In the vast expanse of Nigeria’s political history, few figures remain as elusive and burdened by the weight of their own decisions as General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida. Decades after stepping away from power, his name still evokes strong emotions— of scepticism and, for many, outright disdain.
Unlike his predecessors and successors, who have severally been subject to moments of nostalgia or revisionist sympathy, Babangida has largely remained a villain in the nation’s historical imagination.
This is the context in which his new book, A Journey in Service arrives: an attempt, not so much at historical documentation, but at historical redemption.
For a leader who spent considerable time outside the public eye, his book represents a long-overdue effort to reclaim his narrative. Yet, for those of us who did not witness his rule firsthand, the question remains, did Babangida succeed in rewriting his legacy?
A History Well Told, A Truth Half Kept
There is no doubt that Babangida offers a unique perspective on Nigeria’s history. Unlike historians or journalists who reconstruct the past through secondhand accounts, Babangida was at the very center of power.
He recalls events with detail, naming individuals and exposing scenarios often glossed over by others. This alone gives the book historical value, as it fills gaps in the collective memory of a nation that too often forgets.
But history is more than just recounting events; it is about context, accountability, and honesty. And it is here that Babangida falters.
In the book, his role in Nigeria’s defining crises like the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP), political instability, and the annulment of the June 12 elections are recounted with a familiar, almost predictable detachment.
He does not outright deny responsibility, but he does something more frustrating: he minimizes it.
Babangida paints himself as a man trapped by forces beyond his control—either the economy dictated his policies, political actors forced his hand, or fate itself orchestrated events in ways he could not alter.
It is a careful balancing act: neither an outright confession nor a complete exoneration, but an attempt to blur the lines between agency and inevitability.
A Legacy Unchanged for our Generation
For those of us who did not witness Babangida’s rule in real-time, the book is unlikely to alter much. Babangida’s legacy has not been softened by time.
Unlike figures like General Yakubu Gowon, who despite his wartime controversies, is sometimes credited with youthful idealism. Even Abacha, the most notorious of them all, is sporadically praised in certain circles for his infrastructural projects.
Babangida, however, has remained a figure of suspicion, his name synonymous with political manoeuvring, economic hardship, and institutionalized corruption.
This book, for all its attempts at nuance, does little to disrupt that perception. If anything, it reinforces it.
The launch event itself was telling, an extravagant affair attended by figures who symbolize the Nigeria Babangida helped shape: wealthy, shadowy, and utterly detached from the struggles of ordinary Nigerians.
It was, in essence, a performance of power, a reminder of why his reputation remains largely unredeemed.
A Justification, Not a Revelation
At its core, Babangida’s memoir is not a revelation, it is a justification. It does not challenge his historical image so much as it seeks to soften its edges. But history is not so easily rewritten. Legacy is not crafted by mere words but by the weight of real consequences.
For those of us seeking a candid, unvarnished account of one of Nigeria’s most controversial leaders, this book offers only half the story. And as history has shown, half the story is often more dangerous than it’s omission in entirety.