General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida has finally taken his turn to tell his side of history—27 years behind schedule. I was thrilled when I first learned he had written a memoir. I believed we would finally have firsthand information on the seminal moments of his administration, a frank introspection by the man who once held Nigeria’s fate in his hands. But I could not have been more wrong. Rather than honesty, I discovered revisionism. Rather than owning, I discovered excuses. It is profoundly disappointing that at this stage in his life, after all these years of silence, he decided to give such a skewed account of things. It is with so much pain that I took to my keyboard to type this opinion. It is truly painful, but absolutely necessary.

In his memoir, A Journey in Service, the former military president attempts to rewrite history. In a stunning turn to many elder statesmen, General Babangida has chosen General Abacha as his scapegoat, laying blame for the disastrous cancellation of the June 12, 1993, election at the doorstep of the conveniently deceased General Sani Abacha merely because the dead do not speak. It is easy to shift one’s culpability to a man who cannot complain. The dead are the safest to blame since they can’t defend themselves against charges of historical revisionism. This is not the first time that history has seen a failed leader’s attempt to deflect blame to a fallen comrade, and it will not be the last. But it will not pass unchallenged.

For nearly three decades, General Babangida left the onus of his deed on his shoulders. Now, in what amounts to little more than a weak attempt at apologia, he claims General Abacha orchestrated the annulment “without his authority.” This is an act of historical pusillanimity, a last-ditch effort to get away with one of Nigeria’s most loathsome political treacheries. And to paraphrase the words of an elder statesman, it is a glaring distortion of the truth; it is not only misleading but also an insult to the collective intellect of those Nigerians who truly lived through all of it and who remember exactly what happened.

Babangida’s new version portrays him as a victim of Abacha’s political maneuvering. He claims to have been in Katsina when the annulment was announced and that it was done against his will. How convenient. This is the same General Babangida who, on June 24, 1993, personally appeared before the public and took responsibility for the decision. He defended the action then, and here he is, 27 years later, attempting to retract what he had uttered and wants us to believe that he did not do it.

If Babangida had nothing to do with the annulment, then why did he not restore Chief MKO’s mandate? Why was he silent when he could overturn the wrong? If he was a mere innocent bystander in General Abacha’s conspiracy, then why did he take so long after Abacha’s death to fabricate these allegations? The answer is straightforward—he never expected history to judge him so harshly.

I am not here to portray General Abacha as a saint; he had his flaws as he was only human. I did not know the general—I was too young to even remember his rule. But history awaits those who seek it out. I have read books, I have watched documentaries, and I have had the privilege to engage in frank discussions regarding this type of history with elders and people who witnessed those times and people who were close to both men. So, as you can imagine, I have heard lots of opinions.

The first time my interest was sparked in knowing who General Abacha really was was when my friend Patrick told me that Abacha was the only president or head of state we ever had who was a nationalist per excellence—that whatever he did was indeed in the interest of the country. That statement made me dig deeper. And while Abacha’s rule was by no means perfect, Babangida’s version is riddled with contradiction and half-truths.

If General Abacha was the main villain of the annulment, then why didn’t Babangida stop him? Why did he resign in August 1993 willingly, handing power to an interim government that was established to fail? The truth is, he lacked the courage to acknowledge his wrongdoing at that time, the same way he lacks it today. History is not about choosing the lesser evil. The truth matters, and General Babangida’s attempt at rewriting it should be faulted for what it is—revisionist garbage.

The truth is that General Babangida had long enough opportunity to set the record straight years ago but instead chose to keep quiet deliberately. Why? Because he knew he would not be able to withstand the weight of his decision. He knew that Nigerians would never forgive him for stealing their democratic transition from them. Instead of taking responsibility for his cowardice, he has opted to pervert history.

I grew up knowing that Gen. Babangida’s regime was a disastrous turning point for Nigeria on so many levels. General Sani Abacha’s regime, despite being dubbed dictatorial by the West and even some Nigerians, bequeathed tangible legacies like notable infrastructural developments under the Petroleum Trust Fund (PTF), where his government heavily invested in healthcare, roads, education, an unparalleled stabilised economy with rising foreign reserves, and uncompromising dispositions towards national security. His government also preserved Nigeria’s territorial integrity by acting decisively in response to internal and external threats. The man pegged the Naira at N80 per dollar, a feat yet to be achieved by any other government to date.

The Babangida era, on the other hand, is typically characterised by corruption (in fact, corruption thrived during his rule), economic instability, and the devastating effects of the Structural Adjustment Program (SAP), which undervalued the naira and plunged millions into poverty.

General Babangida’s claims are the epitome of historical cowardice. His memoir is not an honest record—it is a cowardly, self-serving revision of history calculated to absolve him of culpability. But history will not be so easily revised. The Nigerian people remember the June 12 betrayal, and no level of delayed storytelling will change the fact that General Babangida was its architect.

So, General Babangida, you have conveinently told us who annulled June 12; now would you be bold enough to tell us who killed Dele Giwa?