10 Feb 2008 |
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From their lofty perches, Nigerian journalists like to think that the degeneracy which has degraded virtually all our institutions has somehow missed the fourth estate. This is, of course, a delusion. One of the big problems with democracy is how issues which affect the society are framed by the press and perceived in the public domain. Because democracies and open societies are nourished by a free press and by freedom of information, the fourth estate of the realm is a deservedly strategic sector. The Nigerian press is often described as vibrant but that all depends on what this vibrancy connotes. The press endured considerable persecution during the years of military rule. The Buhari and Babangida regimes utilized draconian legal instruments such as Decree 2 and Decree 4 to shackle the media. The notable collisions of press freedom and military dictatorship resulted in the incarcerations of two reporters, Nduka Irabor and Tunde Thompson by the Buhari regime. During the Babangida era, the suppression of the press was dialled up with the parcel-bomb assassination of Dele Giwa and the proscription of Newswatch magazine. But all this paled in comparison to the Abacha junta’s declared war against the press in the nineties. Reporters were tried as conspirators in fictitious coup-plots and jailed. Some like Bagauda Kaltho were murdered by the regime’s death squads. Even newsvendors were harassed by security operatives while media houses like The Guardian were shut down. Its publisher, Alex Ibru, narrowly missed assassination by the junta’s agents. Unsurprisingly, journalists (along with much of the Nigerian intelligentsia) fled into exile but many also went underground. Thus was born the era of guerrilla journalism. Nigerian journalists courageously continued to ply their craft often at the risk of their lives and that of their families. This corps of intrepid pressmen released a volley of magazines week after week, disclosing the inner workings of a secretive dictatorship and providing a platform for opposition views. TELL and TEMPO magazines were the undisputed leaders of this brand of journalistic resistance. Many Nigerians bought these magazines to keep informed about the intrigues of a detached junta as well as a subtle act of civil resistance. It was the era of information warfare with government propagandists armed with all the might of the state ranged against guerrilla journalists armed only with their pens and their wits. Abacha’s demise in 1998 and the return to civil rule in 1999 were chalked down as a much deserved victory for the Nigerian press. As Nigerian journalists came in from the cold and out of their closets, they found a country that had changed. Abacha’s devastation of the economy had wiped out the middle class. People could no longer afford the rising costs of newspapers or magazines. The second change was that the nascent post-military era called for new rules of engagement between the press and the government. Even the State Security Service was undergoing a media-friendly makeover. The Nigerian press jaded and traumatized by their brutalization during the military era couldn’t adapt. Under the prevailing economic circumstances, some publications died out and some media houses closed down. It was at this point that Nigerian journalism took a turn for the worse. The media practitioner must submit himself to two imperatives – truth and profit. Truth is the purest form of information. The zenith of the journalistic art is to distil facts into truth and present that high-grade information to the public. But a newspaper or a newsmagazine is also a business and requires profit to validate its existence. Ideally, a publication devoted to truth should yield profit. However, the ideal situation is also the rarest. Media practitioners all over the world find it necessary to balance the two imperatives and it can be a delicate juggling act. In the worst case scenario, the imperative of truth is subordinated to the bottom line. And it is in this tragic limbo that the Nigerian press now finds itself. As soon as the post-military environment became clear to media practitioners, they adjusted their priorities somewhat. One trend was the growing popularity of the tabloid format. Newsmagazines transmuted almost overnight into tabloids and gossip journals. This was well before the advent of The Sun. To be sure, the degeneration of the Nigerian press reflects the intellectual bankruptcy of the society at large and also feeds it. The lack of a reading culture in the Nigerian society is a problem. Nigerians basically do not read and when they do read, the material is shallow, pedestrian and banal. The fact that pornographic magazines litter the streets is instructive. The Nigerian pressman also faces the challenge of what the Nigerian public wants to read about. By and large, scandal sheets have thrived because most readers are interested in the sex lives of Nigerian socialites; they want to know the salacious details of upper class misdemeanours. Consequently, journalists now regurgitate beer parlour gossip seasoned with conjecture as serious reportage, while the news pages themselves are riddled with school-boy grammatical errors. A journalist committed to truth in an anti-intellectual society such as ours is engaging in a profoundly revolutionary activity. Nigerians are not given to contemplation, introspection or inquiry. We prefer to see pictures of celebrity weddings and snippets of the romantic indiscretions of the rich and famous. Even when politics or the economy is the subject, its treatment is superficial and dull as though designed not to provoke a serious mental consideration of the subject. Superficiality and sensationalism are the two guiding principles of Nigerian journalism as we now know it. I find it remarkable that a 1985 edition of Newswatch evinces more substance, more style and more craft than the present day version. The 1986 editions of Thisweek magazine that I have in my archives compare favourably with any international journal of that period. Something ghastly has happened to the Nigerian press. The subordination of truth to profits has led to even more dangerous perfidies. The typical Nigerian newspaper is filled with all kinds of paid adverts and congratulatory messages to government officials by the court-jesters and praise singers of Nigerian politics. News publications may editorialize against the sycophancy of those who sponsor such congratulatory messages but have no problem running those same messages for the sycophants who can pay for them. There is nothing wrong with bathing soap or breakfast cereal commercials on the pages of newspapers. But when banks take the front and back pages of a newspaper to advertise their shares, surely questions need to be asked. When high-powered corporations can take the first four pages of a newspaper any day to advertise whatever they want, there is a problem. In an age of increasing corporate power in Nigeria, how committed can our journalists be to uncovering corporate malfeasances perpetrated in the banking sector, for example, if the offending banks sustain the press through adverts? The conflict of interest is enough to call the newspaper’s credibility into question. One of the hot button issues of 2006 was the so-called Third term agenda. The Nigerian press was vociferous in its condemnation of the idea. I thought the issues were framed at times inaccurately or at worst fraudulently by the press so that the debate itself was severely devalued. The press, eager to be seen as activist lost itself in a maelstrom of mass hysteria and failed woefully to illuminate the conversation. Amazingly, some newspapers that were strident in their opposition of the third term agenda ran third term campaign adverts on their first four pages. The inconsistency was befuddling. Some editors justified running the ads on the basis of high-minded ideals like freedom of opinion and freedom of expression. The more obvious reason for the editorial contortion lay in the realm of Mammon. A multi-million naira ad campaign wasn’t going to be turned down for the sake of maintaining editorial or moral consistency. And so ironically, news publications dripping with vitriol (and at times just sheer falsehood) about the third term agenda had no problem running ads in support of the campaign. The third term agenda was only part of a number of proposed constitutional amendments which included, and crucially so, the removal of the provision which grants immunity to elected officials in criminal matters. Even with the opposition to a proposed presidential third term, other amendments could have been passed. But the fundamentally flawed depiction of the whole third term thing killed an opportunity for a badly needed constitutional change. From guerrilla journalism in the nineties, the Nigerian press has adopted mercenary journalism. What was once known as the brown envelope syndrome has progressed to become editorializing for the highest bidder. We live in times of rogue politicians with deep pockets. Some state governors targeted by the government for prosecution for corruption own newspapers. Truth is almost the last item on any journalist’s agenda. When a newsmagazine carries a headline like “El-Rufai’s Stolen Billions” I expect evidence and rigorous investigative reporting, not creative writing and beer parlour gossip from “unnamed” or “anonymous” sources. Unfortunately, investigative reporting is a lost art in Nigerian journalism. It is a lot easier for smear campaigns to be bought and paid for using journalistic channels. And there are too many character assassins masquerading as journalists for the credibility of the profession. Corruption is the abuse of power. If the pen is mightier than the sword, then it suggests that the power of the pen is formidable and therefore susceptible to corruption like any other form of power. Consequently, in the words of one ancient prophet, “Justice is turned back, truth is fallen in the streets and equity cannot enter.” The shallowness, superficiality and sensationalism of the Nigerian press are a problem for democracy. If the press cannot provoke new dimensions of public thought through its analysis or reportage, if it cannot provoke a civic awakening or increased civic participation through its work, then it is useless. Truth is the raison d’etre of journalism. Six months after Obasanjo’s exit from power, Nigerian news headlines suggest insistently that the ex-president is some kind of arch-villain still orchestrating chaos behind the curtains. The use of sensational headlines vilifying and demonizing the former president is an old parlour trick for raising profits by desperate pressmen. Periodically, the Nigerian press takes the pulse of the society and harnesses its neurosis for commercial gain. About a decade ago, the former Head of State, Babangida was being similarly vilified and demonized as the “evil genius.” Nigerians have the habit of ascribing all their troubles to one man in order to evade any form of collective responsibility. Babangida was cast as the arch-villain then because of his sleight of hand, his cunning, the mystery surrounding his exit from power and his persona. His regime had subverted democracy and somehow paved the way for Abacha. With Abacha’s demise, the public were inclined to blame Babangida for Abacha’s sins. They hated the retired general from Minna as much as they were bizarrely fascinated by him. And Nigerian newsmen saw an opportunity to exploit the commercially viable Babangida brand to a hilt for profit. A similar thing is happening with Obasanjo today as newsmagazines shamelessly peddle his name and exploit the public’s paranoia for profit. The survival of democracies and open societies depends heavily on a vibrant media. A fourth estate captivated by the idea of truth can sharpen the civic consciousness and increase public activism. Such a press could even provoke a renewal of our deeply dysfunctional political process. This requires a quantum leap in terms of philosophy and practice for the corps of the Nigerian press. Journalism with a hidden agenda will not solve the afflictions of the republic, neither will mercenary reporting. We need a revival of investigative reporting and more intelligent analysis. In a brain-dead society that has refused to think, we need more journalists working to stir the Nigerian psyche. There are, of course, those who will say that Nigerian journalism being a reflection of Nigerian society cannot be motivated by anything other than pecuniary gain. They will argue that the costs of being motivated by truth alone may be too high in an environment like ours. They have a point. Godwin Agbroko, an editor with Thisday was murdered by unknown assailants in December 2006. His murder remains unsolved. But this is hardly surprising; as a rule, murders aren’t solved in Nigeria. The Nigerian State, being less than democratic, has still to learn how to accommodate the press. However, one might argue that journalism is a calling to speak truth to power. It is in this sense that the pen is mightier than the sword, for where the sword wielded by a despotic state manifests terror, the pen of the journalist manifests truth. Dictatorships thrive by unfurling the veil of secrecy over the state and placing information that ordinarily should be in the public domain in the realm of forbidden knowledge. Dictators in Nigeria, even those in civilian garments, would like to keep details of how much they earn officially, how much Local governments receive from the federation account, and how they spend public funds hidden from the public scrutiny. Hopefully, the Freedom of Information Bill should help cure political office-holders of their obsessive secrecy. And let there be no mistake, a very real threat exists; one in which civilian dictators and corporate oligarchs will create a feudal confederacy aimed at monopolizing political and economic power. The Nigerian press can be accused of complicity in some of the bleakest moments of our history. The so-called Lagos-Ibadan press, in particular, The Concord and The Tribune helped to bring down Shagari’s second republic government. Both newspapers were owned by Chief Moshood Abiola and Chief Obafemi Awolowo respectively. Both men were politicians disgruntled with regime of the day. This just goes to show that historically the Nigerian press can scarcely be said to be apolitical. Given the quality of leadership today, such dalliances with the political class will have even more dangerous consequences. Nigerians who want more have long since tuned off from the preternaturally bland state-owned media. It is a truism that you are more likely to get accurate information from private stations like AIT and Channels, and from foreign stations like the BBC, VOA and CNN than from the state-owned NTA or Radio Nigeria. But the new frontier for information-hungry Nigerians is the internet. As wiring costs fall dramatically, the internet will become a feature of many Nigerian households. Already web-surfing by phone is offered by Nigerian phone networks. There are forums online where Nigerians can enjoy good investigative reporting. There are several sites set up for public discourse where Nigerians can debate the fine points of the republic. This is a generational shift embracing Nigerians at home and in the Diaspora in a virtual communion of informed connectivity. More and more people will turn away from the cerebrally arid offerings on the newsstands and turn to the net for succour. As this minority grows, some publications driven by the quest for truth will survive and even prosper. These virtually informed networks hold the seeds of Nigeria’s democratization.
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