By Abdul Mahmud
The Nigerian state has a peculiar way of rewarding those who serve its interests. Individuals whose pasts are marked by allegations of political violence, intimidation and the suppression of dissent sometimes find themselves elevated to positions of authority within the very institutions they once helped to compromise. The rewards come in different forms: ministerial appointments, university positions and access to the corridors of power. Such appointments raise an uncomfortable question about the character of our political establishment and the value it places on the protection of democratic freedoms.
My experience at the University of Jos in 1991 remains an important part of this history. On 24 September 1991, I was attacked by a group of individuals whom I have consistently identified as participants in the violence directed against me. Among those I have named are Solomon Dalung and Professor Dami Danjuma Filibus. My account of that day is not a recent invention, nor is it a story manufactured to settle a contemporary political disagreement. It belongs to a period in the history of student activism when progressive students confronted an establishment determined to contain their influence.
I was then President of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS) whose political commitments placed me in opposition to the forces that sought to control student politics at the University of Jos. The struggle was about more than positions in the students’ union. It concerned the right of students to organise independently, question authority and participate in the wider struggle for democratic change in Nigeria.
For those of us who understood student activism as part of a broader movement against authoritarianism, intimidation was not merely a personal threat. It was an instrument for suppressing an entire political tendency. The events of 24 September 1991 must be understood within that context. I maintain that Dalung, Dami and others participated in the attack against me. These are serious allegations, and I stand by my account of the events. The passage of time does not extinguish the obligation to confront such a history, particularly when individuals associated with it subsequently occupy influential positions in public life.
The question of Professor Dami Danjuma Filibus is especially troubling because of the contradiction between the allegations surrounding his past and the authority he later acquired within the university. An institution established to promote learning, critical inquiry and the free exchange of ideas ought to be a sanctuary for intellectual independence. Its leadership should embody those values. When an individual accused of participating in violence against a student activist later assumes the position of Dean of Students’ Affairs, the public is entitled to ask what values informed the appointment and what standards governed the institution’s choices. A dean responsible for students’ affairs occupies a position of considerable responsibility.
The office demands an understanding of student welfare, freedom of association, peaceful political engagement and the right of students to express dissent without fear of violence. The credibility of such an office rests not simply on academic qualifications or administrative competence, but also on a commitment to the principles that protect students from arbitrary power.
My objection is not that a person must remain permanently excluded from public service because of an allegation made against him. A fair society must distinguish between accusation and proof, and every individual is entitled to an opportunity to respond. My concern is that allegations of this gravity should not be dismissed merely because the individuals concerned have acquired respectable titles or institutional influence. Nor should professional advancement become a substitute for accountability.
Solomon Dalung’s subsequent appointment as a minister illustrates the same disturbing pattern. The establishment that once benefited from the suppression of progressive student activism later elevated him to national political office. In the case of Dami, the university itself became the site of his subsequent advancement. These developments invite a broader examination of how Nigerian institutions reward loyalty, distribute authority and remember the conduct of those who serve them.
The pattern is familiar in our political history. Those who resist authoritarian power often bear the consequences through intimidation, detention, expulsion or violence. Others who help enforce the prevailing order may discover that political usefulness opens doors that principled dissent keeps closed. The reward is not always an explicit bargain. Sometimes it emerges through a culture in which loyalty to powerful interests matters more than the protection of fundamental rights.
Dalung’s attempt to connect my revelations about his past to his comments concerning Abike Dabiri does not alter this history. I have challenged him over these events for years. The public statements and posts I have reproduced establish the chronology of my criticism. My account predates the present controversy and cannot honestly be reduced to a reaction to it.
Neither Dalung nor Dami should be permitted to escape scrutiny simply because the years have passed. Equally, neither should be condemned without the opportunity to answer the allegations. What is required is an honest engagement with the past, one that does not confuse political influence with innocence or institutional respectability with moral vindication.
The University of Jos also has a responsibility to its history. The experiences of student activists who endured intimidation and violence deserve to be preserved, examined and acknowledged. Universities cannot credibly teach democratic values while treating allegations of political violence within their own communities as inconvenient memories.
I remember 24 September 1991 because history does not disappear when those implicated in it acquire titles. A ministerial appointment cannot erase an allegation, and a professorship cannot settle a question of accountability. Public office should impose a higher obligation to answer difficult questions, not provide protection from them. The ultimate test of an institution is not the power it confers on its appointees, but the principles it upholds when confronted with uncomfortable truths. Nigeria will struggle to build a democratic culture for as long as those accused of helping to suppress dissent can advance without meaningful public scrutiny, while those who resisted them are expected to remain silent.
I have no intention of surrendering that history to convenience, political revisionism or the passage of time.