AKIN OSUNTOKUN: At 60, I Don’t Feel Physically Different From When I Was 40

Strategist and former political adviser to former President Olusegun Obasanjo, Akin Osuntokun, who recently clocked 60, fears Nigeria’s precarious situation. Beyond nostalgia, he is convinced Nigeria has the potential to be a developed nation based on its past. In this interview with BAYO AKINLOYE, Osuntokun recalls his childhood, his father’s role in Chief Obafemi Awolowo and Chief Samuel Akintola’s governments in the old Western Region, and standing up for what he believed was right during Gen. Sani Abacha dictatorship and Obasanjo’s administration. Excerpts:

You turned 60 recently. What can you say about life so far?
Typically I have had my fair share of trials, challenges, victories and setbacks. Where I have had a unique experience is the way my childhood became the victim of politically peculiar circumstances. But on the whole, I consider myself generally lucky.

What specific examples will you give to illustrate that?
My father was a minister when I was born, and he had been minister six years before I was born, and he was minister five years after I was born. That means he was a minister for 11 years, from 1955 to 66. This is the definition of a privileged childhood.
So the circumstances of my birth alone that’s, to have a father like that, that’s unique, and then that’s something that, I mean he left a very good name. Atop this is that his brothers also did extraordinarily well. You know, they were all unique achievers. So there was a foundation of distinction in public life. It gives you a start in life that opens doors for you. It inspires you. So, those are very unique circumstances. But at the same time, there was another side of the coin. My dad was a minister under Chief Obafemi Awolowo and Chief Ladoke Akintola. He was a minister under Awolowo from 1955 to 60, and thereafter Akintola became the premier of the Western Region.

So the crisis, in the factional crisis of the action group, my father took sides with Akintola, whose camp became the target of the violent eruptions consequent on the 1965 regional elections. To the bargain, the crisis climaxed with the arsonist destruction of our residence. This sanguinary happenstance was the first thing I remembered in life. I couldn’t quite recollect anything before that enormous event. Needless to say, it was quite a traumatic experience for a young person. I was four. These are the conspicuous circumstances that constituted my initiation into auto-centric consciousness. It left a scar because all those who belonged to the Akintola faction were demonised and victimised. So, it was a bit of a rough childhood for anybody with my bona fide and who grew up in the Western region. And I was named Akintola, which compounded my own problem. I remember crying to my parents several times that I wanted to change my name, well they ignored me.

At the age of six or seven, I took a unilateral declaration of independence to change my name to Akinjide, only to discover that that name belonged to my uncle. Anyway so, it was quite traumatic growing up in that kind of political environment. It was a very peculiar environment to wean a child. To have a father like my dad and then upon you now have that name. But, as I said, it also added value to my life at the same time — my intellectual life. I had to ask questions. My father was highly revered in Ekiti. His name opened doors. He was a legendary educationist. He trained many of those who became the second generation of the educated elite in Ekiti. They identified with him as their mentor. It shaped my whole aspiration in terms of career; most sons see their fathers as their role models. I wanted to be a public figure, so to say, like my father. To be admired and popular, that was what I had in mind.

Did you achieve that dream? If yes, how did that happen?
There was no specific route. I just had that general idea. I was fascinated. I was attracted to public life. And I had an affinity for government and economics when I was in secondary school. So, I ended up studying Political Science at the university. My first and second degree, which then set me on a path and then because I have a flair for writing so, I more or less subconsciously drifted into that career trajectory. When I left university, we all wanted to work in the oil industry or the banks. Fortunately for me, I didn’t get a job in the banking industry or the oil sector. I ended up at the National Directorate of Employment. I was actually the pioneer and the project officer of the small-scale graduate development skills in Oyo; that was around 1985 or 1986. Later, I left to do my masters. By that time, I had earned some recognition. I had engaged in freelance writing. I attained some recognition in the media so, when I finished my masters, it was mine if I wanted a job in the media industry, so that was just it.

I joined Vanguard. I was a member of the editorial board, an editorial writer and a columnist, and that was what I was for the past 30 years. From Vanguard to Daily times and Guardian and eventually, of course, THISDAY, where I still maintain a column. That has been my journalism career. Now, of course, as a columnist and my forte is political advocacy, my background came to enrich my competence: what I have to offer. I knew a lot. I’ve had an intuitive attachment to politics, and I grew up to be also very critical. My university education in political science reinforced this. I love reading. I like flexibility, you know, in my daily life, which journalism gives you.

Do you want to tell us about your time being a political adviser to ex-President Olusegun Obasanjo?
I’ve had a unique background. I have to emphasise that. There’s no way anybody can deliberately put together the kind of combination that I had that prepared me for the job. It’s not something that can be contrived or replicated. Quite a really critical part of it was the experience of the political crisis in the old Western Region when I was growing up. There was what we call herd mentality: everything Awolowo was good; everything Akintola was bad. The reality was quite difficult. I have a direct experience of the misinterpretation of what public life is, the one that should be valued or devalued.

As I said, I had a father who was exemplary in public service. I owed myself an obligation to have a more critical understanding of what had transpired. I mean how to draw the right conclusions, understand the country itself, the political sector, etc. My university education in political science also gave me a boost, critical thinking, and then journalism capped it. I was equally involved in a startup public policy consultancy. During my time at The Guardian, I engaged in critical editorial writing, where I called black, black and no other name. Taking the kind of posture that I took entailed risk. I was very critical of the Abacha government, and my column was known for that. Not only me but all other weekly columnists were also distinguished for taking a similar position, and the editorials that were coming out of The Guardian were superlative. We were committed to the validation of the presidential election that was annulled and, of course, fighting against military dictatorship.

After the death of Abacha and the ensuing transition to civil rule programme, I was adopted by the Afenifere patriarchs as the AD (Alliance for Democracy) aspirant for the Senate in 1999. I had some adversaries at the local level. So, it didn’t work out so. Then, I was invited by Dangote Group when it was diversifying to take charge of their corporate affairs and public outreach. From Dangote Group, I was tapped, invited by President Obasanjo to represent the South West on his reelection campaign team as director of media and publicity, the campaign spokesperson in the 2002/2003 electoral cycle. More or less from 2002 onwards, from that period, I had been acting as a political adviser, but it did not get formalised until 2006. Before then, I was a member of the inner caucus, what we call the kitchen cabinet and served effectively as a political adviser.

But it was formalised, subsequently formalised. That was quite an exciting time to be in that kind of position: to manage the exit strategy of the president who was going to complete two terms in office and then the succession plans. As political adviser, I was saddled with, that was my job, the job definition of that transition from an incumbent who has served out two terms to the successor who was coming in, the management of the elections, etc. It was a big responsibility, but like I said, calling me political adviser since 2002 will not be far from being correct. It gave me an opportunity right from 2002 till now, the theories of political science that we were taught in universities to put them into practice; to apply them in real-life situations. It was quite exciting. I mean giving intellectual leadership to the campaign of the presidential elections of 2003 and 2007. It was quite exciting, fascinating. It was what I had always hoped for when we were in university.

Were there times you had to say it as it is to the president?
Oh yes! That’s why he liked me, although well, I also got on his nerves. But, I think he valued my opinion. He was a father figure. I relate to him very simply and honestly, as I do with every other person, maybe because of my own background, the Ekiti background: I will tell you things straight, as it is. Also, because of his own unpretentious personality, it was easy to get along with him. I related with him much like a father figure than a boss, like a confidant.

There must be moments you and President Obasanjo disagreed. Can you tell us about that?
There was one instance concerning Fayose, the former Ekiti governor. When he was contesting to become the governor of Ekiti in 2003, he was in PDP and was going to the primaries. He had a quite controversial background. Almost all the leaders of the party were against his becoming the party’s candidate in the first instance. But, he was quite popular at the local level. I went back to Ekiti. I looked for him. ‘This is what they are saying about you, that you didn’t go to school, you forged your NYSC certificate’, and then he showed me everything. I saw it. But, you know, the president just didn’t really want him. So, we were together; we were having dinner, about five of us with the president. The issue came up as a topic, and then, as usual, people were condemning (Fayose). I said, ‘look, sir, I don’t think what people are saying about him is correct’. So he was very angry. He said, ‘You this stupid boy, you are always supporting criminals’. There have been quite other occasions, including the case of Nasir El-Rufai. We wanted him, those of us in the kitchen cabinet, to succeed President Obasanjo. But apparently, that was not his choice. We were not clear about it, and nobody wanted to go and tell him that. I was the one who went to tell him that this was our candidate—he (Obasanjo) blew up.

Will you say today’s generation of young Nigerians is disadvantaged compared to yours?
Of course. Nigeria is in an era of dysfunctional decline, and it gets worse. When we were in primary school and secondary school, the quality of education in Nigeria was almost more competitive than the average education you will receive in England or elsewhere. Then, we believed they were those who could not cope with the competitiveness of education in Nigeria that went abroad to go to school. When I finished secondary school, for instance, I had Grade 1 in O’level. My mother wanted me to go and do A-levels in England, and I thought that was an insult. That was meant for people who couldn’t cope here, I mean, so to say. That was the kind of education that we had.

Look, the Awolowo myth directly resulted from his educational policy, the transformative educational policy he instituted, especially universal primary education or something like that. That was the bedrock for whatever advantage or whatever higher grading that Yorubas had in terms of education. That was what transformed, basically transformed, the Yoruba society. Education was now not limited to the children of the elite. It was universalised to pull up the masses. The impact was transformative. I mean critical thinking, confidence, social and economic development. We could easily project that if the Western Region of pre- and post-independence First Republic had remained intact on this trajectory, that projection would rival Brazil today. Now, I’m not talking abstractly.

The UCH (University College Hospital) in Ibadan in 1970 was rated the fourth-best teaching university in the Commonwealth. The Saudi royal family came for treatment there at that time. You can judge from the level of the industrialisation drive and things like that. Nigeria had in the Western Region a TV station that predated the same development in Japan, for instance. The best of the best went to the universities in Nigeria and not abroad. In contemporary contrasting disposition towards education, there was the case of a lady recently who went to Obafemi Awolowo University. She had the best result in the faculty of medicine. I think maybe she had nine distinctions. She is the niece of Akinwumi Adesina, and the only thing we read about what anybody did for her was that the Ogun government gave her N5 million as a price. That kind of person in England or America, the government and the universities will be looking for her, competing for her.

Here in Nigeria, nobody cares. I would have expected that the university would say ‘no, please stay here, give her a scholarship, give her whatever she needs. So this is how you measure dysfunctional society and functional one. This is a very depressing side of growing up and living in Nigeria today. It is wasting peoples lives. Let me say six or seven years of people’s lives are practically wasted. It’s from one crisis to another. There’s some kind of comprehensive breakdown of society, security crisis all over the place. You cannot travel. You have bandits going to secondary school to abduct children. You have an unimaginable breakdown of law and order. So lives are wasted. How can you be productive? How can anyone be productive in this kind of environment?

Where do you see yourself in the next 60 years?
I’m 60, but I don’t feel any physically different from when I was 40. So it appears the ageing process has universally improved. People tend to retain their vitality for much longer than before and are much more conscious of their health status. This is a global situation. I benefit from that. I won’t be surprised if I live to be 100 years. This is the new normal. So my experience is that anyone who sees me, I notice it myself, many people say, you don’t look 60. You don’t look more than 50 or 40 or whatever.