M ore than three decades after annulling Nigeria’s freest election, former military ruler Ibrahim Babangida (IBB) has finally admitted that MKO Abiola won the June 12, 1993, presidential race. At the launch of his autobiography, A Journey in Service, in Abuja, Babangida expressed regret, calling the annulment an “accident of history.” But the long-awaited confession has ignited a firestorm, with reactions ranging from cautious approval to outright condemnation. Critics dismiss it as a hollow apology that does little to heal a national wound still festering.
Babangida, once labeled the “evil genius,” acknowledged that Abiola, the Social Democratic Party (SDP) candidate, secured 8.1 million votes against Bashir Tofa’s 5.8 million—meeting all constitutional requirements, including a broad geographic spread. “There was no doubt MKO Abiola won,” he wrote, reversing his previous claim that the election results were questionable. Yet, he justified the annulment, insisting that “formidable forces” would have eliminated Abiola had he taken office. His argument? The decision, though painful, supposedly spared Nigeria from greater chaos. History, however, tells a different story—his move plunged the country into mass protests, repression, and the brutal dictatorship of Sani Abacha.
The Abuja book launch was a high-profile affair attended by President Bola Tinubu, former leaders Yakubu Gowon and Goodluck Jonathan, and billionaire moguls Aliko Dangote and Abdulsamad Rabiu—who donated N8 billion and N5 billion, respectively, toward IBB’s presidential library. Tinubu praised Babangida’s “bold leadership,” promising to emulate his tough decision-making. Gowon thanked him for restoring his rank after a 1976 coup, while Jonathan called him “charismatic.” Former Vice President Yemi Osinbajo, reviewing the book, quoted IBB’s words on June 12: “The most challenging moment of my life—one I’d handle differently today.”
But the accolades didn’t last. Yoruba socio-political group Afenifere dismissed Babangida’s apology as “too little, too late.” Organizing Secretary Kole Omololu blasted the confession as a weak attempt to whitewash a betrayal that led to assassinations (Kudirat Abiola, Alfred Rewane), persecution (Abraham Adesanya), and widespread bloodshed. “His remorse doesn’t bring back the dead or erase decades of suffering,” Omololu fumed, demanding that Abiola’s name be officially recognized as a President-elect and his family compensated. Ayo Opadokun of NADECO, who was jailed for resisting the annulment, was equally unimpressed. “We always knew Abiola won. What we want is the real reason Babangida nullified the election,” he said.
Yet, some voices struck a conciliatory tone. The Coalition of Northern Groups praised IBB’s “courage” in admitting the truth, with spokesman Jamilu Charanchi calling him a “patriotic leader” who acted in the nation’s best interest. Former Plateau State Governor Jonah Jang urged Nigerians to move forward: “This confession can help close old wounds.” Prominent lawyers Mike Ozekhome and Wahab Shittu commended Babangida’s honesty, advocating for forgiveness and compensation for Abiola’s family. Ozekhome, recalling his days as a young protester in Lagos, said he personally forgives IBB. Former Ogun State Governor Segun Osoba took a lighter jab: “Abiola must be laughing in heaven.”
The consequences of the annulment remain staggering—nationwide riots, Babangida’s forced resignation in 1993, Abiola’s 1994 arrest after declaring himself president, and his suspicious death in 1998 while still in detention. Kudirat Abiola’s assassination further cemented the period as one of Nigeria’s darkest. While Babangida insists the annulment served a “supreme national interest,” his book’s claim that Abacha’s camp blindsided him with the decision raises eyebrows. Meanwhile, the Abiola family has yet to respond, with calls to Hafsat Abiola and other relatives going unanswered.
With Nigeria’s democracy still shaky and military coups making a resurgence in West Africa—former Ghanaian President Nana Akufo-Addo warned of this at the book launch—Babangida’s mea culpa lands like an apology at a funeral: too late to undo the damage. As Ozekhome put it, “To err is human, to forgive divine.” But for many, words mean little without justice. Will Babangida’s confession lead to true reconciliation, or is it just another chapter in Nigeria’s long history of unaccountability?
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