You can call me a fool; I won’t bat an eyelid. I have the right to be foolish. But do not call me stupid. Foolishness is a choice—a lack of good sense or judgment. Stupidity is not; it is a lack of intelligence, an inability to think. Foolishness is the obstinacy that dares a lamb to stare down a tiger. With a little caution, the lamb could have hidden and escaped a bloody journey into the tiger’s belly. Stupidity, however, is the crown on an empty skull, the state of being easily led and manipulated.
In the grand theatre of Nigerian politics, our leaders stage elaborate plays of conflict and outrage, all for public consumption. The question for the audience—the citizenry—is whether our engagement with their drama is an act of foolish defiance or a symptom of being treated with collective 'stupidity'
*Act I: The Fable of the Tiger and the Serpent*
The opening act of our long-running national drama began in the last moments of 1983, when Maj. Gen. Muhammadu Buhari blazed into power. His coup was a welcome blow that broke the spine of the inept Shehu Shagari administration. Fire bellowed from the nostrils of the Buhari tiger, clawing and mauling perceived impediments to national greatness.
Everybody feared the tiger until, two years later, a certain lamb from Niger State came to tame it. This lamb was beautiful, and its voice was melodious. The people, who feared the tiger, loved the lamb. However, not long after being crowned, the corrupt wind of mutation blew. The lamb shed its fur for scales and metamorphosed into a snake. Its harmless mouth became striking serpentine jaws, and savagery replaced its genteel nature. In August 1985, this snake, Brig. Gen. Ibrahim Babangida, chased the tiger from its lair and took over the kingdom. This foundational conflict—the righteous tiger deposed by the cunning serpent—remains a recurring theme, replayed for every new generation.
*Act II: A President's Lament*
This long-running drama recently had a new scene, one seemingly designed to pull at the public's heartstrings. Last week, President Buhari, the tiger restored, lamented in Abuja that he was ousted in 1985 because he was fighting corruption. He said, “I was removed... detained for three years and people whom we recovered stolen money from were given back their money.”
This was a carefully scripted monologue for the national stage. If, as he claims, he knows who these corrupt individuals are, why has his renewed war on corruption not brought them to justice? Is this a genuine lament from a wronged leader, or is it a calculated performance to gain sympathy, banking on our **stupidity** to mistake political theatre for genuine vulnerability? The script conveniently ignores the complexities of his own past in favour of a simple, heroic narrative.
*Act III: The Sideshow of the Senate and the IGP
If the President's performance was a tragedy, the next act in our political circus was pure farce, starring Senate President Bukola Saraki and Inspector-General of Police (IGP) Ibrahim Idris. After Saraki accused the IGP of a plot against him, a video clip of the IGP stumbling over the word "transmission" went viral.
It was a masterful piece of distraction. The video was clearly doctored, yet it succeeded in shifting the national conversation from state security and executive-legislative tensions to social media memes and mockery of one man's diction. While the public was busy laughing, the real issues were obscured. Both sides weaponized the media, one to embarrass, the other to defend, proving that the goal was never truth, but control of the narrative. Was the joke on the IGP, or was it on us for being so easily entertained and diverted? This is the hallmark of a ruling class that treats its populace with 'stupidity'.
*The Climax: An Ultimatum as Performance Art
The climax of the week's performance was the National Assembly's grand gesture: a 12-point ultimatum to the President. It was a dramatic reading of demands, a public show of force intended to portray the legislature as the valiant defender of democracy. They demanded an end to killings, respect for the rule of law, and a host of other noble actions, as listed below:
1. *End the Killings**
2. *Stop Harassment**
3. *Adhere to Rule of Law**
4. *Hold Appointees Accountable**
5. *Fight Corruption Impartially**
6. *Respect the National Assembly**
7. *Secure Our Democracy**
8. *Collaborate with Civil Society**
9. *Address Unemployment and Poverty
10. *Vote of Confidence** (in their own leadership)
11. *Vote of No Confidence in IGP**
12. *Final Warning**
This list, while containing legitimate grievances, was delivered more for its theatrical effect than for any expectation of immediate change. It was a power play, another scene in the unending drama of who controls the state.
*Conclusion: Rejecting the Script*
And so the curtain falls on another week of Nigerian political theatre. We have seen a tragic hero lament his past, a comical feud distract the masses, and a dramatic ultimatum delivered with righteous fury. These are the political innuendos—the expertly crafted performances designed to keep us perpetually engaged, outraged, and entertained, but ultimately powerless.
This brings us back to the beginning. The architects of this theatre rely on our 'stupidity'—our inability to see past the performance and question the script itself. They believe we will forever be content to be spectators, cheering for one actor and booing another, while the theatre itself crumbles around us.
The ultimate question is not about their performance, but about ours. Will we, the audience, continue to be stupefied by the spectacle? Or will we find the collective 'foolishness' to do something truly radical: to reject the script, walk out of the theatre, and demand a reality that serves us, not the players.
AS Presented by Fame Agidife @TheFameAgidifeLectures (TFALL)
No comments:
Post a Comment