I deeply regret missing the opportunity to engage in the critical discourse surrounding the National Assembly’s vote on President Ahmed Bola Tinubu’s declaration of a State of Emergency and the subsequent suspension pronouncement regarding the crisis in Rivers State on 18 March 2025. This pivotal moment, spurred by the attempted destruction of Nigeria’s vital oil assets in parts of Rivers State—allegedly unchecked by the now-suspended Governor Sim Fubara—deserved thorough deliberation and reflection. My inability to contribute to such a significant conversation leaves me feeling profoundly disheartened.
Prof. Isidore Diala Deputy Vice Chancellor Academics, Imo State University.
For two days I was engrossed in a paper on the decolonisation process—a profoundly poignant chapter of human history that unfolded across Asia and Africa between 1945 and the 1960s. A remarkable research area that reminds me of my supervisor Prof. Isidore Diala. Beyond the twelve European nations that seized colonies through coercion and bloody wars, Japan also pursued imperial ambitions. After forcing Emperor Gojong to abdicate in 1907, Japan formally colonised Korea with the Japan–Korea Treaty of 1910. The Japanese Empire further extended its grip on vast territories in Taiwan and China following the First Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895). The Treaty of Shimonoseki in 1895 led to Taiwan’s cession to Japan, where it remained under colonial rule for 50 years, ending only with the close of World War II in 1945—a half-century of relentless imperial conquest. It seemed that the end of the World War II, the U.S. push for self-determination and the tenacious struggle by pan-nationalists pushed colonialism to the cliff of its eventual obliteration.
Africa was the dust of colonial gust: a European hurricane that swept across the continent until World War II, which brutally ushered in a new era of reflection on the colonial legacy. Twenty-six nations of Africa were colonised, including Morocco (1912), Libya (1911), Swaziland (1902), Burundi (1893), Nri Kingdom (1911), Kingdom of Benin (1897), Ijebu (1892), Rwanda (1894), South Africa (1879), Zanzibar (1503), Algeria (1830) by the French, Tunisia (1881) by the French, and Nigeria (1861) by the British.
To make sense of the anti-imperial zeal that drove the colonialists out of Africa, I revisited the disgust Okonkwo felt toward the White man in Achebe (1958). This imagery captured my imagination: “He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart,” Obierika declares in Things Fall Apart, Chapter 20.
From Betts (1998), Césaire (2000), Ching (2001), Eckert (1991) to Eskildsen (2019), reflections on decolonisation and colonialism point to the unpleasant stench of human ignorance underscored by the imperial gluttony of an empire-driven lunacy.
When I encountered Fanon’s (2004) seminal work The Wretched of the Earth (originally written in 1961),(Les Damnés de la Terre in French), the sound of the music transformed into impatient drums wielding lyrical swords for urgent freedom. Frantz Fanon's tone is profoundly impassioned and confrontational. He addresses colonialism's brutality while advocating for the transformative power of violent resistance. Fanon's literary bravura is unapologetic and direct, challenging readers to confront the uncomfortable truths of imperialism, oppression, and the psychological scars left on the colonised. Unlike Ferguson (2021), Fanon adopts a more dramatic character, influenced by his active participation in the Algerian struggle for independence, which began in 1954 with the formation of the National Liberation Front (Front de Libération Nationale, or FLN).
Like Kiernan (1995), Hogan (2024), and Ferro (1997), Fanon’s tone resonates with empathy for the struggles of the colonised, inspired by Karl Marx’s critique of capitalism and class struggle, Jean-Paul Sartre’s existentialist philosophy on freedom and oppression, and Aimé Césaire’s poetic exploration of black identity and anti-colonial resistance. Césaire, a fellow intellectual from Martinique and a key figure in the Négritude movement, motivated Fanon more profoundly than his counterparts in the Algerian Revolution.
Like Fanon, Walter Rodney’s (1972) seminal work How Europe Underdeveloped Africa interprets colonialism and neocolonialism through a Marxist lens, emphasising the agonising ache of economic exploitation and class struggle that fueled colonial delusion. Europeans sailed to Africa to plunder resources and improve their lives—a pattern reflected today in the objectives of neocolonialism, particularly evident in Nigeria. Obviously, Rodney deconstructed the epistemic violence embedded in the denigrating semantic frameworks used to portray Africans, exposing how language itself became a tool of colonial subjugation.
I then turned to Conrad's renowned novella, Heart of Darkness (1899). A compelling Eurocentric investment on colonialism. To comprehend its denigrating lexis, I reflected on Achebe's critique, which has become one of the most significant and controversial discussions in postcolonial literature. Prof. Chinua Achebe’s 1975 lecture, An Image of Africa: Racism in Conrad's Heart of Darkness, sharply criticises Conrad's portrayal of Africa and Africans. Achebe argues that the novella reduces Africans to mere background elements or "savages," denying them humanity, individuality, and voice. Conrad's depiction of Africans as primitive, irrational, and inferior reinforced racist stereotypes, reflecting the historical moment of neocolonialism and classism seen in Nigeria and many African nations today. Conrad’s dehumanising lexicon and pro-colonialist discourse perpetuated reductive and derogatory representations of Africans, framing them as the ‘other’ within a Eurocentric narrative.
Although Conrad had passed in 1924, many scholars have defended him, arguing that his novella critiques the brutality and hypocrisy of European colonialism, especially through Kurtz, a character embodying imperial greed and moral decay—tragically mirrored in Nigeria’s neocolonialism. Hawkins’ ‘Conrad's Critique of Imperialism in Heart of Darkness’ (1979) defends Conrad, as does Straus in ‘The Exclusion of the Intended from Secret Sharing in Conrad's Heart of Darkness’ (1987), focusing on its critique of gender and imperialism. Patrick Brantlinger’s ‘Rule of Darkness: British Literature and Imperialism’, 1830–1914 (1988) acknowledges the novella's racist elements but argues that Conrad’s work ultimately critiques imperialism. From Cedric Watts, a prominent Conrad scholar, to Edward Said in ‘Culture and Imperialism’ (1993), one recognises the profound impact of Achebe's critique—not solely about Conrad but about the broader Western literary tradition and its perpetuation of colonial ideologies, reflected in postcolonial struggles and contemporary political history today.
Amongst all the nations that underwent decolonisation, China’s experience was the most harrowing and humiliating until the formation of the People’s Republic of China in 1949. Although Japan never fully colonised China, the country experienced significant foreign domination and partial colonisation by multiple imperial powers. A closer examination reveals the following: the foreign domination of China in the 19th and 20th centuries, known as the ‘Century of Humiliation’ (1839–1949), was multifaceted. Britain fought China in the First Opium War (1839–1842) and seized Hong Kong, forcing the colony to open its borders for British expansion. The French joined during the Second Opium War. Germany seized the port of Qingdao in 1897. Russia took part of Manchuria, while Portugal had already established a presence in Macau in the 16th century, maintaining control over it until 1999. The U.S. also contributed to this alarming fragmentation. This is how China was balkanised until its eventual liberation.
I could not spend time on Pius Adesanmi’s grounded work on the subject for the sake of time. Prominent in his collection is You’re Not a Country, Africa: A personal History of the African Present. In the text the award-winning scholar whom I once addressed on Facebook, espoused how Africa’s value has eroded even after the Whiteman had left. The title is from the last stanza of Abioseh Nicol’s poem The Meaning of Africa:
You are not a country, Africa,
You are a concept,
Fashioned in our minds, each to each,
To hide our separate fears,
To dream our separate dreams.
You are a concept,
Fashioned in our minds, each to each,
To hide our separate fears,
To dream our separate dreams.
I couldn’t have forgotten; could I have,
that my own Prof. Isidore Diala’s "The Vision of the Possible: Essays on
Poetry and Decolonization" reframes the role of African poetry in the broader
project of decolonisation and social transformation? Diala’s vast engagements on
Chris Okigbo and Esiaba Irobi emphasise the importance of literature as a tool
for liberation and self-definition, particularly in the context of Africa's
struggle against colonial and neo-colonial domination. With his pedagogic and visionary
craft he challenges colonial narratives, reclaiming cultural identity, while
envisioning a postcolonial future in his works The Lure of Ash (1993), The Pyre (1995), "The
Nigerian Novel in the 21st Century", and “Esiaba Irobi’s Drama and the
Postcolony:Theory and Practice of Postcolonial Performance", a
substantial scholarly work that delves deeply into the plays and theoretical
contributions of Esiaba Irobi, a renowned Nigerian playwright.
What’s marveling and somewhat throbbing is that, as I concluded the paper, I turned to another dialogue on the five nuclear powers in the world. It was for a different academic exercise. I found that, amongst the five nuclear powers, China’s 596 nuclear bomb was detonated on 16 October 1964 (Kristensen et al., 2025). China, a former colony, rose from the ashes of humiliation and decolonisation to become a member of the ‘nuclear league,’ competing favorably with other nuclear powers—the U.S., Russia, Britain, and France—due to its ongoing cultural and intellectual decolonisation, which challenges Western thought and offers vast opportunities for a more global and inclusive context of civilisation.
What a story of resilience and transformation. Mao Zedong’s industrialisation efforts culminated in China’s first nuclear test in 1964, signaling its entry into the elite nuclear club. Post-Mao, Deng Xiaoping’s economic reforms in 1978 marked a pivot toward market-oriented policies, igniting decades of rapid economic growth and technological advancement. By leveraging its massive labour force, attracting foreign investment, and becoming a manufacturing hub, China emerged as the world's second-largest economy and a principal creditor to nations, including the United States, solidifying its role as a global economic powerhouse.
China’s nationalism, in its fluidity, is a startling contrast to Nigeria, one of the nations whose decolonisation story is marred by Eurocentrism, degradation, exploitation, Western manipulation, and persistent neocolonialism. Its current leader, Xi Jinping, who has held power since 2012 as General Secretary of the Communist Party, President of the People's Republic of China, and Chairman of the Central Military Commission, is consolidating China's global influence through initiatives like the Belt and Road Initiative, fostering economic growth, and modernising the military. Under his leadership, China has become a dominant force in international trade and technology. Is China fully intellectually decolonised while it has now engaged in economic strangulation of former British and French colonies via untidy loan deals?
That Nigeria, after the decolonisation project led by Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe (1904–1996), Sir Ahmadu Bello (1910–1966), Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti (1900–1978), Herbert Macaulay (1864–1946)—arguably the father of Nigeria’s nationalism—Anthony Enahoro (1923–2010), Margaret Ekpo (1914–2006), Tafawa Balewa (1912–1966), Aminu Kano (1920–1983), Alimotu Pelewura (1880–1951), Michael Okpara (1920–1984), Akanu Ibiam (1906–1995), Mbonu Ojike (1914–1956), K.O. Mbadiwe (1915–1990), and Chukwuemeka Ojukwu (1933–2011), still does not have stable electricity to power its industrialisation and rapid digital innovation in technology and science leaves humanity in incessant sniveling.
Nigeria, despite earning over $5 trillion in oil revenue since 1956, has faced profound stagnation and retrogression when compared to China's transformative rise. Unlike China's strategic investments in industrialisation, infrastructure, and human capital post-decolonisation, Nigeria’s overreliance on oil has fostered economic vulnerabilities and neglect of other critical sectors. While imperial powers colonised other nations to build their industrial hubs, Nigeria’s neocolonialists enrich themselves and a few stooges through massive re-exploitationary cartels with inconceivable caprices. Corruption, mismanagement, and political instability have plagued Nigeria’s governance, hindering development and equitable distribution of wealth. While China diversified its economy and leveraged its workforce for global manufacturing dominance, Nigeria struggles with poverty, inadequate infrastructure, and limited industrial growth. This paradox of immense wealth amidst widespread underdevelopment underscores systemic failures in translating resource riches into national prosperity.
Could Sim Fubara's suspension by President Tinubu mark the tipping point, igniting a broader movement for Nigeria's de-neocolonisation and a reimagining of its governance? This question invites reflection on the nation's political trajectory and the potential for transformative change, even for a hysterical ‘Renewed Hope Agenda.’
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