Developed Countries in the 1980s! Many Africans see this double standard, and ask whether the
policies of the eighties and nineties were intentionally designed to further impoverish them and their
nations! Some have even implied that racism was at work when these policies were designed, but the
'shock therapy' reforms in Russia, arising from the advice of then Harvard (now Columbia) professor
Jeffrey Sachs, gives the lie to all these racist conspiracy theories. I think the IMF just did not know
better then, and hopefully, has since learnt a few lessons regarding its own infallibility.
Meeting Obasanjo, for the first time
The first time I met President Obasanjo, in the aftermath of the 1999 elections, hardly left the
impression that we were destined to develop a working professional relationship, or that we would
come to know each other as well as we have, or even that he would ever want anything to do with me.
Quite the opposite appeared to be the case, in fact.
The setting was a briefing on the state of Nigeria’s relations with the multilateral institutions in April
1999. As he was the president-elect, PIMCO was directed to brief him on what economic policy
directions we had been working on and the vital components of the transition that should be expected.
I was assigned by PIMCO chair Ibrahim Aliyu to lead this briefing, along with Amah Iwuagwu. The
country director of the World Bank and the head of the IMF team from Washington, and their staff
accompanied us, while Obasanjo was with Atiku Abubakar, numerous aides, staff and future cabinet
ministers that I cannot now recall.
Obasanjo had once been head of state, so we knew a bit about him and I had read a lot about him as
well. He was known for his sense of humour, but not necessarily as someone that came across at first
blush, as clever, witty or intelligent. All of the Obasanjo jokes then were about how much of a
bumpkin he was thought to be. But at that first face-to-face meeting, I was quite impressed with him.
He came across as a smart and well-informed person and it was clear that he picked up new concepts
and absorbed information quickly. However, I was a little disappointed in one respect: he seemed to
be firmly rooted in the past. He thought Nigeria was exactly where he left it in 1979. When we
explained to him that we had executed a staff-monitored programme with the IMF which committed
the incoming administration to privatization of public enterprises, reform of the public service and
overhaul of the federal procurement system, he stopped us right on our tracks.
“I am not going to do any privatization. Military rule destroyed all these public institutions by putting
some bad people in charge. My government will fix these problems; I will make sure the parastatals
work efficiently by appointing the right people to run all the public institutions.” he said.
As I think the ensuing years have shown us, Obasanjo entered the first term of his second presidency
with a pair of 20-year old blinders on his eyes. He felt that the post-Obasanjo civilian and military
regimes were solely responsible for the malfunctioning of public utilities and the dysfunction in the
civil service. This was not entirely inaccurate, but not the whole story. Intuitively, Obasanjo’s gut
feeling informed by his background, age and previous experiences is that only the government could
be fair to everyone. He therefore wanted a significant government presence in economic activities as
it had during his first outing as head of state in the mid-to-late 1970s. That first time, he actually
doubled the role of the government and public enterprises in the economy from about 22 per cent of
GDP[26] to 44 per cent within three years of taking charge.
During that April 1999 briefing, he very clearly failed to realize that in the twenty intervening years
the civil service had become totally dysfunctional and public utilities were not working at all. The
attitude that he could fix them all and that no privatization or public sector reform would be needed
was in my view a very simplistic approach to a very complex problem. I told him so very politely,
which started an argument that left everyone’s jaws on the floor, because nobody argued with General
Obasanjo then. He came into the presidency with this high profile: a war hero and former general that
signed the instrument of surrender of the Nigerian civil war, the only military head of state then to
voluntarily hand over power in Nigeria. Nobody argued with him. Even my boss, General
Abdulsalami, deferred to him because Obasanjo was a senior colonel at the time he joined the armed
forces in 1969. This technically made Obasanjo his ‘ex-boss’ and he referred to him as such.
Everyone deferred to Obasanjo and here I was openly disagreeing with him. He did not appear
pleased with that.
That was the first time I met this African big man, and I honestly thought it would be my last time.
When I was arguing with him, everybody just froze out of shock. We moved on to other topics, and
then towards the end of the briefing, we began discussing the accomplishments of the Petroleum
(Special) Trust Fund (PTF). The PTF was headed by General Muhammadu Buhari and was set up to
fund the construction and maintenance of roads, water works, schools, hospitals and social
infrastructure in the country directly from the proceeds of increase in the prices of petroleum
products. Obasanjo again took the opportunity to give us a preview of his intentions.
“It (the PTF) is unconstitutional and as soon as the constitution takes effect, I am winding that up. We
will not have any organization existing as a parallel government.” My response was an immediate,
knee-jerk reaction to what I thought was another misconception.
“General Sir, I suggest that you should not wind up the PTF immediately, but should align its funding
and operations with the constitution and democratic government.” I replied. “What you said is true, its
funding would be unconstitutional in a few weeks, but it is the only government agency doing any
meaningful infrastructure and capital projects in the country.”
“No – no. I don’t think so. We will fix these other agencies to work too” he said.
He plainly thought he was a magician who could snap his fingers and make things work. I was afraid
that things were not going to work quite the way he thought.
“Sir, this is the only agency re-building roads, fixing schools, water works and hospitals in the
country. You should re-consider the decision to abruptly wind it up,” I insisted. “Delay that action
until you re-build the implementation capacity of the line ministries while slowing down the scope of
activities of the fund.”
“No, young man, I will not, and I know what I am talking about.”
Again everybody froze. So, in a single 45-minute meeting, I argued with Obasanjo twice, and our
debating took up nearly one third of the time. In a post-meeting attempt at damage control, I called
Ibrahim Aliyu and General Abdulsalami Abubakar immediately after the meeting to report myself,
and told them that I just disagreed and argued with Abdulsalami’s boss - twice. Ibrahim Aliyu was
unconcerned since he knew me better, but Abdulsalami was initially alarmed. When I explained the
full discussion, he said, “Well I think you are right but Obasanjo does not like being argued with.”
With better understanding of Obasanjo in subsequent yea
rs, I realized that many people got that wrong
about him - the Obasanjo I came to know loved being argued with, providing your contrary positions
are driven by logic and objectivity rather than any hint of some narrow self-interest! In cabinet
meetings between 2003 and 2007, Oby Ezekwesili and I disagreed and argued with Obasanjo on
several occasions, and he loved us for it! The proof was that we served out our tenures while other
more timorous souls got booted out!
I do not know if my confrontation with Obasanjo was courage as much as it was mostly just honesty. I
believed that wrong decisions would be taken that could adversely affect the welfare of millions
based on incorrect assumptions about the realities of the country. I was convinced I was right and he
was wrong and that when he took over he would realize this about both privatization and the PTF. It
was clear to me that Obasanjo was living in the past, and a lot had happened (and changed) since
1979 that he had been unable to appreciate. I was set in the view that I was right and had no difficulty
at all voicing my opinions. Regardless of the consequences, I was sure Obasanjo would never want to
see my face again but thought someone needed to tell him what I said to him. I was therefore caught
completely off-guard a few days later when a friend of my brother Bashir’s called me on behalf of the
president-elect.
“General Obasanjo wants to see you.”
“Really? What about?” I asked.
“Well, he was asking people around him who knows how to get hold of you. ‘Does anyone
know that light skinned Fulani boy, the small Fulani boy?’ This is what he was asking everyone. I
said I could get you.”
He could not even remember my name, he just remembered me as the small light skinned Fulani boy.
This friend of my brother’s, Captain Shehu Iyal, told him that I was like a kid brother to him. I met
with Obasanjo in his hotel suite then - room 546 at the Abuja Hilton, late in April 1999.When I
entered his suite, he was wearing nothing except the hotel bathrobe – almost completely naked. He
had just that dressing gown, with nothing under. I learned much later that he deliberately worked at
giving people the impression that he was a bushman, but it was all just a disarming or provocative
act. In any event, that day in his hotel room, the second time I met Obasanjo, he told me he was
impressed by my arguments and grasp of the facts even though we differed ideologically and he
disagreed with my suggestions.
“You know young man, I like you. You are a very clever man. I want you to work with me when I
take over.”
I was somewhat surprised to hear that and he went on to explain why.
“When I was military head of state, I had a group of five or six people who were young, sharp,
dedicated and honest and I used them as sounding board of every major policy position that got to my
desk. [27] Whenever I have a key policy decision to take, I handed the problem to them to debate and
then they would come back to me with options, their conclusions and recommendations. They are all
old now - some are deceased, but I will need a group like that to help me when I take over as
president. So I am going to look for you then.”
“Well thank you very much sir,” I said. “It would be a pleasure to work with you, but I
would like a real job.”
“What do you mean, ‘real job’? Working with me is not a real job?”
“Not an advisory job. I do not want to be advising people, even presidents, Sir – I have done
it all my life. I want something that will enable me to put advice into practice.”
“Ok, well you will have that too, it can be interesting. When I take over, I will look for you, I
will find you.” I thought that would be the end of it.
Some weeks later, Steven Oronsaye (who was still at the finance ministry then, but in regular touch
with Obasanjo), asked me to come to Abuja to meet with Obasanjo[28]. Obasanjo informed me of his
intention to proceed with winding up the Petroleum (Special) Trust Fund and suggested that I should
join Dr. Haroun Adamu to work on that assignment. I declined politely, explaining that I did not
believe it was the best decision in the circumstances, and did not meet my expectations of a real job
and a ‘positive contribution’. President Obasanjo was not very pleased with that response and
threatened to announce my name as part of the PTF winding-up team. In the end he relented and let me
off the hook. I left for Kaduna the following day.
Early in July, Steve called again on behalf of the president. Again, I went to Abuja to meet with
Obasanjo, who informed me that he had decided to proceed with implementing the privatization and
commercialization programme, but cautiously and in a phased manner. We debated phasing and came
up with three implementation stages. Steve and I then drafted letters of instruction for the inauguration
of the privatization council to be headed by Vice-President Atiku Abubakar, and handed them in the
next day.
A month later, President Obasanjo invited me again to the state house and asked whether I would like
to be his Special Assistant on Budget Matters. I respectfully reminded him that I would prefer a real
job - an executive position with responsibility instead of an advisory or assistantship role. As a
construction consultant for many years, I advised people on how to spend their money and in PIMCO
I was part of a team advising the head of state on economic and political programmes. I was all too
familiar with the limitations of being an adviser. An adviser gives advice that may be accepted or
rejected, but I do not believe that one gets things done by being an advisor or being an assistant at 39
years of age. I wanted the opportunity to get things done, to get my hands dirty, which is why I
preferred an executive position. In any event, I thought that an assistant to the president on budget
matters would put me squarely in the firing line between two senior cabinet members – the minister of
finance, Adamu Ciroma, and the Chief Economic Adviser, Philip Asiodu, both struggling at the time
for control of economic policy and the budget in the new dispensation. I was not sure that was the
best place to be.
In the end I ended up joining the Obasanjo administration at the end of 1999 as the director-general of
the Bureau of Public Enterprises, more commonly known as the BPE. In retrospect, it is hard for me
to discuss how this happened without acknowledging the role that Vice-President Atiku Abubakar
played in this – yet another in the series of accidents.
Earlier in 1999 and immediately after the briefing of the in-coming administration, I took time off to
the UK to attempt my LL.B. final part II exams at the University of London. While I was in London
preparing, Amah Iwuagwu contacted me to consider presenting a paper on the proposed privatization
programme at a seminar on Nigeria. I reluctantly agreed, knowing this might mean deferring my exams
to another future date, which I did not realize at the time, would be resumed some nine years later. As
it happened, General Abdulsalami Abubakar had signed the enabling law for the privatization
programme the day before I presented my paper in London – on May 4, 1999[29]. Vice President-
elect Atiku Abubakar was in the audience and he learnt for the first time during my presentation that
he
would be the chairman of the National Council on Privatization in a few weeks. He approached me
after the seminar introducing his aide, Abdullahi Nyako, and asked for a copy of the paper I had
presented.
In short, the presentation in London not only announced the enactment of the privatization decree, but
argued that the enabling law that General Abdulsalami had signed made the implementation
framework and the BPE itself more robust. As the programme called for the vice-president to lead the
privatization effort and considering that the vice-president-elect first learned of this from my
presentation, he naturally recalled my presentation when the Obasanjo administration finally took
office, and recommended that the president should appoint me to be the director general of the
implementation agency – the BPE. I had by then renewed my employment contract with Motorola as
business development manager in Africa with Bashir’s Intercellular Nigeria Ltd., as its first
customer. I was in Chicago when Dr. Usman Bugaje, then political adviser to Atiku Abubakar, called
to inform me that the Vice President wished to see me as soon as possible. I wondered why since I
had had no contact with the VP since the conference in London six months earlier. Usman confided
that Atiku wanted me to head the BPE but required my consent before obtaining the final approval of
the President. I thanked Usman and promised that I would think about it and then consult my family
members and friends prior to returning to meet with Atiku.
It was fortuitous that I was in Chicago with two of my mentors – Mallam Ibrahim Aliyu and my
brother Bashir to assist me in coming to a decision. Both agreed this was a great opportunity to make
a real difference in our nation’s political and economic landscape. Furthermore, it was not an
advisory position, but an executive position, which is what I had always wanted. A few months
The Accidental Public Servant Page 15
