Dear Govt, the Internet will put you to shame
Culled from The Punch
April 21, 2014 by Tolu Ogunlesi
Two weeks ago, a young Nigerian, Yusuf Onimisi, vanished from Twitter,
days after posting photos he took, with his phone, of soldiers
mobilised in the wake of the attempted jailbreak at the Directorate of
State Security headquarters in Abuja.
Expectedly, the news filtered online in no time. A group of
social-media-savvy persons started a loud campaign alleging that the
DSS was responsible for his disappearance. There were rumours he had
been beaten and possibly even killed. The DSS, thinking this was still
1994, at first refused to comment on the matter. Eventually, in the
face of immense local and international pressure – mostly driven
online – released him.
While it is difficult to justify the wisdom of live-tweeting a
military operation like that (especially when your access is made
possible only by the fact that you work very close to the
highly-sensitive Presidential Villa grounds), it is even more
difficult to justify the decision of the DSS to clandestinely abduct
and detain him for more than two weeks. I shudder to imagine what
might have happened had public outcry not followed, courtesy of the
social media. Would he have "disappeared" the way several Nigerians
disappeared during the Abacha days? Are we running a Gestapo state
here, in 2014?
If there's something Nigeria's governments and law enforcement agents
need to know, it is that things have changed a lot since the days when
Nigeria was enveloped in a dense darkness. Now, the web is lighting up
Nigeria, in its own way. Concealing information used to be the default
position of the authorities. Now, it's not such a smart idea. With the
way the Internet and the social media are showing up spin for what it
is, press statements from the government or the military might as well
start bearing "Official Propaganda" stamps.
Nigerians also appear to be getting used to expecting greater
accountability. The power embedded in mobile phones and all engenders
a welcome giddiness; after decades of repression, we just may be
finding their voices, and casting off the spirit of fear that military
dictatorships embedded into the collective unconscious.
Just last week, the Nigerian military found itself in a most
embarrassing place with the premature announcement that most of the
kidnapped Chibok schoolgirls had been rescued. If that had happened in
the 1990s, it might have ended there. But in 2014, the cries of
hapless parents can be amplified by the social media, so that the CNN
is easily able to pick it up and expose the government's deceitful
ways.
Recall early 2013, when President Goodluck Jonathan was on Christiane
Amapour's show to declare that Nigeria's problems with electricity
were almost over. What the President failed to consider was that at
that same time, multitudes of Nigerians were inundating the CNN with
complaints about electricity. It left Ms. Amanpour puzzled. Who to
believe – the President praising himself or his people insisting
nothing had changed?
The world has changed; period. It's pointless complaining. I'm sure
Jonathan must be envying Olusegun Obasanjo, who ruled in a
pre-Facebook, pre-Twitter age. But we also shouldn't forget that the
President once rode the Facebook wave to his own advantage, before the
fuel subsidy misstep in January 2012. If he took the praise of the
social media, he should also take the pain.
That's not to say there aren't downsides to this social media
business. There's an unbelievable cruelty that Internet anonymity
cultivates; allowing anyone to hide behind a false identity to say
anything without having to prove it. We saw that happen recently when
the Special Assistant to the President on New Media, Reno Omokri, was
implicated in a plot to link Lamido Sanusi to Boko Haram, using fake
online identities. That matter instantly raised the question; if the
government genuinely believes that Sanusi has questions to answer
regarding Boko Haram; why not formally investigate? What are you the
government for if you have to act like terrorists on the Internet?
Pursuing romantic liaisons on the Internet is also fraught with
danger. Over the weekend, a Nigerian newspaper reported the case of
two married Nigerian men lured to their deaths by a man who posed as a
woman on the social networking site, Badoo. It's a tragic story. For
Nigerian men who can't believe how much easier the Internet has made
finding sex, now is probably the best time to exercise some
life-saving caution. It applies to women as well; the case of Cynthia
Osokogu, who in 2012 met death at the hands of two young men she met
on Facebook, is a lesson in restraint.
No doubt, in the age of the social media, the demands on common-sense
are going to intensify.
But it does seem to me that those who will have to face the most
painful adjustment to the new game that is the social media (indeed,
it's not merely new rules; it's a new game altogether) are the
authorities: Governments, public officials, law enforcement agents.
There are two options: You can choose to continue in the current mode
of engagement, keep the spin wheels spinning, resort to mindless
denials, insist on ignoring the fact that things have changed; or you
can choose to reconstruct a new mode of engagement, based on
responsible behaviour, transparency and accountability.
If you decide on the latter, the first thing will be to quit lying,
realising that the Internet imposes considerably higher tariffs on
dishonesty. When the Nigerian military says they've captured 700
vehicles from Boko Haram, or killed 2,000 insurgents in a recent
operation, the world suddenly filled up with Nigerians asking, "Where
are the photos?" "Are they invisible cars?"
When a government official says the government created 1.6 million
jobs in 2013, there are hundreds of thousands of Nigerians who now
have the means to directly kick start a storm, and query the minister
– "show us the jobs." And when the President went on the CNN to say
Nigerians were enjoying unprecedented levels of electricity supply,
remember that that the same CNN was inundated with on-the-ground
reports from the supposed beneficiaries of the phantom electricity.
In my opinion, the easiest way to adapt to the Internet age would be
to strive for higher-quality levels of governance.
In the case of the military, it's time to stop the pathetic
propaganda; everyone can now see through it. Devote the energy to
facing the real task of running a competent counter-terrorism
operation. Ensure that the soldiers fighting in the North-East are
well-fed and well-paid (If a photo that made the rounds recently is to
be believed, Nigerian soldiers on assignment in the North-East are
being fed like refugees). If there are any genuine successes –
militant camps overrun, weapons seized, etc – share them as fact,
without the backslapping edge to your tone.
Police and military convoys should behave responsibly on the roads,
knowing that video records are only a matter of seconds away from
going viral. A President who goes on a partisan partying binge barely
24 hours after a major bomb blast should get ready to see his photos
splashed and mocked everywhere within hours.
For government officials, here's a useful rule of thumb: If you don't
want it getting out, maybe you shouldn't be doing it. With the ease
with which government documents can now be leaked, with or without
FoI, governments should accept that the long walk to transparency may
have finally kicked off.
That's the reality of the world we now live in. It's my hope that the
fear of heightened public scrutiny, courtesy of the Internet, will
inspire our governments to act more, and not less, sensibly.
Follow me on Twitter (@toluogunlesi)
Copyright PUNCH
April 21, 2014 by Tolu Ogunlesi
Two weeks ago, a young Nigerian, Yusuf Onimisi, vanished from Twitter,
days after posting photos he took, with his phone, of soldiers
mobilised in the wake of the attempted jailbreak at the Directorate of
State Security headquarters in Abuja.
Expectedly, the news filtered online in no time. A group of
social-media-savvy persons started a loud campaign alleging that the
DSS was responsible for his disappearance. There were rumours he had
been beaten and possibly even killed. The DSS, thinking this was still
1994, at first refused to comment on the matter. Eventually, in the
face of immense local and international pressure – mostly driven
online – released him.
While it is difficult to justify the wisdom of live-tweeting a
military operation like that (especially when your access is made
possible only by the fact that you work very close to the
highly-sensitive Presidential Villa grounds), it is even more
difficult to justify the decision of the DSS to clandestinely abduct
and detain him for more than two weeks. I shudder to imagine what
might have happened had public outcry not followed, courtesy of the
social media. Would he have "disappeared" the way several Nigerians
disappeared during the Abacha days? Are we running a Gestapo state
here, in 2014?
If there's something Nigeria's governments and law enforcement agents
need to know, it is that things have changed a lot since the days when
Nigeria was enveloped in a dense darkness. Now, the web is lighting up
Nigeria, in its own way. Concealing information used to be the default
position of the authorities. Now, it's not such a smart idea. With the
way the Internet and the social media are showing up spin for what it
is, press statements from the government or the military might as well
start bearing "Official Propaganda" stamps.
Nigerians also appear to be getting used to expecting greater
accountability. The power embedded in mobile phones and all engenders
a welcome giddiness; after decades of repression, we just may be
finding their voices, and casting off the spirit of fear that military
dictatorships embedded into the collective unconscious.
Just last week, the Nigerian military found itself in a most
embarrassing place with the premature announcement that most of the
kidnapped Chibok schoolgirls had been rescued. If that had happened in
the 1990s, it might have ended there. But in 2014, the cries of
hapless parents can be amplified by the social media, so that the CNN
is easily able to pick it up and expose the government's deceitful
ways.
Recall early 2013, when President Goodluck Jonathan was on Christiane
Amapour's show to declare that Nigeria's problems with electricity
were almost over. What the President failed to consider was that at
that same time, multitudes of Nigerians were inundating the CNN with
complaints about electricity. It left Ms. Amanpour puzzled. Who to
believe – the President praising himself or his people insisting
nothing had changed?
The world has changed; period. It's pointless complaining. I'm sure
Jonathan must be envying Olusegun Obasanjo, who ruled in a
pre-Facebook, pre-Twitter age. But we also shouldn't forget that the
President once rode the Facebook wave to his own advantage, before the
fuel subsidy misstep in January 2012. If he took the praise of the
social media, he should also take the pain.
That's not to say there aren't downsides to this social media
business. There's an unbelievable cruelty that Internet anonymity
cultivates; allowing anyone to hide behind a false identity to say
anything without having to prove it. We saw that happen recently when
the Special Assistant to the President on New Media, Reno Omokri, was
implicated in a plot to link Lamido Sanusi to Boko Haram, using fake
online identities. That matter instantly raised the question; if the
government genuinely believes that Sanusi has questions to answer
regarding Boko Haram; why not formally investigate? What are you the
government for if you have to act like terrorists on the Internet?
Pursuing romantic liaisons on the Internet is also fraught with
danger. Over the weekend, a Nigerian newspaper reported the case of
two married Nigerian men lured to their deaths by a man who posed as a
woman on the social networking site, Badoo. It's a tragic story. For
Nigerian men who can't believe how much easier the Internet has made
finding sex, now is probably the best time to exercise some
life-saving caution. It applies to women as well; the case of Cynthia
Osokogu, who in 2012 met death at the hands of two young men she met
on Facebook, is a lesson in restraint.
No doubt, in the age of the social media, the demands on common-sense
are going to intensify.
But it does seem to me that those who will have to face the most
painful adjustment to the new game that is the social media (indeed,
it's not merely new rules; it's a new game altogether) are the
authorities: Governments, public officials, law enforcement agents.
There are two options: You can choose to continue in the current mode
of engagement, keep the spin wheels spinning, resort to mindless
denials, insist on ignoring the fact that things have changed; or you
can choose to reconstruct a new mode of engagement, based on
responsible behaviour, transparency and accountability.
If you decide on the latter, the first thing will be to quit lying,
realising that the Internet imposes considerably higher tariffs on
dishonesty. When the Nigerian military says they've captured 700
vehicles from Boko Haram, or killed 2,000 insurgents in a recent
operation, the world suddenly filled up with Nigerians asking, "Where
are the photos?" "Are they invisible cars?"
When a government official says the government created 1.6 million
jobs in 2013, there are hundreds of thousands of Nigerians who now
have the means to directly kick start a storm, and query the minister
– "show us the jobs." And when the President went on the CNN to say
Nigerians were enjoying unprecedented levels of electricity supply,
remember that that the same CNN was inundated with on-the-ground
reports from the supposed beneficiaries of the phantom electricity.
In my opinion, the easiest way to adapt to the Internet age would be
to strive for higher-quality levels of governance.
In the case of the military, it's time to stop the pathetic
propaganda; everyone can now see through it. Devote the energy to
facing the real task of running a competent counter-terrorism
operation. Ensure that the soldiers fighting in the North-East are
well-fed and well-paid (If a photo that made the rounds recently is to
be believed, Nigerian soldiers on assignment in the North-East are
being fed like refugees). If there are any genuine successes –
militant camps overrun, weapons seized, etc – share them as fact,
without the backslapping edge to your tone.
Police and military convoys should behave responsibly on the roads,
knowing that video records are only a matter of seconds away from
going viral. A President who goes on a partisan partying binge barely
24 hours after a major bomb blast should get ready to see his photos
splashed and mocked everywhere within hours.
For government officials, here's a useful rule of thumb: If you don't
want it getting out, maybe you shouldn't be doing it. With the ease
with which government documents can now be leaked, with or without
FoI, governments should accept that the long walk to transparency may
have finally kicked off.
That's the reality of the world we now live in. It's my hope that the
fear of heightened public scrutiny, courtesy of the Internet, will
inspire our governments to act more, and not less, sensibly.
Follow me on Twitter (@toluogunlesi)
Copyright PUNCH
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