Notwithstanding the June 11 court order to stop the election taking place, the National Electoral Commission (NEC) insisted on holding it, citing Decree 13 which insulates the commiss io n from court interference. The Punch on its front page story of Saturday June 12, 1993, under the headline: ‘Despite Ikpeme: Nigerians vote today’, reported that the Chairman of the electoral commission, Professor Humphrey Nwosu had told a press conference the previous night:
By the virtue of section 19 (1) of Decree No 13 of 1993, the said order of the Honourable Court shall have no effect on the day or time of the holding of the presidential election coming up tomorrow. The election will therefore go as scheduled (The Punch, Saturday June 12, 1993 p. 1).
‘Despite Ikpeme: Nigerians vote today’ projects a ‘defiant regime’ holding its own as the executive branch of Government, not under the apron string of the judiciary, thus, fulfilling its obligation to the public. An appointee of the president reporting directly to the president, the chairman might be seen by the public as demonstrating courage to press ahead. This firm hand again contributes to subduing public anger. However at the same time, the negative predicate ‘despite Ikpeme’, reminds the public of a court order, but fails to alert readers that going ahead with the election ‘despite’ the order could create more problems. Given this was also not addressed in the news story, the public were provided with no means of understanding the significance of going ahead with the election. This was arguably an abdication of press responsibility19. The Punch was again shielding the regime from public anger. To make the point more clearly, a headline such as: ‘Danger! NEC to hold election despite court order’ or ‘NEC violates court order, to hold election’ might have helped trigger a debate influencing the electoral body to stop the election, lodge an Appeal with subsequent court intervent io n. Belatedly the NEC did act in this way but the military stalled the process.
19 This was shortly evident (June 16) when another court null ified the election on the basis that the election was
In a variety of ways then, the press covered up for the regime with half-truths and sometimes outright concealment of the real situation. The use of the passive voice or of nominalizat io n, as Van Dijk observes, is the way through which the newspapers ‘conceal responsibilit y’. ‘Playing down an event by referring to the event in a lower (less prominent) embedded clause or conversely by putting it in first position when the event needs extra prominence, is a syntactic style of implicitness or indirectness’ (Van Dijk 1991, p. 188 ). As Roger Fowler also suggests, since ‘people are not in general trained to see through the veils of media representation’ (Fowler 1991, p. 12), it means readers are unsure of what position to take. According to Oyediran and Agbaje, the election was held amidst a ‘peaceful atmosphere’ (Oyediran and Agbaje 1999, p.157), and by June 15, 1993 results from sixteen States and the Federal Capital, Abuja, were released, showing MKO of SDP had won in thirteen States and the Federal Capital, with Tofa of NRC winning in three States (The Punch Tuesday 15 June, 1993 p. 1). However, the following day another mine was thrown onto the path of the transitio n programme: a second court injunction suspended further announcement of the results. The front page of The Punch’s edition that day (Wednesday 16, 1993) was full of election reports. But my focus is on two prominent news stories. The first, ‘Another Abuja Court stops NEC…from announcing results’ and ‘NEC studies order’ (i.e. the electoral commission weighs its options). A similar story was also carried by the Nigerian Tribune: ‘Court stops election results’. Both papers reported that an Abuja High Court presided over by the Chief Judge of the Federal Capital City, Justice M.D. Saleh, granted an ex-parte motion brought by ABN to halt further announcement of the election pending the full hearing of the initial case instituted to stop the election.
This decision by the electoral commission, which earlier disobeyed a court, established for the first time that trouble was indeed brewing. In its Thursday June 17, 1993 edition on the front page, under a big banner, The Punch reported: ‘Presidential Polls, NEC suspends election’. As earlier, aside quoting the Court order and the decision of the NEC to ‘study’ the order and suspend further announcement of the election, the paper did not reveal any connection between the regime and the ABN; and there was no indication that the paper asked the NEC boss why he was now deferring to the court. No critical editorial or cartoon appeared either. This lull was perhaps further continuation of the press’s ‘abiding faith’ under the ‘terms’ of its cooperation with the regime.
Yet, confirmation that the press was aware of events behind the scenes was manifest in a compelling front page news story also in Thursday June 17, 1993 edition headlined: ‘Nwosu offered to resign?’ Quoting a foreign news agency, AFP (Agency France Press) it reported that the electoral commission boss had offered to resign, but Babangida refused his resignation. The paper further disclosed that efforts by its reporter the previous day to reach the professor or any of the Commission’s staff to confirm the story failed. By hiding behind a foreign news agency to break this news, the paper again did not take direct responsibility for reporting what was increasingly becoming public knowledge: the regime was behind the plots. By quoting a foreign news agency on the tension between Babangida and the NEC boss, the paper indirect ly informs its readers of the link between the regime and the electoral crisis, but without incurr ing the anger of the regime. This mode is what Van Dijk referred to as a ‘strategy of journalistic distancing’ (Van Dijk 1991, p. 152) allowing journalists to make a point but preserve vested interests.
Still, in spite of this ‘distancing’, some observers, including Bayo Oloyede, believed the press was still performing its liberal role. He suggests that the situation could have been worse ‘but for the traditional resoluteness, great courage and defiance of a large section of the press, particularly the private news media and their journalists who insisted that the truth must be published’ (Oloyede 2004, p. 153). However, this frame of ‘courage and defiance’ seems misplaced given the cautious coverage by the private titles The Punch and the Nigerian Tribune where ‘resoluteness’ is absent. For Ayo Olukotun it was The Guardian and National Concord at the frontline of private media opposing the regime, though he shows how during this crisis
The Guardian admits in an editorial headed ‘In bad faith’ that the press ‘bent backwards to
accommodate the Babangida regime’ (Olukotun 2002, p. 89) which orchestrated the crisis. Enjoying a beneficial relationship with the regime during this period, they were unable to break ranks. The result was a failure to critically appraise the political situation in the public interest.
The Gathering Storm: The Annulment of the Election
From this moment on, tension flared as civil society organisations rose to challenge the establishment. Meanwhile, the electoral commission was still trying to get the High Court orders withdrawn through the Court of Appeal so that the election results could be released. However, in a move that seemed to pre-empt the Court of Appeal’s intervention, the regime
announced the annulment of the presidential elections and all matters pertaining to it. Bizarre ly, the release announcing the annulment – ‘on a plain paper, unsigned and without a title’ (The
Punch, Thursday June 24, 1993) – was distributed to State House Correspondents by the Chief
Press Secretary to the Vice President Augustus Aikhomu, Mr. Nduka Irabor, The Guardian staff member previously jailed by the Buhari. The release clearly put an end to the transitio n programme by suspending all court proceedings as well as repealing the Decree in which the transition processes were anchored. Ironically, the election which united Nigerians on June 12, 1993 had, by June 23, 1993 when it was annulled, became the source of divisions amongst Nigerians (Kwarteng 1996, pp. 190, 194).
As people poured onto the streets, in spite of troops deployment, the press responded to the pressure and from June 15 and through July and August, critical stories against the annulme nt emerged. These stories expressed the angry reactions of notable rights activists and pro- democracy campaigners, as well as critical reactions from the international community. Front page headlines included: ‘Voters oppose fresh polls’ (Sunday Tribune, July 4, 1993, p. 1); ‘IBB disgraces the Army, Danjuma’ (a former chief of Army staff berating Babangida for the annulment) (Sunday Tribune, July 4, 1993, p. 1); ‘Soyinka backs sanctions’ (Wole Soyinka backing the proposed sanctions by certain countries) (Friday August 6, 1993, p. 1) and ‘MKO meets US VP’ (Abiola meeting US vice president during his global tour) (Wednesday August 11, 1993, p. 1). There were similar headlines in The Punch: ‘Soyinka, Solarin spit fire’ (Soyinka and another notable figure heaping pressure on the military) (Sunday Punch June 20, 1993, p. 1); ‘Britain restates calls for release of polls result’ (Tuesday June 22, p. 1); ‘EC may impose sanctions on Nigeria20’ (Saturday June 26, p. 1) and ‘US recalls her citizens from Nigeria’ (Monday June 28, p. 1). In this context of critical press coverage and mass demonstrations, the military lashed out arresting and detaining campaigners and journalis ts, proscribing media houses (illegally, without court warrants). In turn these measures led to ‘guerrilla’, ‘suicide’ or ‘underground’ journalism and media ‘terrorism’ — a journalistic moment when proscribed media began operating underground and printing outside their premises in order to remain in circulation and keep the heat on the military dictatorship (Oyediran and Agbaje 1999, p. 119, Olukotun 2002, p. 132).
According to Olukotun, this underground phenomenon was made possible by the civil populace, who had pressured the press to break its allegiance with the regime, and who
provided logistic support to the hiding journalists (Olukotun 2002). Interestingly, disenchanted members of the security apparatuses sympathetic to the popular cause also shielded the underground press and passed on information of impending operations to journalis ts (Adebanwi 2011). In the midst of violent demonstrations, the regime made further efforts, ostensibly to placate the situation, by announcing a new presidential election (without Abiola and Tofa) and a promise to step down from power on August 27, 1993. However, campaigne rs rejected all proposals and demanded a revalidation of the annulled election results. During this period, the press’s coverage was more critical and an alliance formed between civil society and the press, but it did not wholly adopt an oppositional voice, an indication perhaps, that the press was still cautious in dealing with the regime. This tempering of criticism is evident even in cartoons.
In one example from The Punch (Fig 15), the man refuses his dinner, telling the wife his ‘hunger strike continues until Professor Nwosu announces the winner of the June 12 election’. In the Nigerian Tribune (Fig 16), a father and child exchange views on the concept of power transfer in the developed and the developing nations. The conversation goes thus:
FATHER – IN DEVELOPED COUNTRIES, THERE’S A PEACEFUL TRANSFER OF POWER