Reporting News and opinions
There is an old British habit that refuses to die. When the public finances look awkward, someone reaches for the national costume box, pulls out the Union Jack, and declares that the only patriotic course is to ask the people with the least to tighten their belts a little more. The word of the hour is always “austerity.” The justification is always necessity. The result is almost always the same.
Nigeria is once again standing at a constitutional crossroads. The growing insecurity across the federation, from banditry in the North-West, secessionist violence in the South-East, kidnapping in the South-South, farmer-herder clashes in the Middle Belt, and urban criminality in Lagos and Abuja, has pushed the debate over state police from intellectual seminars into the centre of national survival.
When a political movement cannot quite explain where Britain should go, it apparently finds comfort in explaining where Britain used to be.
There is a peculiar brand of honesty that only slips out when an official forgets to read the democratic script. Usually, freshly inaugurated politicians feel obliged to rehearse the standard civic pieties muttering something about service delivery, the rule of law, or the sovereign will of the people. But every once in a while, the system produces a moment of pure, unvarnished clarity.
It has no postcode. It does not appear on Google Maps. There are no street signs pointing towards it. Yet, whenever one of its inhabitants is caught saying something outrageous or doing something politically or legally questionable, suddenly we are told that the offending words or conduct belonged there.
