must be accessible; public records preserved and digitized; commissions set up to investigate and publish findings on major national failures. Finally, CIVIC RITUALS (memorial days, inclusive commemorations of struggle, and public dialogue) will stitch individual memory into national consciousness. Without these pillars, memory remains a private act rather than a public defence. (On curriculum and archival reform: see international best practice and calls from civil-society scholars.)

Of course, memory alone is not a magic cure. It is useful only insofar as it leads to accountability and reform. Remembering the Civil War without addressing the economic and political grievances that fuelled it is a hollow exercise. Honouring June 12 without institutional safeguards for electoral integrity is symbolic theatre. Therefore, memory must feed mechanisms of justice: judicial independence, anti-corruption agencies that work, robust investigative journalism and empowered parliaments that exercise meaningful oversight. Where memory prompts policy changes (land reform, fiscal transparency, inclusive governance) it becomes a true weapon of collective defence.

Voices from Nigeria’s intellectual tradition demand no less. Wole Soyinka has repeatedly insisted that nations must “CONFRONT HISTORY HONESTLY”, a call that is both MORAL and STRATEGIC. Honest confrontation means naming perpetrators, acknowledging errors and creating institutional constraints that prevent recurrence. It also means cultivating a civic culture where criticism is not criminalized but welcomed as necessary oxygen for democracy. These are not soft ideals; they are practical steps proven in democracies that have moved from trauma to stability.

There is also resistance. ELITES BENEFIT WHEN THE PAST IS BLURRED. For them, selective memory is a shield. They confect myths of inevitability (that corruption is the price of unity, that emergency decrees are love letters to stability) hoping citizens will forget the alternatives. Combatting this requires an active civil society and media that refuse co-option. Independent journalism, civic education programs and grassroots truth-telling gatherings must be supported. Funding channels that promote investigative reporting and community-based history projects are investments that pay dividends in accountability. Recent reporting and investigations have already exposed the consequences of policy amnesia; food crises compounded by poor planning, infrastructure projects announced without follow-through, fiscal policies that punish the poor. These reports must be amplified, protected and acted upon.

Finally, memory is a democratic practice. It invites ordinary citizens into the national conversation and makes them custodians of truth. The young, who form a majority of Nigeria’s population, must be handed accessible narratives; not SACCHARINE PATRIOTISM, but GRITTY STORIES of how institutions failed and how citizens fought back. When young people inherit a robust, critical memory, they will be less likely to accept cynical elites and easier to mobilize for honest reform. When elders pass down TRUTHFUL, PLURALISTIC HISTORIES rather than PAROCHIAL MYTHS, the nation’s shield grows stronger.

History is knocking. Will Nigeria lift the shield or continue marching blind into repetition? The answer depends on whether we choose to remember with courage and act with conviction. Memory without action is nostalgia; action without memory is recklessness (together and through honest education, open archives, public commemoration and accountable institutions) Nigeria can turn memory into a lasting defence. The choice is ours. If we embrace it, the next generation may finally inherit more than rhetoric: a nation that remembers, reforms and rises.

– George Omagbemi Sylvester