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Governing the Security Sector in a Democratising Polity: The Nigerian Case

by

J. ‘Kayode Fayemi

Centre for Democracy & Development (Lagos & London)

Introduction

After fifteen years of military/authoritarian rule, great expectation accompanied the

resumption of civilian rule in Nigeria in May 1999. For a country that had suffered a severe

deterioration in its economy and politics in thirty years of military involvement in the politics,

the assumption that civilian rule will herald a dawn of peace and a deepening of democratic

values and norms in society after a particularly venal military government was

understandable. However, it took very little account of the deep-seated nature of the

centrifugal fissures inherent in Nigeria’s body politic, which were not the products of military

rule even if years of military rule exacerbated them.

Two and half years into civilian rule, the scale, spread and intensity of conflict reflects the

exaggerated link between military disengagement from politics and the demilitarisation of

the Nigerian society. As Table 1 below shows, societal violence has clearly been on the

increase from the day the civilian government came into office. Although there are several

reasons for this increase in societal and state violence not least the expanded space

provided by democratic governance, the fact that public perception still casts doubt on the

state’s capacity for domestic crisis management and security of life and property

(Consultation with the Poor in Nigeria, The World Bank, 2000) underscores why governance

in the security sector is as critical as other issues in overall public sector reform agenda.

As Nigeria drifts down the path of violent conflict on a rising scale even with its record of

relative success in managing post-civil-war reconciliation and reconstruction agenda, the key

challenges to the democratising polity remain that of establishing effective and accountable

security agencies ‘in pursuit of individual and community security in tandem with state

security’ (Obasanjo, 2001), and, on the other, that of establishing effective governance of

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the security sector through the empowerment of civilian oversight mechanisms.

Yet, these structural challenges could only be addressed within a historical context. Equally,

to understand the nature of the challenges and proffer solutions to them, an assessment of

Nigeria’s political environment is critical. To what extent, for example has the question of

the nation been settled? What do the Constitution and other laws say about the control of

the security forces; what is the mission, purpose and nature of the security forces; what is

the interaction between the composition of security forces and the composition of society as

a whole; Does the mission derived from the security threat correspond to the size,

composition and equipment of the security forces; Are resources used to fulfil the identified

mission of the security forces, or are they misused in various ways including for rent-seeking

purposes; what is the role of non-state security actors – positive and negative and how

effectively do the key oversight agencies – legislature, civilian bureaucracy, civil society –

function in general.

This chapter seeks to assess the issues and options for security sector restructuring in

Nigeria from a nuanced investigation of the cross-cutting issues highlighted above by

examining:

(a) The manifold legacies of Nigeria's authoritarian past and the effect of the

culture of militarism on public discourse, consolidation of civil politics and

democratic governance;

(b) The nature of political reform, governance and the democratisation agenda;

(c) Policy prescriptions introduced for transforming security structure and the

extent to which the policy prescriptions guarantee institutionalised democratic

control without undermining internal autonomy and military professionalism;

(d) The International & Regional Dimension of security restructuring; and,

(e) Prospects for Reform and policy coherence.

A. Legacies of Nigeria’s Military/authoritarian past

When the Nigerian military first intervened in politics in January 1966, their action was

acclaimed as a nation-building/transformation project aimed at eradicating corruption and

reordering the State. Six months after, the Nigerian army had become the catalyst for

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national disintegration as it broke up into ethnic and regional factions and exacerbated pre-

existing primordial cleavages, which had earlier undermined its professionalism, eventually

leading to the three-year civil war. The civil war was however significant in helping the

military regain a level of legitimacy after the war ended. Strengthened by the favourable

aftermath of a Nigerian civil war, the Head of State, General Yakubu Gowon utilised the

legitimacy provided by the favourable ‘resolution’ of the civil war to project the military as

the vanguard of the nation-building project. Consequently, the civil war which albeit

fragmented the military as an institution now provided it with the best opportunity to

redeem its image, albeit not necessarily on account of its sterling performance in the

prosecution of the war. While the civil war per se is not the focus of this paper, it is

important to highlight the degree to which it influenced the actions of the military regime,

especially its claim to a pride of place in a nation-building project.

The post civil war agenda of rehabilitation, reconstruction and reconciliation, which was to

culminate in political disengagement in 1976, elicited a high level of consensus from within

the military and the political society, yet it meant more of continuity of the old order than

change. The support the military leadership’s agenda gained from civil and political society

derived from its underlying acceptance that power belonged to the people and this was

demonstrated by General Gowon’s specific announcement of a timetable for military

disengagement from politics. Although it was evident that the military had now become

politicised, General Gowon was able to involve credible politicians in the work of the

administration by keeping within their purview a political order to be soon controlled by

them. Even those who had concerns about the growing concentration of power at the

centre saw the benefits possible from wielding power at the centre. What destroyed this

overwhelming support from both the military and political constituencies was the inability of

the Gowon administration to consolidate the nation-building project, in the aftermath of the

civil war in spite of the opportunity provided by the expanded oil-fuelled economy.

While State power was enhanced by the civil war, the improvement in the country's

economy through oil wealth sharpened the predatory instincts of the military ruling elite and

their allies in the civilian bureaucracy and business sector and this greatly undermined the

institutional capacity for proper governance and, in turn the nation-building project. Even

though corruption was rampant during the civil war, it was the rapacity of regime

functionaries in the aftermath of the war that lay the basis for the level of corruption to be

witnessed in subsequent years.

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Second, while state military power was potentially enhanced by the post civil war "no victor,

no vanquished" reconciliation policy, the Gowon administration failed to concentrate on

reorganising the internal workings of the military institution. Although military planners

sought to improve service co-ordination and came up with suggestions for demobilising and

mechanising a military which was now spending 90% of its budget on salaries for the

250,000 strong force (from a pre-war strength of 10,000), there were no doctrinal principles

that guided defence management. Indeed, as General Gowon’s official biographer noted, ‘as

Gowon settled to issues of state governance after the war, his contacts with the military

gradually decreased as his relationship with the civilian bureaucracy grew’1. More than any

other factor, the failure to seize the opportunity provided at the end of the civil war to re-

organise the military institution lay the basis for the progressive decline of the entire security

structure in the latter years.

In its place, what became evident in thirty years of military involvement in politics is the

degree of sectional loyalties that existed within the military hierarchy. It is sobering to see

over the years the way this has been used to advance the ruling elite's prebendal

proclivities. While the political military consistently maintained the façade of a professional

and accommodational strategy that kept it in power for those three decades, the collegial

nature of that strategy would appear to have assumed a far more segmental edge after

Nigeria’s second republic. At this stage, professional camaraderie and institutional cohesion

seemed relatively less important in the alliance used to sustain the military in power. On the

one hand, it was possible for successive military regimes to retain power with some measure

of authority in areas where the personal projects of the military ruling elite coincided with

the institution’s corporate interests. On the other, especially in areas where the rulers made

no attempt to respect institutional interest, military rulers hung unto power on the strength

of their coercive capabilities and co-optation strategies which depended on alternative

power centres outside the military - in the civilian bureaucracy, in intelligence units, business

sector and intellectual circles, all of which helped in the rupturing and de-institutionalisation

of the military structure. To varying degrees, successive military regimes adopted this

strategy – from General Yakubu Gowon to the recently departed General Abdulsalami

Abubakar, however the regimes of Generals Ibrahim Babangida and Sani Abacha

represented two extremes in the continuum.

To understand the impact of the inability of the post-war military regime to maximise its

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post war legitimacy that it gained, it would be useful to examine the legacies in greater

depth, especially in areas such as: (i) the politicisation and de-institutionalisation of the

armed forces; (ii) the personalisation of power and quest for the creation of a military party;

(iii) the weakening of accountability and control mechanisms and the growth of the

intelligence agencies; (iv) business-civilian bureaucracy-military links and corruption; (v) the

emergence of the ethnic-regional factor in the armed forces and (vi) societal militarisation,

crime and political violence.

(i) The Legacy of a Politicised and De-institutionalised Military

Most observers of the Nigerian military in its thirty years of involvement in politics agree that

the institution was riven by a variety of corporate, ethnic and personal grievances developed

over time in the prolonged years of the military in government.(Ihonvbere, 1997;

Adejumobi, 1999) Although the negative impact on professionalism and the operational

effectiveness of the military had become noticeable – especially in the aftermath of the civil

war – given the confusion and lack of direction that attended the professional direction of

the post-war military. Unfortunately, the euphoria of federal victory and the immediate

pressures of rehabilitation, reconciliation and reconstruction of the political terrain fostered the

creeping organisational inertia in which the armed forces had become embroiled. Military

planners and battle commanders were uncertain that the war was won by effective

organisation of the military2, and honest enough to admit that peacetime deterrence will be

harder to achieve if renewed attention was not paid to professional/organisational issues

around mission/role, doctrine, force posture, force levels, combat operational command,

resource allocation and weapon procurement3.

In spite of this recognition, Nigeria's immediate post war defence organisation did not depart

markedly from what existed in pre-war circumstances, mainly because the preference for

incremental, rather than radical change was overwhelming. Indeed, a wide gap existed

between defence organisation and strategic purpose, in terms of the relationship between the

mission derived from threat assessment and force design, posture, weapons procurement

procedures, resource allocation and combat operational command. Although a few cosmetic

attempts were made in restructuring the defence organisation (Fayemi, 1994), subordinating

the service viewpoint became the main problem in the promotion of the defence view. Service

interests, service needs and service power continued to dominate the Nigerian military

structure, frustrating all efforts to establish a rational system of strategic planning, force

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development, resource allocation and collective military co-ordination throughout the period of

military rule. The limited attempt made towards central coordination during civilian rule

between 1979 – 84 was hobbled by the combination of civilian inexperience and military’s

continued inter-service rivalry.

The implications of military involvement in politics however went beyond defective defence

organisation and management. One aspect that deserves a particular examination is the

impact of military coups on corporate professionalism. By their very nature, coups are high-

risk ventures, which in their success or abortion almost always result in the loss of

perpetrators or their targets, or both. The persistence of coups and the decimation of the

officer corps had a negative impact on the profession and invariably, national security. For

example, the 1966 coups saw the loss of at least two thirds of the officer corps; the abortive

1976 coups led to the execution of 116 military men, police officers and civilians; the 1986

abortive coup resulted in the deaths of some of the country's best pilots, and this in part led

to the near total decimation of the air-force under General Babangida, a situation which

further resulted in the avoidable deaths of 150 military officers in a defective C-130

Transport plane crash in 1991. The April 1990 coup led to the deaths of at least fifty military

officers. Altogether no fewer than 400 officers lost their lives in or as a result of coup

d'etats. In addition to the loss occasioned via executions was the scale and intensity of

premature retirements, unexpected dismissals and rank inflation that resulted from abortive

or successful coups. Ordinarily, retirements and promotions in the military establishment is a

routine thing. Yet despite the surface plausibility of “routine exercise”, “natural attrition” or

“declining productivity”, that accompanied the dismissals and promotions of this period, the

overwhelming consensus was one of an exercise overtly politically motivated.

By the time General Abacha died in June 1998, the military institution had suffered seriously

from this blatant disregard of its structure and procedures and no fewer than 300 members

of the officer corps had lost their commission in the course of these haphazard retirements

and dismissals. The flip side of the above situation was the excessively rapid promotions

that accompanied them which tended to create false expectations through rank inflation and

this had other implications for the country's security as commanders kept changing and not

enough time was given for familiarization in command and staff posts, the overall

consequences of which was acute disorientation and organizational dysfunction among the

rank and file. At another level, the political careerism resulting from successful coups also

engendered resentment, rivalry and disunity amongst military officers. Thus, organizational

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dysfunction in the Nigerian military organization resulted primarily from this political

involvement. Both played a mutually reinforcing role in their impact on professionalism and

institutional cohesion. In the end, the political military failed to govern directly and/or

effectively without losing its professional attributes and without ceasing to be an army.

ii) The Personalisation of Power and the Quest for a Military Party

In the move from the collegial and institutional agenda of the military to the personalisation

of political and military power, a variety of measures were utilised in turning the erstwhile

group project to the personal wishes of the individual ruler. In the early days of military

rule, extensive consultation and regular feedbacks within the military constituency was the

rule rather than the exception and the institutions established for the decision-making

processes did not function as mere rubber stamps for the whims and caprices of the military

junta’s head. Although the sheer force of personality and charisma of the leader influenced

the way his personal agenda cohered with the institutional project, the institutional agenda

prevailed for much of the period preceding the Babangida regime in 1985. Right from the

way he chose to be addressed as ‘President’ hitherto restricted to elected leaders, rather

than the low key and traditional ‘Head of State’ to the regime’s political economy project, it

became evident early on that the institutional project had lost out.

This breakdown in institutional cohesion and espirit de corps in the context of the

personalised nature of rule, especially under Generals Babangida and Abacha also had

another strategy ingrained in it. Unlike in the past when it was anathema for serving officers

to stake a claim to permanent political participation, many began to raise the stakes for

constitutionalising military involvement in politics in an institutional sense. Various

institutional designs were discussed, implemented and discarded for furthering this political

project, the most prominent being the establishment of an Armed Forces Consultative

Council, comprising of officers from the rank of Colonels and above as a General Assembly

of military officers that fed into the ruling Armed Forces Ruling Council-the pre-eminent

decision making body.

Another design was that of establishing a military party. Military officers and civilian

intellectuals were assigned the task of studying a variety of institutionalised military political

party projects. Prominent models that attracted the regime’s attention included the

Nasserist/Baathist models in Egypt, Syria and Iraq as well as the foundational regimes in

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Latin America and South East Asia.7 Although it was General Babangida who put in motion

the idea of constructing a military party, it was his military successor, General Abacha who

eventually implemented the blueprint and through the brazen creation of artificial political

parties. At the time of his death, all the five parties in his democratic transition project had

"unanimously" adopted General Abacha as the presidential candidate. Although there was

strong opposition to this phoney democratisation project in civil society, it is no exaggeration

that General Abacha had the presidency within sights even if his ascension might have

resulted in a far more pernicious state.

While it is arguable that these personal political projects did not succeed in the manner

envisaged, the legacy of constitutional/institutional engineering from above bequeathed by

the military is partly responsible for the stunted growth of the political party structure to

date. Indeed, the limited success achieved by Generals Babangida and Abacha in the

creation of political parties by military fiat with imposed but quite pedestrian ideological toga

– ‘a little to the left and a little to the right’ as General Babangida described the two party

arrangement he willed into existence underscores why the present political parties are still

controlled by the praetorian guard of erstwhile military era in an age of neo-militarism. The

fact that very little differentiates these political parties as platforms for change explains the

disillusionment with mainstream politics and the popularity of ethnic and religious

constituencies as a way of providing security and safety.

(iii) The Weakening of accountability and the growth of the intelligence agencies

One of the most deleterious consequences of the de-institutionalisation of the military was

its loss of monopoly over the means of coercion and management of violence in the

Nigerian state. One critical factor this loss could be traced to is the gradual and quite

surreptitious disengagement of other security agencies that were hitherto subsumed within

the military hierarchy – especially as the military moved to a more personalised form of rule.

For example, the rise in influence of military intelligence and associated bodies became

directly proportional to the loss of influence by the ‘constitutional’ military as a corporate

institution and the Defence Ministry as the bureaucratic institution responsible for

accountability, leading to the development of an alternative power-centre around the

security/intelligence networks and used by successive rulers to undermine the military

institution in order to remain in power. What suffered most in the process was the

weakening of accountability and absence of transparent security sector governance. To

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understand the depth of the crisis though, it is useful to trace the changes to the security

and intelligence sector of the Nigerian security structure over the last three decades.

Consistent with the position of every post independence sovereign country in Anglophone

Africa, Nigeria’s intelligence activities were largely conducted under the auspices of the

Special Branch of the Nigeria Police Force, except for military related intelligence work –

which was also coordinated with the Special Branch activities. The Special Branch, which was

responsible for domestic security intelligence lost its pre-eminent role in the collection, collation,

evaluation, analysis, integration and interpretation of information and intelligence after the 1976

abortive coup d'etat in which the Head of State, General Mohammed was assassinated. The

new Head of State not only set up a new intelligence outfit – named the Nigerian Security

Organisation (NSO), he also chose a military officer to head the body. Hence it took the

security of the individual heading the government for the institution to come to the realisation

that something had to be done about the intelligence aspect of national security. This became

the rule subsequently as every change to the intelligence services reflected more a concern

about regime security rather than any rationally ordered need for institutional development.

With every change however, the intelligence services grew in influence and relevance to the

ruler in particular. Indeed, by the time General Babangida faced down the bloody military coup

that nearly toppled his regime in 1990, the intelligence service had become the most powerful

entity in the institutional hierarchy of national security policy making – almost an alternative

powercentre, with the military institution consistently playing a second fiddle to it. The growth

in influence of security agencies that are directly accountable to the Head of State also gave

the military leaders more room to manoeuvre and helped seal their distaste for institutional

arrangements that could mediate excesses of the Head of Government and make the ruler

more accountable.

This overwhelming influence however developed a non-institutional side especially under the

Babangida and Abacha regimes, which turned out to be more pernicious. With the

ascendancy of the security/intelligence units, the associational and corporatist character of

the regimes at inception assumed an authoritarian regimen for power consolidation as the

leader’s dependence on the security and intelligence network grew. Whilst this practice had

started with the creation of NSO in 1976, it was institutionalised under General Babangida

when he set up a plethora of security networks culminating in the creation of the alternative

para-military service - National Guard – to undercut the military institution. By this time, the

role of private military companies in the activities of the intelligence services and in the

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overall management of the regime security had become a source of concern within the

military as an institution.4 Equally, a regime that had come into office espousing respect for

fundamental freedoms and human rights had lost credibility with civil society and societal

violence against the state had increased exponentially by 1989. Through its responsibility for

discovering and nipping ‘forces of destabilization’ in the bud, the role expansion of the

security services guaranteed it an autonomy and influence not hitherto accorded security

and intelligence services in Nigeria. At the same time, the measure of accountability

expected of the service within an institutional set-up equally disappeared.

This growth in influence however took on more insidious dimensions under the late General

Abacha with the formation of the Libyan and Korean trained Special BodyGuard Services for

the personal protection of the Head of State as well as the Strike Force and K Squad –

responsible for carrying out state sponsored assassinations of political enemies at a time

that the military-controlled Presidential Brigade of Guards was no longer trust-worthy. That

this alternative power bloc around General Abacha completely made a nonsense of the

military institution and destroyed the hierarchy that is so central to the institution, is evident

from recent revelations at the Human Rights Violations Investigations Commission’s hearings

and in the trials of the junior officers who ran these alternative security outfits.5

(iv) The Business elite-military links and Corruption-fuelled Institutional Designs

The origin of what we have referred to elsewhere as Nigeria's "bureaucratic-

economic militariat" (Fayemi, 1999) could indeed be traced back to the central role of the

military in the control and management of Nigeria's post civil war oil wealth, especially after

the promulgation of the Indigenisation Decrees of 1972 and 1977.6 If one traced the

personal, political and financial links of business individuals associated with the military prior

to their exit from government and in the immediate aftermath of civilian politics in 1979, the

emerging trend of a network comprising the military, the civilian bureaucracy and the

business elite became immediately apparent.7 At this stage though, it would appear that the

acquisition by the military personnel involved was largely in pursuit of personal wealth as an

increasing number of retired senior military officers ... combine chairmanships/directorships

of their own private businesses, with part-time appointments to key governmental posts and

parastatals relating to agriculture, commerce, and industry, in addition to interlocking

directorships of many foreign companies incorporated in Nigeria.8 In no time though, this

pursuit of individual wealth set the tone for a conscious institutional programme of wielding

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political influence.9

With the arrival of General Babangida at the helm of affairs in 1985, the legacy of militarism

had been spread wide. One of the first measures that he adopted in a widely populist move

purported to have led to the rejection of the IMF strictures on Nigeria was the policy of

Structural Adjustment. As the country became sucked into the vortex of structural

adjustment programme under General Babangida, the elevation of finance over industrial

capital became the most significant feature of the period. Short term monetarist policies of

exchange rate devaluation, removal of subsidies, sale of state enterprises, freeing of prices

and generalised deflationary policies took precedence over structural reform of that

debilitating economy which was the favoured national consensus for addressing the problem

at the time. Deregulation ensured that the financial sector became the only growth sector

with interest rates determined by speculators and the military controlling a large share of

finance capital. At the same time, agriculture, manufacturing and industry experienced

severe distress due to low capacity utilisation.

Equally, the extra funds gained from the increased oil sales during the Gulf War in 1990/91

fuelled corruption as this extra income was regarded as discretionary and it went on a

massive spending binge that diverted revenues into corruption funded patronage, sharply

expanded extra-budgetary expenditure and bloated an already inflation ridden economy.

Indeed, an official inquiry into the finances of the Central Bank of Nigeria, between

September 1988 and 30 June 1994 concluded that, “US$12.2 billion of the $12.4billion (in

the dedicated and special accounts) was liquidated in less than six years... spent on what

could neither be adjudged genuine high priority nor truly regenerative investment; neither

the President nor the Central Bank Governor accounted to anyone for these massive extra-

budgetary expenditures…that these disbursements were clandestinely undertaken while the

country was openly reeling with a crushing external debt overhang.'10

Little wonder then that the economic reform programme started by the military regime in

1986 (under Genera Babangida) finally collapsed under the weight of the 1993 annulled

election and the massive capital flight that followed. By 1993, Nigeria, according to the

World Bank, was among the 20 poorest countries in the world. The situation has since

worsened under the present regime; GNP grew only 2.8 percent in 1994, inflation ran at

over 60 percent just as the country experienced exponential unemployment growth rate and

the Nigerian naira virtually collapsed. As one commentator of that period noted, "virtually all

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pretense of professional economic management was abandoned, and the government

cynically allowed the economy to become completely predatory in nature." As a result, the

country stopped servicing interest payments on much of its $30 billion foreign debt, and the

more than $7 billion in arrears on its debt to the Paris Club of Western creditors. Yet, in

spite of this dismal record, a high number of retired military officers or fronts of serving

officers were heavily involved in the finance/banking sectors. Not only did many of them

lack any knowledge of the industry, they possessed little aptitude to apply themselves to the

huge responsibilities their involvement demanded of them.

But it was not just the economy that suffered in this ‘private good, public bad’ State

retrenchment legacy of the era. The prospects for democratisation and meaningful politics

also dimmed. Given the diffused level of autonomy exercised by the military institution that

resulted from the parcelling out of the state to private military interests, the class and group

project engendered by previous military rule was exchanged with the rule of the 'benevolent

dictator' since many officers close to power had become beholden to the personal ruler as

direct beneficiaries of the financial incentives he distributed.

In the larger society, privatisation exacerbated the prebendal politics with its

attendant pressure on ethnic relations as many who lost out in the scheme of things

concluded that the overwhelming power of the centre was responsible for their fate. But if

these tendencies were simply limited to the government, it would be less disturbing. By

institutionalising favouritism and corruption as legitimate instruments of governance, the

military regime headed by Babangida succeeded in breeding a myriad of anti-democratic

practices reproduced regularly in the world view of the ordinary Nigerian, either in the form

of a common belief that everyone had a price, or in the disappearance of loyalty to the State

as militarism became embedded in the psyche of the average individual.

The restructuring of the economy along monetarist lines could be said to have

represented an ambitious attempt by the 'techno-military' authoritarian state under General

Babangida to generate a new hegemonic bloc and this was carried out on two broad levels -

economic and political. First, as a result of the government's privatisation agenda, several of

the state-owned industrial and commercial ventures were sold directly to ex-military

generals or to conglomerates linked to them.4 In addition, the new merchant banks that

emerged to take advantage of the liberalisation of the financial sector featured several

retired military officers on their boards. Indeed, many military generals were prominent

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beneficiaries of the bad loans allocated by these failed banks.11

Second, General Babangida went beyond the personal pecuniary motives of erstwhile

military rulers by ensuring that the stratification of the military from the rest of society did

not just exist at the level of personal arrangements, but also at an institutional level. Hence,

by adopting a practice common to Latin American and some South East Asian military

institutions, he announced the formation of an Army Bank (which never took off!), an

industrial armament city - (which also did not happen) and the Nigerian Army Welfare

Insurance Scheme (NAWIS). To ensure that every military officer saw the stratification

project as an institutional agenda, the government spent N550 million ($60 million in 1992)

advertised to a hapless public as loans to purchase cars for military officers of and above the

rank of Captains. This was later extended to the non-commissioned officers in the form of

motorcycles and the rank and file got bicycles. Whilst this provided additional respite to the

military dictatorship, it ultimately failed in providing the platform for the elevation of General

Babangida to the civilian political space.

If the political manipulation under General Abacha was unapologetically blatant; the

Nigerian economy became a personal fiefdom. The diminution of any official pretence of a

collegial facade which military rulers always projected was total by the time General Abacha

died in June 1997. Unlike General Babangida who parcelled out the State to friends and

mentors within the military and political society with a view to consolidating his political

base, General Abacha kept the spoils of office for himself and his family, a coterie of his

security apparatus – mostly from his ethnic base, thus leading many to see a link between

his economic and political project and that of his ethnic base amongst Hausa-Fulani-Kanuri

political elite. The context of his plundering of the national wealth in which the presumed

winner of the 1993 election and several other political and civil society leaders were still

being held in detention further fuelled this perception that the agenda was to use a

complete control of the economy to ensure a firm grip on the political terrain. The fact that

he made a conscious effort of ignoring the military institution12, which ordinarily ought to

have provided the cover for his political project, strengthened the notion that he had the

aim of destroying the military as an institution, exacerbate ethnic tensions and shut out the

international community from the country in other to consolidate the state decomposition

project.

(v) The emergence of the ethnic-regional factor in the armed forces

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In discussing the emergence of the ethnic-regional factor in the Nigerian security structure,

it is important to start by underscoring the fact that representativeness was not overly

critical in the establishment and recruitment process into the colonial army. Hence, a

division of labour emerged in the colonial army in which the bulk of the rank and file soldiers

came from so-called martial race, mostly from northern minority ethnic groups, whilst the

officer corps in which the forces needed fairly well educated men, was dominated by

southern ethnic groups.13 This early pattern of recruitment was replicated in the post-

independence armed forces. Clearly, the political elite of the immediate post-independence

era was very sensitive to the fact that two-thirds of the officers by 1962 were from the

South (and mainly Ibo), hence the 1962 quota policy was aimed at redressing the imbalance

already dominant in the officer ranks.14 Events surrounding the political crisis that

culminated in the civil war in 1967 exacerbated the ethnic-regional feature of the Nigerian

military, even at a time when it was the best example of a national institution in the

unfinished nation-building project. In particular, the loss of at least two thirds of the officer

corps from the East contributed largely to the secessionist plans of Lt Colonel Ojukwu,

especially after the assassination of General Ironsi, the Supreme Commander of the Nigerian

Armed Forces at the time.

The end of the civil war in 1970 offered the opportunity to redress perceived imbalance and

the subsequent introduction of ‘federal character’ in recruitment that guaranteed equality of

opportunity into military institutions helped in this regard. However, the involvement of the

military in politics continued to strengthen the unitary characteristics of Nigeria’s federal

structure and seriously weakened the very basis of Nigeria’s federalism. From the creation

of twelve states out of the erstwhile four regions in 1967as a way strengthening the federal

centre in the wake of the civil war, by the time the military left government in 1999, the

country had thirty-six states – mostly weak and inevitably dependent on the strong centre

for its survival – thus defeating the agenda of autonomy that the states were also meant to

serve. This led to the growing campaign for the deconcentration of power at the centre as

the politics of identity gained more legitimacy in the wake of a failed citizenship and

nationalist project. The fact that the power-wielders at the Centre also lacked legitimacy

contributed to the perception of the military as a fake national institution used to promote

particular ethnic, religious and political interests. The fact that there had been no clear

resolution of the national question made the perception of ethnic/regional tension more

palpable. Indeed, while the military rulers continued to project a nationalist outlook, the

15

alliance used in sustaining the military in power looked increasingly regional or even ethnic

to the casual observer.

This failure to resolve the nationality question in an inclusive manner is evident in the varied

responses across country to conflicts over identity, nationality, self-determination and

autonomy. The introduction of Sharia in many of the Northern states (and the recent

killings in Jos), the rising tide of ethno-nationalism (the OPC and Egbesu Boys uprisings),

and arguments over the control of state and federal resources (particularly in the Niger

Delta) are all examples of demands for “genuine federalism.” This increasing privatisation

of violence in the country represents one of the main challenges to the reform of the

military institution and the eventual transformation of the security structure. While most

Nigerians still in favour of a federal nation, it is clear that the nation-state as it is constituted

is a source of violent conflict. The failure of the various institutional mechanisms adopted to

manage diversity and difference – federal character principle, quota system, rotational

presidency and political zoning, to mention just a few – is an indication of a lack of social

contract between the governors and the people with a view to devising politically legitimate

and inclusive mechanisms that are consensus-driven. Many Nigerians now question the

country’s future, especially if left in the hands of a centralised State. The challenge

identified by the variety of conflicts across the country, especially since the exit of the

military, is however not a negation of the need for institutional processes to address this

drift from nationalism to balkanisation, but a call for the search for that process to be

bottom-up, rather than simply imposed by military fiat..

Yet even as one acknowledges the clear perception that the national question remains

unresolved thus fuelling a regional-ethnic military outlook, it is important to make a

distinction between the character of the military in government and the military as an

institution. While the military in government clearly looked ‘regional’ and ‘ethnic’, the

military continued to show evidence of even-handedness in recruitment as an institution.

However, it is the perception that the national military is not there to serve the interests of

all Nigerians that underscores the prevalence of private armies and militias, mostly formed

along ethnic and regional lines in defence of particular interests. It is to this last legacy of

military rule, and perhaps the most worrying due to the growth in societal and structural

violence that we now turn.

(vi) The Legacy of Societal militarisation and Violence.

16

From the foregoing analysis, years of military rule imposed enormous costs on the Nigerian

people. But perhaps the most enduring of all the legacies bequeathed is the level of

militarism and societal violence that has become rife in civil society. In spite of the various

steps embarked upon by the civilian government since it assumed power, the intensity of

conflict in the country in the last two years underscore why military restructuring can only

take its proper place within the context of institutionalised national restructuring. (See Table

1 above)

Without a doubt, military disengagement from politics represents an important first step

towards democratic control, even if it does not equate with or immediately translate to

civilian, democratic control. From the evidence available in Nigeria so far, formal military

disengagement has widened the space within which concrete democratic reform is possible

and sustainable but it has also thrown up various centrifugal fissures, reopened old wounds

hitherto festering under the surface and generated new forms of conflicts in the country.

Some of the conflicts have antecedents in old native-settler animosities, but many are

resource-driven, spurred by perceptions of unequal distribution of government resources.

Equally, incidents of aggression, impatience, and competition arise in domestic violence and

other family disputes, over petrol queues, in the conduct of motorists, and in the behaviour

of the armed forces and police in dealing with ordinary people.15 While the immediate

causes of increased violence and crime reside in a perception of inequality in society, at root

however is the loss of a culture of compromise and accommodation in the resolution and

management of conflicts. This point cannot be overemphasised: Nigerians lost their culture

of dialogue in a period when militarization and the primacy of force had become state policy

and it will require a return to consensus based, rather than the current adversarial character

of politics, to regain that culture of dialogue.

Even so, the context within which politics takes place also affect the likelihood of a dialogue

and consensus driven process. In a country where the political leadership automatically

foreclose certain issues as ‘non-negotiable’ or in Nigeria’s local parlance – as ‘no-go areas’,

it becomes difficult for those who want those options to be discussed, negotiated and

bargained for, to regard imposed constitutional principles as legitimate – especially where

these principles are not derived from agreed societal values and norms, but simply imposed

by those who have the means to gain access to political power at the centre. Having broken

free of years of repression and control under military rule, it is no surprise therefore that

17

constituencies and communities have taken to heart the lesson of military rule – the use of

force as the bargaining chip for forcing negotiations of foreclosed agenda. Without seeking

to justify these responses, it is important to understand the context within which they occur.

Yet for the country to attain stable civil-military relations, a critical task in consolidating

Nigeria's fragile democracy and rebuilding stable civil-military relations in the polity is

reclaiming the militarised mind, which has been fed by a deep-seated feeling of social

exclusion under military rule. Given the prevailing political culture - bred by three decades of

militarism and authoritarian control, the current political transition only represents a

reconfiguration of the political, economic and military elite, rather than an opening up of the

political system and broadening of participation. Indeed, what we have witnessed is the

creation of "shadow military and security hierarchy” in a certain sense.

The greatest challenge to addressing the scourge of political militarism therefore is

addressing the psychology of militarism that has become reified in the context of Nigeria’s

politics of exclusion. Herein lie the paradox of democratisation and demilitarisation not just

in Nigeria, but the rest of post-cold war Africa. How attainable is a complete overhaul of

politics from its military roots, especially in a body politic that has become so atomised and,

in which the symbols, values, and ethos of the military are replicated in large sections of the

civil-society.

In themselves, these manifold legacies of military politics constitute major challenges that

need to be grappled with by Nigerians, but it is their impact on the post-military political

reform project, especially its impact on the capacity for governance given the fact that the

country’s escape from the grip of a damaging military rule was more of a lucky escape than

a well ordered exit, that is critical to our understanding. The capacity of the succeeding

administration to address the negative impact of the legacies highlighted above is key to

arresting the drift to violent conflict in the country.

B. The Nature of political reform, governance and the democratisation

agenda

The nature of General Abacha's exit and the arrival of General Abubakar on the

scene arguably determined the outcome of the democratisation project in 1999. However

one may view the eventual outcome of the rushed transition programme, the fact that the

18

military elite was not responding to a full defeat by the population could hardly be

discounted in understanding the pacted nature of the transition and the push for a graceful

exit for the military through a political machine closest and more sympathetic to its

hierarchy. The dominance of the party hierarchy by the retired military and civilians closely

connected to the military elite set the tone for party formation that paid little attention to

ideology.

This compromised political settlement was therefore perceived in several sectors,

especially in the civilian polity as a reason why military disengagement ought to be viewed

with a great deal of scepticism and not a sine-qua non of demilitarisation of the polity. While

it is true that General Abacha failed to achieve his personal objective of transforming himself

into a civilian leader, the fact that military influence still played a huge part in the choice of

president - albeit in a less blatant form - was regarded as an indication of the huge

challenge the country faces in the post-military era. For civilians, the overriding fact that the

Nigerian military has become entrenched in all facets of Nigeria's social and economic life

was seen as a major limitation on the ability of the new government to undertake any

fundamental transformation of an institution widely perceived as unaccountable. It was

against this background of widespread scepticism that the government was inaugurated.

Indeed for many, the secretive nature of the transition, which saw a government

elected with no public access to the fundamental law of the land in the form of a

constitution, was seen as a major problem. At a time when the constitution is no longer

seen as a mere set of rules and laws regulating the state and society, but a social contract,

an expression of the general will of the nation and that single document under which

diverse and even ideologically opposed groups unite in defence of democracy, many

objected to an imposed constitution and predicted that this eventual document was bound

to contain booby traps for the new democracy.

Hanging like a pall over the transition programme were the unresolved issues

surrounding the annulled 1993 election and the regionalist questions triggered by that

particular election. Although the 1993 election itself was not free from accusations of elite-

pacting since it did not really emerge from a broad based popular demand, but a largely

predetermined transition programme in which political parties were even formed and largely

funded by the military, the brazen and inexplicable manner with which the election results

had been annulled galvanised the opposition of the broad civil society and labour movement

against the military. For civil society and pro-democracy forces in particular, who had

suffered severe repression on account of their opposition to that annulment, what the

19

country needed was not an election that will just reproduce status-quo, but a clean slate

that could only be brought about by an interim government and an interim constitution with

the task of organising a national conference to produce a consensus document which will

now be the basis of governance in the country. In propagating this approach, they drew

inspiration from the National Conference arrangements in Franco-phone Africa, especially in

neighbouring Benin republic and the CODESA arrangement in South Africa. The fact that the

main symbol of the annulled election – Chief M.K.O.Abiola - died in detention in rather

mysterious circumstances elicited various claims about the role of external forces whose

interest was mainly stability, rather than democracy, in influencing the shape of Nigeria’s

future with relatively little input from the citizens.

In spite of the vociferous campaign for an open debate on the constitution, the idea

of a people driven governance arrangement was largely ignored by the military. Instead,

the Abubakar government established a Constitutional Debate Co-ordinating Committee

(CDCC) to collate public comments on the draft 1995 Constitution, which was produced by

General Abacha. However, the CDCC had only two months to conduct this exercise and in

spite of its members’ determination to do a good job, they were already hobbled by some of

the central principles that guided their work – lack of transparency, openness and credibility

to mention the most critical. More importantly, even when they managed to produce a draft

of the views gathered, they later discovered that many of their recommendations had been

ignored by the ruling military elite, which was intent on its own agenda and wanted to avoid

any issue that might come back to haunt them after their exit. The lackadaisical attitude of

politicians eager to gain access to office gave the impression of a tacit understanding

between some politicians and the departing military elite. This seemed plausible given the

political elite’s non-challance and lack of interest in what the constitutional provisions were

on sensitive issues like the role and mission of the armed forces, oversight responsibility of

the legislature and government, accountability of the military institutions to the state;

relationship between levels of government, to mention just a few issues.

This led to the eventual marginalisation of the civil society voices that cautioned

against a rushed transition programme and an exclusive focus on electoralism. It also

paved the way for the low quality of the elected representatives, majority of whom emerged

from the shadows of the military parties created during General Abacha’s period in office.

Since many of the protagonists of those parties controlled resources through various rent

seeking activities perpetrated while in office, they were able to transfer these resources into

the newly registered parties. The fact that the political parties were cobbled together with

20

no clear vision and relatively little distinction in their manifestoes gave an indication of what

to expect in the new political dispensation. In a sense, whatever the present government is

experiencing in terms of challenges to consolidating this fragile democracy could very well

be partly traced to the origins of the political transition that produced the government. This

is evident from the policy prescriptions that the government has adopted which basically

oscillate between simplistic tinkering of the traditional agenda for reform and total re-

imposition of the old order. It would not be wrong to describe the governance arrangement

as one of incremental change amid a huge dose of continuity. It is useful to examine the

policy prescriptions in the area of security sector restructuring to establish why we think this

is the case.

(C) Governance in the Security Sector: Policy Prescriptions under the

Obasanjo administration

Given the above context of military hangover, the election of an ex-military General with

significant support from the military constituency, was seen in civil society as an extension

of continued military rule of sorts. His initial moves however surprised many and he was

able to turn the limited expectation of change and the perceived lack of room for manoeuvre

to an advantage. His first move - the appointment of service chiefs the day he came into

office - gave a strong impression of a government committed to military professionalism and

determined to ensure civilian supremacy. It was also a careful balancing act in ethnic and

regional juggling by ensuring that all the senior service chiefs came from minority ethnic

groups in the north and south. Yet, apart from a wish list of what the President wants to

focus on in restructuring the security sector in his inaugural speech to the nation, there was

no clear articulation of the new administration’s agenda until July, 1999. The president

articulated the government's stand on civilian supremacy in his first major speech to the

military establishment when he addressed the graduating Course Seven of the National War

College on July 24, 1999. In the speech, he highlighted the following principles:

• Acceptance of the elected civilian President as Commander-in-Chief of the

Armed Forces, and the supremacy of elected officials of state over

appointed officers at all levels;

• Acceptance of civilian headship of the Ministry of Defence (MoD) and

other strategic establishments;

• That decisions regarding the goals and conduct of military operations

21

must serve the political and strategic goals established by the civil

authority;

• Acceptance of the application of the civilised principles to all military

investigations and trials, and

• The right of Civil (Supreme Court) authority to review any actions or

decisions taken by military judicial officers.

In line with the above, the administration's agenda for military professionalisation has

followed the traditional pattern embraced in countries moving from prolonged

military/authoritarian state structures to civilian, democratic structures. The focus has

therefore been on the (i) the De-politicisation and Subordination of the Military to Civil

Authority; (ii) Constitutionalising Security Sector Reform; (iii) Reorientation and Re-

professionalisation Policy; (iv) Demilitarisation of Public Order and Increasing relevance of

Civil Policing; and (v) Balancing the demands of Defence with the needs for Development.

Let us briefly look at what has been done in these areas.

(i) De-politicisation and Subordination of the Military

As indicated above, the incoming administration gained the confidence of sceptics by

tackling the immediate challenge in the choice of military chiefs to lead the military

restructuring/reprofessionalisation project. The next move by the administration was even

more popular when "politicised" military officers were retired on June 10, 1999 - two weeks

after the government was sworn in. The retirement exercise saw the exit of 93 officers in

total (53 from the army5 20 from the Navy, 16 from the air-force and 4 from the police). The

third move which also elicited the support of the civil society was the government's

announcement of an anti-corruption crusade that saw the immediate termination of several

contracts awarded by the erstwhile military administration (many awarded to companies

associated with the outgoing military hierarchy) as well as the setting up of a judicial

commission to investigate human rights violations under the military.

Popular as the measures taken were, the government’s attention still appeared to have

focussed on the dominant model of civil-military relations, which assumes a level playing

field in which ‘autonomous military professionalism’ can be predicated on ‘objective civilian

control’, one that encourages an ‘independent military sphere’ that does not ‘interfere in

political matters’. In reality though, this perspective treats civilian control as an event, a fact

22

of political life, not a process that has to be negotiated within a continuum, especially in

states emerging from prolonged authoritarian rule. In our view, civilian control should not be

seen as a set of technical and administrative arrangements that automatically flow from

every post military transition, but part of complex political processes, which must address

the root causes of militarism in society, beyond the formal removal of the military from

political power or the retirement of politically tainted officers. There is a need to redefine our

notion of the a-political military - a notion that has been central to the discourse of the

dominant civil military relations literature. In Nigeria where the military has become

entrenched in all facets of civic and economic life and where politics has just featured a

reconfiguration rather than a transformation of power as argued above, anchoring the need

for an objective civilian control to the notion of an a-political military underestimates the

seriousness of the issues at stake. While formal mechanisms for control are not in

themselves wrong, the reality underpinning Nigeria's crisis of governance underscores the

fact that subordination of the armed forces to civil control can only be achieved when civil

control is seen as part of complex democratic struggle that goes beyond elections and

beyond subordination to the presidency, but also other oversight institutions. (Williams,

1998; Fayemi, 1998). These processes are expressions of institutional relationships that are

inherently political, subjective, and psychological.13 and it is only when the political and

psychological issues arising out of military involvement in politics are grasped that we can

begin to look at objective control mechanisms. One innovative way of integrating both

objective control mechanisms and subjective political and psychological issues into a vision

of change that is transformatory is the use to which the constitution is put in the quest for

governance in the security sector. The fact that many of these steps are taken with no

discussion as to the precise nature of security that the citizens desire underscore the need

to locate improvements within a constitutional framework.

(ii) Utilising the Constitution to Clarify and entrench the role of the security sector

If the objective of creating efficient and effective professional armed forces is to be

achieved, particular attention must be paid to the principle of accountability to the people

and their elected representatives. The location of the military in terms of its accountability

to the executive, the legislature and the wider society must be clarified in constitutional

terms. This is important for a number of reasons. First, accountability, transparency and

openness have become fundamental constitutional tenets and the Obasanjo administration

is leading the way in this respect. Second, as a national institution, the military relies on the

23

public for support and sustenance in order to fulfil its constitutional mandate. Third, the idea

that security matters reside exclusively in the realm of military constituency is one that is

increasingly challenged by the broadened and inclusive meaning of security to society.

Hence, the view that issues relating to the armed forces and security services must be

subjected to public discourse is becoming acceptable. Therefore, if the state must resolve

the problems of accountability and address the current lacunae arising from the character of

the postcolonial security structures as a result of prolonged military dictatorship, popular

participation and organisational coherence, not exclusivity, are the crucial things needed to

ensure democratic control and widen national security perspectives.16

Unfortunately, previous constitutions have tended to be nearly silent about the armed forces

and its role in Society. Although Section 217(1) of the 1979 constitution which stipulates the

role and broad functions of the Armed Forces: namely, defending Nigeria from external

aggression, maintaining its territorial integrity and securing its borders from violations on

land, sea or air; acting in aid of civil authorities to help keep public order and internal

security as may be prescribed by an Act of the National Assembly; and performing such

other functions as may be prescribed by an Act of the National Assembly, was repeated

verbatim in the 1999 constitution, there was no attempt to even reflect on the problems that

arose from prolonged military rule in the intervening two decades. While it is arguable that

this broad depiction of the roles of the security forces gives the political authority enough

flexibility to define what it seeks, this lack of clarity can also be a problem. This is more so in

circumstances where civilians frequently lack knowledge and understanding of military

affairs, and the apportioning of civilian and military responsibilities often depend on the

military itself, or on a small coterie of elected civilian officials close to the President. In the

case of Nigeria, this has led to a further lack of accountability and the assumption of an all-

knowing President. Given the burden of its authoritarian past and the loss of credibility by

the military, it was thought that elected civilians will be allowed to play a key role in military

restructuring and redefinition of roles and missions. Yet, there is a conflict between a

section of the populace who feel that legislative oversight should be central to democratic

control and others who are of the opinion that the President and his Defence Minister, as

ex-military leaders, should have the freedom to restructure the military without adequate or

necessary recourse to other checks and balances within the system simply because "they

know what they are doing".

As a result, the legislature has largely functioned as a rubber-stamp national assembly as far

24

as military matters are concerned. Not only are they often unaware of developments, even

the role of the legislature in terms of determining policy on the size and character of the

armed forces, overseeing the armed forces' activities and approving actions taken by the

executive branch, have been short-changed by an overbearing executive branch.' There has

been widespread agitation in civil society about the need to constitutionalise in a

comprehensive manner the role of the military in internal security issues, the use of

emergency powers and the limits of emergency powers vis-à-vis the citizens’ non-derogable

rights, the place of international law in the practice and professionalism of the military as

well as the debate over the composition of the military. It is expected that the current

review of the country's constitution would provide an opportunity to re-examine the

constitutional dimension of military matters and a clarification of the role of the executive,

legislative branch and wider society in ensuring a stable civil-military relations.

Even on an issue that has become the most contentious with the Nigerian public – the quest

for an anti-coup strategy – the current Nigerian constitution is severely muted in its content.

A clause that is most worrying to many observers on the constitution is the rather unlimited

powers it places on the legality of the security agency to ovethrow the constitution which is

the supreme law of the land. Section 315 (5)c of the 1999 constitution states that the

National Security Act (a body of principles, policies and procedures on the operation of the

security agencies) remains in law and cannot be overridden by the constitution unless the

legislature can muster two-thirds of its members to override it both at the national as well

as state assemblies. Opponents claim that for an Act that came into being via a military

decree to still have this imposed legitimacy makes a mockery of the democratisation process

and exposes the country to the whims and caprices of security agencies which operate

largely in the dark.

As if to complicate matters, the "anti-coup" clause contained in Section 1(2) of the 1999

constitution stipulating that "The Federal Republic of Nigeria shall not be governed, nor shall

any person or group of persons take control of the Government of Nigeria or any part

thereof, except in accordance with the provisions of this Constitution. Yet, as stated above,

the National Security Act can override the same constitution, in which case an interpretation

of the above clause could very well be that anyone who successfully removes a

constitutional government via the provisions of the National Security Act is acting in a

constitutional, or at least in a legal manner.

25

Compare this section of the Nigerian constitution with Section 3 (1) of the Ghanaian

constitution which states that "Any person who (a) by himself or in concert with others by

any violent or other unlawful means, suspends or overthrows or abrogates this constitution

or any part of it, or attempts to do any such act" or (b) "aids and abets in any manner any

person referred to in paragraph (a) of this clause; commits the offence of high treason and

shall upon conviction be sentenced to suffer death". In subsection 4 (a), the same

constitution states that "All citizens of Ghana have the responsibility and duty at all times" to

(a)defend this constitution and in particular, to resist any person or group of persons

seeking to commit any of the acts defined to in Clause 3 of this article". The constitution

goes further to declare that any person who participates in resisting such attempts or acts of

suspending or abrogating it commits "no offence". Subsequent sections award "adequate

compensation which shall be charged to the Consolidated Fund in respect of any suffering

incurred as a result of punishment' in resisting the abrogation of the Constitution. Of course

skeptics will argue that this in itself will not stop the occurrence of illegal intervention, but

the moral force invested in these clauses cannot be compared to the tepid anti-coup clause

in Section 2 (1) of the Nigerian constitution. Similar clauses such as Ghana's appear in the

Ugandan and South African constitutions and the Ethiopian constitution even goes as far as

stipulating that a civilian must be the Defence Minister at all times. These statements of

intent go a long way in revealing the people's concern for the rule of law.

Finally, beyond the focus on an anti-coup strategy – which is understandable because of the

country’s history, attempts to redefine the role and mission of the security forces most see

security in a wider context and reflect a perspective that sees security and stability as the

flip side of development. There is evidence to suggest that the current administration

understands the link17 but this thinking must be translated into policy.

(iii) Reorientation and Re-professionalisation of the Military

Although the government has strenuously avoided the use of military restructuring,

preferring the more neutral reorientation and reprofessionalisation of the military, the thrust

of its programme indicates that a reorganisation agenda is on course. Taking a cue from the

speech made at the National War College in July, the Vice President, Atiku Abubakar also

promised a "comprehensive transformation of the Armed Forces into an institution able to

prove its worth" when he addressed the Inauguration of the Course Eight at the National

26

War College, Abuja in September 10, 1999. This transformation will include:

• Continuation of rationalisation, downsizing, and right-sizing to allow the military shed

its "dead-woods" as well as discard obsolete equipment.

• Re-equipping the services and upgrading soldiers' welfare, albeit within limits of

budgetary allocation;

• Reversing the harm inflicted on military-civilian relations by years of military rule

through measures to subordinate the military to the democratically constituted

authority;

• Building, rehabilitating and strengthening the relationship between the Nigerian

military and the rest of the world, especially African countries, following years of

diplomatic isolation and sanctions.

Although the word "demobilisation" was avoided, it was clear that euphemisms like "down-

sizing" and "right-sizing" meant precisely that and there was no doubt that years of military

involvement in politics had impacted negatively on military professionalism. Indeed - the

Defence Minister, Lt.General TY Danjuma was less diplomatic and actually stated that

military be pruned by at least 30,000 men from current strength.(Daily Times, July 29,

1999), although the President was more diplomatic when he said the government was yet to

make up its mind on questions of demobilisation and that the military was always shedding

"dead wood", hence there was nothing significant about it. Again, because the desire for

demobilisation and or rationalisation was not based on any informed analysis, the military

was able to argue for maintenance of current force strength. Indeed, by December 2000,

the Defence Minister had turned full circle and acknowledged that the government had

decided against demobilisation because of the ‘multifarious commitments of the military…the

Armed Forces even have commitments for the maintenance of law and order in this

country.’18

It would appear that this shift in the official position has been informed partly by the

perennial concerns over recruitment and representativeness in the armed forces, hence the

wariness in government circles to confront it openly. The strong perception of a

27

disproportionate recruitment of 'Northerners' into the Nigerian military in spite of the

rigorous operation of the federal quota system in military recruitment is one that previous

regimes had had to deal with. The retirement of "political" officers by the Obasanjo

government was immediately perceived in affected circles as a response to the demand to

"right-size" the ethno-religious dimension of the military institution.

Yet the question of an appropriate size for the military, especially at a time of declining

national resources, must be seen in an institutionally open and transparent manner and

through a process of confidence building and conflict management based on objective threat

assessment. For example, if the military mission is primarily coastal - protection of offshore

economic interests, and external - peacekeeping duties, the question must be asked: is the

personnel currently emphasised in the armed forces order of battle suitable for the types of

missions the military will be called to respond to? Are the manpower levels cost-effective,

and most importantly, does the institutional recruitment process procure individuals that are

wholly dedicated to their military duties, in a reliable and efficient manner? Put more

graphically, if an objective threat assessment reveals that internal threats are the dominant

threats to the country, should the armed forces be the answer to this or a properly

equipped, well trained, civil policing arrangement.

If the questions of demobilisation can be resolved along these lines, central to the issue of

military recruitment in terms of military professionalism are then three key questions:

Should the Nigerian armed forces in a democratic dispensation be an equal opportunities

institution? Should it be a combat effective, battle ready force recruited from the most able

in the most rigorous and competitive manner? Should the manner of recruitment matter - if

the training is standardised and geared towards bringing out the best in every recruit?

Although the above are the rational questions to which answers must be found, there is no

evidence to suggest that you cannot have an equal opportunities military that is

professionally competent and up to the task of defending the territorial integrity of the

nation whilst satisfying the ethno-religious balance necessary in a diverse democratising

polity.

Critical to the re-professionalisation of the armed forces as far as the military was concerned

is the ability of the State to provide efficient and well functioning institutions and

infrastructures and an enabling environment for their constitutional tasks to be

accomplished. The former Chief of Army Staff, General Victor Malu aptly captured the

28

feeling of the military constituency in an interview:

“Having come out of very many years of neglect because of our mismanagement, we

expected that the civilian government was going to address issues…Unfortunately,

from June 1999 to date, we haven’t got anything meaningful to assist us in the

process of professionalisation. Our training institutions have not improved, the

training aids with which we conduct the training to reprofessionalise have not been

provided; the situation in the barracks has not changed; as a matter of fact, it has

deteriorated…we did not get anything done last year by way of capital projects and

we thought these were the things we were supposed to do if we are going to

improve on our well being to keep busy in the act of re-professionalising…”

While General Malu’s views above reflect the feeling of despondency both within the military

hierarchy and the rank and file, it is hardly fair to blame the civilian government for the

years of neglect in the military; even less so to expect the President and his team to change

this anomaly in two years. What the political leadership can be blamed for is the lack of

shared understanding about the problem and the lack of ownership of the re-

professionalisation process even by the elected representatives of the people. The feeling is

rife within the military as it is in civil society that the life of the average Nigerian has not

improved in the last two years of civilian governance. Unlike in civil society however, where

these things are expressed daily in the public domain, they have simmered underneath the

surface in the military, partly due to the nature of the institution but mainly due to the

military’s credibility deficit with the Nigerian people who blame all soldiers for the mess the

country is in.

The need to negotiate a process of reconciliation or restitution between the military and the

civil society that takes into account what is in the long term best interests of human rights

and fundamental freedoms in consolidating democracy without generating new conflicts is

more crucial than ever and the government seems to recognise this. Given the military's

chequered history of political intervention and inherent fears in political circles that some

might use the immense economic clout acquired over the years to undermine the gains of

the democratic dispensation, the government's careful approach to this issue is

understandable. Yet in a consolidating democracy, the government was correct to recognise

that a blanket declaration of amnesty or refusal to revisit past misdeeds poses a serious

challenge to the strengthening of stable civil-military relations. Indeed, revisiting the past

29

misdeeds is necessary cathartic exercise, located within the context of sustainable, civil-

military relations. In its establishment of a ‘truth commission’ investigate past violations

however, the right balance must be sought between restitution and reconciliation, between

the search for immediate justice and the need for long term democratic stability. The key

therefore is to ensure an institutional strategy that will streamline and ensure proper

accountability and legislative oversight over security actors. There is no evidence to suggest

that this has happened.

(iv) Demilitarising Public Order and the Role of Civilian Policing

Given the threats posed by internal security by the militarised (dis) order since the new

government assumed office, the role of policing has been a subject of widespread debate in

the country, especially against the backdrop of opposition to the use of military power in

“aid of civil authority", the rise of "ethnic militias" in the country, public perception of police

inefficiency and collusion with ‘agents of crime and insecurity’. On the one hand, the

statutory duties and responsibilities of the Nigeria Police Force are clearly spelt out in

Section 4 of the Police Act of 1956 as follows:” prevention and detection of crime;

apprehension of offenders; preservation of law and order; protection of life and property;

due enforcement of all laws and regulations which they are directly charged; and

performance of such military duties within and without Nigeria as may be required of them

under the authority of the Police Act.” With 37 State Commands, 106 Area Commands, 925

Police Divisions, 2,190 Police Stations throughout the country and 120,000 police officers,

the force clearly an acute manpower shortage. Whilst the UN stipulates a police-citizens

ration of 1:400, the ration is currently 1:1,000 in Nigeria. Added to the gross personnel

shortage is inadequate accommodation and transportation, poor communication network;

poorly funded training institutions; and insufficient crime intelligence gathering capacity.19

There is no doubt that the Nigerian Police Force has witnessed a serious deterioration in the

quality of the service it provides the average citizens under military rule. Yet, the only

period it enjoyed attention from government and occupied a pride of place in the scheme of

things during the civilian administration of 1979-1983, the police management became

embroiled in partisan politics. Besides the politicisation of the police in the second republic

however, the Nigeria Police Force’ reputation for brutality, corruption and arbitrariness

created poor community relations. Consequently, while the civil populace is usually opposed

to military involvement in internal security matters, doubts persist about the efficacy of the

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police authority in confronting public order issues in the post-military transition period.

On its part therefore, the new government has shown the determination to:

1. Restructure and 'demilitarise' responsibility for internal security by giving police

sole responsibility for maintaining internal security and public order;

2. Strengthen the efficiency of the police force by reforming its doctrines, codify

procedures, improve training and standards especially to prevent human rights

abuse recurrence, increase the resources available to it, reduce the dead woods in its

rank, expand its role in intelligence and security information gathering and injecting

new blood into the force,

3. Increasing the size of the police and pay of its operatives thus improving its estimation

in the eyes of the public.

In spite of the government's declared commitment to the above, there is evidence to

suggest that it still has serious doubts about excluding the military completely from internal

security issues - given the recurrence of situations where the police have found it difficult to

cope with incidences of internal dissension. Although the President announced the

withdrawal of the military from joint security patrols with the police on coming to office - a

feature used to intimidate and abuse ordinary Nigerians in the previous dispensation, public

clamour about the inability of the police to cope with the dramatic increase in crime,

especially in the urban areas encouraged a return to these joint patrols in places like Lagos,

Abuja, Kaduna and Port Harcourt. Even if it were to receive the most appropriate support

from the government, correcting the flaws of the past can only take place within a particular

political, socioeconomic and historical context. The evidence of the first year in office is that

the current ad-hoc reforms have not addressed the post-military internal security conditions

in the country. This is understandable even if not excusable for a number of reasons:

• First, the serious economic problems that has led to massive unemployment,

including the highest graduate unemployment in the continent requires an integrated

strategy, not an exclusive focus on law and order;

• Second, the nature of the political problems in the country which is directly linked to

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the rise of ethnic militias and the campaign for State/regional police accountable to

State Governors;

• Third, the proliferation of arms in the country (sometimes of more superior quality

than the weapons carried by the Police);

• The continuing tension between the military and other security agencies in terms of

role clarification encouraged by the rampant crime rates which has overwhelmed the

capacity of the reforming police force;

• Five, the psyche of militarism that is all-pervasive in society and that has broken

down dialogue and consensus driven resolutions of problems.

The above factors definitely pose immense challenges to any successful reform of the

civilian police sector in the internal security reform agenda. Having said this, the question of

engaging civil policing for democratic governance is central to the issue of exorcising

militarism from the body politic as it is relevant to the issue of returning security to the

community, ensuring democratic accountability and revisiting the structure of federalism in

the country. The question as to whether to decentralise the police organisation, structure

and operations has been particularly central to this discourse given the problems that have

attended the centralised control of the police force and the use it had been put to under

previous regimes. To create a service culture, and not a regimented force arrangement,

accountability must be central to public order and the police cannot be trusted within the

community if it retains a structure that is only accountable to the centre and not the

communities they seek to serve. Although concerns have been expressed about the negative

use to which decentralised policing could be put, given the nature of the inter-ethnic

squabbles and community clashes that are prevalent in the country today.

Yet, emboldened by citizens’ campaign for security, many states are responding to the

citizens' clamour by employing the services of ethnic militias for internal security duties. In

Anambra, Rivers, Enugu, Oyo, Osun, and Lagos States, "Bakassi Boys" and Odua Peoples

Congress' operatives have now taken full charge of traffic management, confronting armed

robbers with the approval of the State executives and tacit endorsement of the Federal

police authorities. As a result of these evident problems of performance and credibility that

the Federal Police now encounters, the president recently announced his endorsement of a

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decentralisation package which ensures accountability to the elected State authority in

addition to their accountability to the Central government, although without the mechanism

to enforce that principle.

Yet the problems of policing cannot be seen in isolation of the criminal justice system since

the police is an implementing agent of the criminal justice system Reforms to the judicial

system have been much slower to be adopted by the current judicial hierarchy than reforms

to the military and the police, but until there is a comprehensive approach to access to

justice and law enforcement, even the resolution of the resource deficit will not bring

change.

(v) Balancing the demands of defence with the needs of development

The concomittant effect of the reorientation has been the challenge posed on the sectoral

reform by the management of security expenditure "within limits of budgetary allocation" as

the Vice President put it. Yet the process of reform need not be antagonistic or adversarial

to the management of the military expenditure even as the debate about how much is

enough to maintain defence remains a realistic issue on the agenda. In this regard, it is

commendable that the government recognises that strengthening the military professionally

without corresponding provision of adequate resources and political support may simply lead

to frustration and possibly, unfulfilled and exaggerated expectations. On the other hand, it is

important for government to realise that downsizing, right-sizing and sectoral reform may

actually lead to an increase in military expenditure, not a decrease at least in the interim.

This is why planning and the building of mutual confidence and transparency remain at the

heart of organisational effectiveness and security sector transformation. Hence, adopting a

single-minded approach that defence spending must be reduced from the outset serve as a

disincentive, especially for security actors but ignoring concerns about the need to attend to

social and developmental spending is threatening to the overall goal of stability, security and

democratic consolidation.

For this reason, there is a growing clamour for broadening the definition of security in the

military reform agenda. This broader conception seeks to articulate security in a manner

that the individual, the group as well as the state may relate to its fundamental objectives of

promoting and ensuring the right to life and livelihood. While the government recognises the

need to strike the right balance and understand the dangers that might accompany too

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broad a conception of security which altogether dismisses the legitimate need for the

military - as is already evident in the carte blanche demand for the reduction of military

expenditure in some civil society circles - the government is not doing enough in developing

a consensus in society around this broader definition of security.

(D.) International & Regional Dimensions of Security Sector Transformation

While the reform of the military is a wholly internal project, the Nigerian nation-state is

caught between the Scylla of ethno-nationalism and the charybdis of globalisation and she

can only ignore them at its own peril. It is not surprising therefore that the Vice-President

referred to the specific need to ‘build, rehabilitate and strengthen the relationship between

the Nigerian military and the rest of the world, especially African countries, following years

of diplomatic isolation and sanctions”. That the international community does have a role to

play is not contested. The issue is how to determine the process of engaging the

international community in the security sector transformation project. The litmus test for this

hovered around the decision to involve foreign advisers in the re-professionalisation

programme of the military.

a) Foreign advisers and the military re-professionalisation programme: In seeking to

understand the involvement of foreign military advisers in the reprofessionalisation

programme, it is important to state that the Nigerian military is not new to bi-lateral military

cooperation agreements. As a product of a colonial army, the British helped set up the

Army and the Navy, the Germans set up the air force and the premier training institution,

Nigerian Defence Academy was established with the assistance of the Indians.

Although there were various options open to the administration on coming to power, the

administration in its wisdom decided to engage the services of a foreign private concern of

retired military officers known to have close connections to the government of the United

States in the re-professionalisation programme. The organization, Military Professionals

Resources Incorporated (MPRI), describes itself as a "professional Services Company that

provides private sector leader development and training and military-related contracting and

consulting in the US and international defense markets". It has been involved in military

training, weapons procurement and advisory services in Croatia, Saudi Arabia and Angola

before winning the US government supported contract to be involved in Nigeria. In 1999,

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MPRI undertook on behalf of the US Department of Defense and USAID Office of Transition

Initiatives an 8 - person, 120 day assessment mission aimed at developing "an action plan

to integrate a reformed military establishment into a new civilian contexf”. In the course of

the assessment mission in the country, it also ran a series of workshops on civil military

relations for senior military officers, civilians and various armed formations across the

country. Since completing the initial assessment, it has signed a new contract "The

Transition-Civil Military Program for Nigeria" which focuses on three key areas - a) Military

reform; b) Creation and development of new civilian institutions for civil-military affairs; and,

(c) Support for de-militarisation of society.

No doubt, all of the above constitute areas in which support can be rendered to the Nigerian

military, as long as local ownership is not jeopardised and this involvement is under the

purview of the legislature and the professional military, not just the president and the

Minister of Defence. Unfortunately, this has not been the case. MPRI has become a

permanent fixture in the Ministry of Defence with an office and full complement of staff.

Apart from the undisguised opposition of the military professionals to MPRI’s unrestricted

access, MPRI’s belief that models of civil military relations from a different social-cultural

context can be transferred into another context wholesale is seen to be more problematic.

Since this is also a pattern that Nigerians have become familiar with in other fields of

government – the seeming dependency on foreigners for assistance even where local

expertise will do - General Malu’s public criticism of the need to “protect our nation” struck

the right chord with even people such as Gani Fawehinmi and others not known for their

endorsement of anything coming from the military. General Malu went to great lengths in

his interview with Tempo to explain his opposition to the involvement of MPRI and the Ford

Bragg team:

We are a sovereign nation and we should protect our national interest. I

don’t think it’s the duty of any foreign country to tell us what our defence policy or

what our strategic policy or those things that can only be determined by Nigerians

should be…

…Part of the misunderstanding we had with the Americans coming to train us was

that they wanted to train us in the rudimentary art of soldiering. We objected to

that because we are an army of well-trained soldiers and seasoned officers that lack

logistics…20

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What seems clear is that the involvement of MPRI has been more donor driven than would

ordinarily have been the case and it is important that partnerships between donors and

national governments must be on an equal footing if it is to produce the right results.

Approaches that allow supporters to assist in the military reform process without seeking to

drive them and without placing more premium on ownership and claiming credit ought to be

the pivot of such relationships. This will inevitably require a determination to seek

engagement over a long term, greater transparency and willingness to engage in a more

open and sustained dialogue with government, parliament, civil society and the security

actors (not just the president and the defence minister) whilst treating security sector

reform as a complementary, rather than a separate part of the whole development and

institutional reform process. For now, while the rhetoric is one of relief that Nigeria is under

a democratic dispensation, a careful deconstruction of the actions of the mature

democracies eager to support the process will reveal an unprecedented bias towards a

particular outcome in the democratisation project, an outcome which promotes "stability"

and "security", without seeing them as mutual reinforcing elements alongside equity and

consensus driven concerns for the social and political transformation of Nigeria's sordid past.

International involvement in police and judicial reform has taken a more cautious and

inclusive approach and elicited more support even though not much has happened by way

of international assistance in this area.

b) Nigeria within the West African region: Caught between the politics of globalisation

and the sub-nationalism of local politics which has been exacerbated by the politics of

ethnicity, the Nigerian state seemed to have concluded in favour of a regionalist project in

its security sector transformation. Given the intertwined nature of many of the conflicts in

the region, the government takes as departure point the fact that any prospect for

demilitarisation can only occur as part of a concerted effort by the ECOWAS Community.

Consequently, the Nigerian government has been pivotal to the renewed vigour experienced

by the regional body, ECOWAS seeing regional security within the context of national and

sub-national problems. For example, the Nigerian government links the proliferation of

weapons that has fuelled the latent internal conflicts in the country, in part to the flow of

small arms within the region, not unconnected to the various wars. Hence, the

commitment, which hitherto has been predicated on the largeness of heart, is now being

tied to unresolved political issues at home, rather than when the concentration on regional

issues merely provided an escape route to avoid dealing with the crisis generated internally.

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The government’s commitment to integration of the economy and pursuit of the dual-track

monetary policy arrangement underscores the understanding on the part of the Nigerian

state that there is a need to go beyond pro-forma creation of peacekeeping force. To be an

effective antidote to globalisation and ethnnicisation – there is now a firm recognition that

regionalism must permeate the nation-state and its citizens in a more deep-rooted manner.

c) International Peacekeeping Commitment: To a large extent, the government’s

continued focus on peacekeeping is also tied to this twin-strategy of using opportunities

presented abroad to address some of the problems faced at home. In this regard,

peacekeeping has been the main mechanism for maintaining professionalism in the military

in the three decades of military involvement in politics and it now seems that the

government is interested in institutionalising this role and carving a niche for the military

and other security outfits in preventive diplomacy and peace-keeping.

Conclusion: Prospects for reform and Lessons for the future

Overall, the government has shown fidelity and commitment to the issue of security sector

reform, but has concentrated largely on military reform in the two years that it has been in

office. Yet, militarism and militarisation still pose a major problem for the Nigerian state. In

suggesting the structural mechanisms highlighted above for de-emphasising the place of

force in the resolution of conflicts in the polity, the emphasis is on recognising that security

sector transformation is part of overall national restructuring and it is for this reason that the

single most important need is now a consensus based, security sector review exercise which

takes into account the places of all the security actors and oversight institutions, both public

and private in fashioning an agenda that all stakeholders can identify with and sign up to.

Yet, while it is clear that the question of structure is central, the presence of agents of

delivery is absolutely crucial if structure is to deliver on the goods. Based on the foregoing

analysis, a number of measures seem to suggest themselves in developing an agent-

structure approach to security sector transformation in Nigeria:

1. Security Sector restructuring can only succeed in the long run within the context of

national restructuring;

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2. There is a need for conceptual clarity in government through a comprehensive approach

to security sector reform which can produce a rationally ordered, codified security sector

review framework and plan of action;

3. There is a need to deepen the regional approach to security sector transformation with a

view to integrating the political, social and the economic;

4. Policy instruments must recognise the need to reconcile economic and social

development and enhance the input of non-state actors – in policy formulation to

enhance social capital.

5. International assistance is only helpful within the context of a clearly felt need;

6. Recognition of the legitimate security needs of the communities and constituencies that

make up the nation must be factored into the human security approach to poverty

reduction.

7. Policy instruments must recognise the link between globalisation and conflict, rather

than assume that the effect of introducing global market principles is always going to be

positive in the promotion of pro-poor growth.

8. Policy instruments must locate the security agenda within the democracy and

development framework and reflect the link between politics and economics, and

between security and opportunities in the set of values adopted to enhance security

sector transformation.

9. Democratic, not just civilian, control of military and security establishments in

democratising polities is necessary.

10. The human security approach is a process, whose results will not necessarily be

immediate, hence the need for a long term view by interested stakeholders.

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End Notes

1 Isawa Eliagwu, Gowon: The Biography of a Soldier-Statesman (Lagos: John West Publications, 1986) 2 J.J.Oluleye, Military Leadership in Nigeria, 1966 - 79, (Ibadan: University Press Limited, 1986) 3 o.Obasanjo: Not My Will: An Autobiography of a Former Head of State,(Ibadan: Ibadan University Press, 1990). 4 Ex-Isreali agents were already in charge of training the intelligence outfits and the presidential guard by then. 5 There is a plethora of primary documents now covering this period. Among many others, see The News Magazine, “The Trial of Abacha’s Killer gang – We were paid to kill Kudirat - Excerpts from Sgt.Rogers Mshelia’s Confession Notes”, October 4, 1999; The Week Magazine, “Gwarzo confesses to Yar’adua’s murder”, October 4, 1999; Tell Magazine, “Bamaiyi’s Plan to Kill IBB – Exclusive interview with General Oladipo Diya”, October 4, 1999; “I would have tried Abacha – Exclusive interview with General Obasanjo” Tell Magazine, November 8, 1999 and “Ishaya Bamaiyi: From Grace to Chains”, The Week Magazine, December 6, 1999. Also, a lot of the petitions submitted to the Human Rights

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Violation Investigations Commission cover the state sponsored assassinations that took place under General Abacha. 6 See J.’Kayode Fayemi, “Military Hegemony and the Transition Program in Nigeria”, Issue: Journal of Opinion, African Studies Association, 1999, New Jersey, USA. 7 See J.Kayode Fayemi, ‘The Military in Business in Nigeria,’ in The Project on the Military as an Economic Actor (Bonn: Bonn International Conversion Center, 2000). Also available at www.bicc.de 8 ibid. 9 J.Bayo Adekanye, The Retired Military Phenomenon, (Ibadan: Heinemann, 1999) 10 See address by late Dr Pius Okigbo at the submission of the report of inquiry into the finances of the Central Bank of Nigeria between September 1988 to June 1994. 11 Fayemi, The Military in Business, op-cit. 12 Even in the allocation of the Petroleum Task Force funds to the military, there was no evidence of transparent use of the resources. 13 Prior to the first military coup in 1966, two thirds of the officers were Ibo in origin. 14 On the issue of recruitment, see J.’Kayode Fayemi, “The Politics of Military Recruitment in Nigeria: A critical appraisal,” Tempo Magazine, August 27, 1997,pp.4-5. 15 See Biko Agozino & Unyirem Idem, Democratising a Militarised Civil Society in Nigeria, CDD Occasional Paper 5, (London:CDD, 2000) for a recent survey of the psyche of militarism. 16 This view was strongly espoused by the President and the national security team at the first Presidential retreat on National Security in which a range of stakeholders were invited by the President to discuss security issues within the context of a democratic society. 17 See Olusegun Obasanjo, Grand Strategy for National Security (2001: The Presidency, Abuja) 18 See Pan African News Agency, ‘Nigeria shelves plans to trim Military’, December 24, 2000. 19Interview with the Inspector-General of Police, Mr Musiliu Smith, August 11, 2001 20 See Tempo Magazine, July 8, 2001