“There is no neutral ground on which one ought to stand in a time of tyranny. I believe an ambassador is an envoy not only to the government to which he or she is accredited but also to the people”
– A former United States Ambassador to Nigeria, Walter Carrington.
The passing, on Tuesday, at the graceful age of 90, of a former American ambassador to Nigeria, Mr. Walter Carrington, obviously one of the heroes of Nigerian democracy, provides an apposite opportunity to reflect, not just on one of our icons, but also on someone who contributed tremendously to the rebirth of democracy in Nigeria. It is one of history’s ironies that the darkest troughs in human affairs coincide also with bright passages in which men of valour rise up to the occasion to initiate fresh vistas of progress. So, Carrington, very much one of us, if seen through the lenses, for example, of his Edo State-born wife, Arese, employed one of the darkest patches in our history, the Abacha dictatorship, to redefine the role and place of ambassadors in lands tyrannised by brutal dictators. Of course, Carrington had a number of options in those terrible times, he could have buried himself in the doctrine of diplomatic neutrality. He could have projected a double face, exuding warmth and good feelings, shared in roughly equal proportion between the establishment and the democratic activists, or simply adopt tokenism, making all the politically correct noises while doing nothing substantive to alter the balance.
It is to the ambassador’s honour and lasting credit that he chose the most personally risky option of directly supporting and succouring embattled democratic campaigners, directly speaking truth to power, setting off a debate whether he had gone beyond the call of duty in order to change the course of history. The point will be better grasped by contrasting Carrington’s activist profile with his successor, William Twaddell’s diplomatic reticence. Although the times have changed somewhat, Twaddell famously averred that an ambassador has no business interfering in the affairs of the country to which he is sent, given that only the nationals of that country can fix their own problems. Needless to say that some observers considered that position as an implied criticism of Carrington’s almost crusading advocacy. Nature and Nurture have something to do with it, taking into account, for example, that Carrington was no stranger to activism which he began early in his student days at Harvard University, and honed in the context of the struggles of Black Americans for racial inequality. It is noticeable, to take an instance, that, even as a student leader, he was elected as a member of the national board of directors of the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People. Understandably, therefore, the man threw himself unreservedly into the anti-Abacha struggle, making common cause with the National Democratic Coalition which was leading the protest against the brutal dictatorship. He would later justify his position in a book he published in the prelude to his 80th birthday anniversary, entitled, ‘A Duty to Speak: Refusing to remain Silent in a time of Tyranny’. Responding to the probings of a journalist from The PUNCH who had interviewed the ambassador in 2016, Carrington revealed that he was working on an autobiography, which would answer some of the reporter’s questions regarding his confrontation with the tyrants, between 1993 and 1998.
It is not known, at the moment, whether the book was ever completed before the passing, during the week, of the ambassaador. One recollects, however, that the diplomat sometimes walked directly in the shadow of death, which he avoided by the whiskers, at least on one occassion, when a security seige was thrown around the building where he parleyed with opposition figures. Undeterred, Carrington continued to insist that Gen. Sani Abacha should hand over power to the winner of the annuled June 12, 1993 presidential election, or at least, return Nigeria to a functioning democracy. He went beyond that to demand the release of the swelling group of political detainees, calling on his own government to tighten the noose around the dictatorship.
In order to grasp the audacity of those speeches, we must factor the state of terror and intimidation unleashed by Abacha in those years.The democratic struggle had claimed several matyrs such as: Pa Alfred Rewane, Kudirat Abiola, Ken Saro Wiwa, while several others such as Prof. Wole Soyinka, Gen. Alani Akinrinade, Chief Bola Tinubu, among others, had been driven into exile. Ignoring domestic and international opinions about his human rights record, Abacha did not hesitate to deal summarily with critics of the regime. Given this context, it was considered extremely dangerous for anyone to openly criticise the government. Carrington’s bold choice was made in full recognition of the opportunity cost and possible consequences of his daring. Nigerians will remain ever grateful to him, that he stood the course when he could easily have compromised or be lily-livered. Pertinent as well, is the fact that, back home in the United States, there was a policy schizophrenia in which the oil companies operating in Nigeria, for example, marshalled support for the dictatorship, arguing opportunistically, that, any ground yielded by American companies would be promptly filled by European businesses which were no strangers to economic long knives and stabbing in the back. Such positions, and influential opinions, coexisted with those of human rights campaigners, who insisted on tough sanctions. The lack of resolution in the United States policy community made Carrington’s staying at the bariccades, unique and much needed to counterbalance voices rooting for Abacha. Indeed, in a moment of memorable vasccilation and double-mindedness, former President Bill Clinton said, in the course of a visit to Africa, that the US would support an Abacha presidency (which was then gathering momentum), if the dictator would put off his military uniform and run as a civilian. Against the background of fuzziness, double-speak and backsliding, even among the progressives in the US continued to stand out. Carrington’s clarity, single mindedness and focus continued to stand out. When we ascribe the accelerated tempo in the transition to democracy to a combination of dissenters within the Nigerian establishment, the international community and Nigerian civil society, we must be clear that within these generic groups, there were contradictions and a great deal of incoherence. This makes the achievement of those who remained forthright, even more appreciable.
After his ambassadorial assignment, Carrington continued to play a stabilising role and a counselling function on behalf of Nigerian democracy. His conferment with the title of ‘Omowale’, which translates roughly as ‘return of the homeboy’, is in appreciation of the role he played in bringing about and sustaining Nigeria’s return to democracy. This brings us to the issue of the unfinished tasks of democratisation in Nigeria and the question of whether what we have today is what the activists envisioned. Twenty years into democratic rule, our democracy remains shallow, unconsolidated with large doses of authoritarian mindset. To hold a protest rally is an uphill task with slim chances of survival without a broken limb. Elections are a high-rise affair, usually violent and unpredictable. Party democracy is virtually nil while poverty is on an upscale rampage. A true appreciation of the legacy of Carrington will include a doubling of efforts to address and redress the yawning lacuna.
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