Insa Nolte

Ethnic Vigilantes and the State: The Oodua People's Congress in South-Western Nigeria

Based on the example of the Oodua Peoples Congress (OPC) in Nigeria, this article argues that vigilante activities are embedded in a range of social relations and historical trajectories. While vigilantism transforms relationships of power within the state, it does not necessarily undermine all aspects of state authority. After the annulled presidential election of a Yoruba speaker in 1993, the OPC was founded with the explicit political aim of safeguarding Yoruba ethno-nationalist interests vis-à-vis the state. By fighting crime, and state institutions perceived to be implicated in the perpetration of crime, including the police and military, the OPCs vigilantes have undermined and challenged the states security institutions. Representing the state as both weak and strong, the OPC has undermined the states control of security but legitimised and strengthened the state as a mechanism of political decision-making and social reform.

Federalism and Communal Conflict In Nigeria

In a comparative reflection on the success of federalism in multi-communal states, Smith (1995) notes that communal cleavages can be intensified or regulated by federal institutions and practices. Often, conflict is increased by unmediated political differences between the centre and its constituent units and by the application of simple majoritarian principles. This article examines the role of federalism and its relationship to ethnic, religious, political and financial conflict in post-colonial Nigeria. It focuses on the problematic aspects of Nigerian federalism in the context of the historical process of federalization as well as with regard to the country’s social bases and political cultures and the functional dynamics arising from the interaction of these aspects (cf. Watts, 1999). The article concentrates on the role of Nigeria’s federal system since its return to democracy in 1999. It argues that Nigerian federalism in its current form encourages communal conflict because it ignores important minority interests and does not institutionalize power-sharing between the states and the federal level although both levels of government are highly interdependent. The article’s first section describes the regional federalism introduced to Nigeria in 1954, which was too decentralized to prevent ethnic politics, while the second section outlines how Nigerian federalism was reformed in 1967 and has been increasingly centralized. This process was associated with military rule, corruption and the political marginalization of the South. The third section describes the failure of the 1999 constitution to institute a major reform of the federal system and to check the continuing dominance of northern interests at the national level. Although southern and minority interests are vocalized at state level, all state governments remain financially dependent on federal decisions. Section four demonstrates that anticorruption measures and a reduction of federal claims on the national income have improved states’ and local governments’ budgets. As a result of political liberalization and higher funding, political initiative has devolved to the states, which has led to a radicalization of the national debate. The conclusion points out that the current structure of Nigerian federalism incites communal conflict. The acceptance of simple

Obafemi Awolowo and the Making of Remo: The Local Politics of a Nigerian Nationalist

1. Remo and Awolowo 2. The Institutions of Precolonial Remo 3. The Rise of Sagamu 4. Remos Struggle for Independence 5. Nationalist Politics and the Integration of Traditional Politics and Party Rivalry Under Obafemi Awolowo 6. Remo United, Ikenne Divided 7. Ethno-Regional Politics and Popular Rebellion in Remo 8. Self-Reliance, Development and Civic Pride in Remo 9. After Awolowo Conclusion Bibliography.

The Roots of Neopatrimonialism: Opposition Politics and Popular Consent in Southwest Nigeria

The discussion of politics in Africa has been strongly shaped by the work of Richard Joseph, whose 1987 study ofNigeria’s Second Republic (1979–1983) has highlighted the importance of prebendal or neopatrimonial networks based on ethnic and regional solidarity throughout Nigeria. Neopatrimonial politics draw on the survival and adaptation into the modern state of networks based on reciprocity and mutual obligations, often consisting of relationships forged in the precolonial and colonial period, which in turn encourage the use of public office primarily for the benefit of clients and supporters. This process has been widely understood as part of a process of appropriation and assimilation by African elites and their followers in the modern state structures presumably created at independence. Assuming the functioning of the modern state to be based entirely upon rational-legal forms of authority, this process of assimilation has been interpreted as a potential “re-traditionalisation” of the continent (Chabal and Daloz 1999, 45–92) and even a “hollowing out” of the state (Obadare 2007).

From ethnographic knowledge to anthropological intelligence: An anthropologist in the office of strategic services in Second World War Africa

ABSTRACT This article explores the overlapping modalities and practical purposes of anthropological ethnographic knowledge and political–military intelligence gathering – the commonalities as well as the boundaries between them – through an analysis of the career of the anthropologist Jack Sargent Harris (1912–2008), a secret operative for the United States’ Office of Strategic Services during the Second World War in Nigeria and South Africa. Calling upon archival and oral historical sources, the article relates Harris’s training in Boasian cultural anthropology and as a professional ethnographer of African societies and cultures to the ways he recruited informants, conducted surveillance, related to foreign Allied officials, utilized documentary evidence, and worked to establish authority and credibility in his wartime intelligence reporting. The article argues that political purpose is a central artefact of anthropological ethnography as it is in other ethnographic modalities even if the justifications for these endeavours remain distinct.

Nigerian academia and the politics of secrecy

In this issue, Jeremiah Arowosegbe makes a number of valid and important observations about the challenges facing the humanities and social sciences in Nigeria. But while he recognizes the importance of the political sphere by discussing the unequal and asymmetric landscape of global knowledge production, he locates most problems of knowledge production in Nigeria within the academy. Focusing on individual and generational responsibility and morality, Arowosegbe also suggests that recent generations of Nigerian academics have been ‘complacent and nonchalant’ in their engagement with global theoretical and methodological debates, and thus bear responsibility for the apparent decline of Nigerian academia.

Yorùbá Identity and Power Politics (review)

Still, he often refers to modernity, nation and the Church as if the meaning, and largely positive valuation, of these terms were self-evident, to the Englishlanguage reader as well as the Gogo narrators and their intended audiences. But not every inhabitant of Ugogo would hear Kongola’s accounts in the same way as members of his own circle. For most people the promises of the new nation have not materialized; the region continues to suffer from a dire lack of opportunity. In the commercial capital Dar es Salaam, Gogo people are said to be numerous among beggars, itinerant coffee sellers and abattoir workers: marginal, desperate ways of life. Kongola himself details numerous setbacks in his pursuit of economic security in retirement. Against this background, Kongola’s narratives appear to this reader more assertive, political and partisan than Maddox explicates. How would a member of a marginal clan – how would a less favoured member of Kongola’s own clan – hear his accounts? How would a Muslim neighbour? And by means of what nuances, what turns of phrase may Kongola’s narrative implicitly address them? Even if unanswerable, these questions would be worth stating. Social stratification, privilege, regional inequality and religious diversity in Tanzania are issues too salient and important not to be part of Kongola’s universe. Kongola’s mention of Islam as an agent of change equal to Christianity is among a few points that suggest his awareness of them, despite Maddox’s focus on the Church and his inner circle. Maddox weaves into his analysis the dilemma of an oral historian who struggles to explain to people in Ugogo why he keeps coming back to a place many of them would rather leave. Without being fulsome, he makes clear that his reasons are not narrowly professional, but human; that he has gained from his work in Ugogo in more ways than he can explain to his hosts. This unaffected, tangible appreciation for his subject is a particular strength of the book.

Toyin Falola and Ann Genova (eds), Yorùbá Identity and Power Politics. Rochester NY: University of Rochester Press (hb £45.00/

Still, he often refers to modernity, nation and the Church as if the meaning, and largely positive valuation, of these terms were self-evident, to the Englishlanguage reader as well as the Gogo narrators and their intended audiences. But not every inhabitant of Ugogo would hear Kongola’s accounts in the same way as members of his own circle. For most people the promises of the new nation have not materialized; the region continues to suffer from a dire lack of opportunity. In the commercial capital Dar es Salaam, Gogo people are said to be numerous among beggars, itinerant coffee sellers and abattoir workers: marginal, desperate ways of life. Kongola himself details numerous setbacks in his pursuit of economic security in retirement. Against this background, Kongola’s narratives appear to this reader more assertive, political and partisan than Maddox explicates. How would a member of a marginal clan – how would a less favoured member of Kongola’s own clan – hear his accounts? How would a Muslim neighbour? And by means of what nuances, what turns of phrase may Kongola’s narrative implicitly address them? Even if unanswerable, these questions would be worth stating. Social stratification, privilege, regional inequality and religious diversity in Tanzania are issues too salient and important not to be part of Kongola’s universe. Kongola’s mention of Islam as an agent of change equal to Christianity is among a few points that suggest his awareness of them, despite Maddox’s focus on the Church and his inner circle. Maddox weaves into his analysis the dilemma of an oral historian who struggles to explain to people in Ugogo why he keeps coming back to a place many of them would rather leave. Without being fulsome, he makes clear that his reasons are not narrowly professional, but human; that he has gained from his work in Ugogo in more ways than he can explain to his hosts. This unaffected, tangible appreciation for his subject is a particular strength of the book.