No nation survives by suppressing uncomfortable truths—Dr. Anthony Obi Ogbo
More than five decades after the Nigerian Civil War ended in 1970, former Head of State Yakubu Gowon has finally offered his own detailed account of the conflict that permanently reshaped Nigeria. Gowon, who became Nigeria’s leader in 1966 after the counter-coup that followed the assassination of General Aguiyi-Ironsi, presided over the most tragic chapter in the nation’s history—the Biafran War that claimed millions of lives, many of them civilians. Ironically, the same military establishment that elevated him during the crisis later removed him from power in 1975 while he attended an OAU summit in Uganda.
His long-awaited memoir has reopened old wounds and revived unresolved questions about the war, the collapse of the Aburi Accord, and the decades-long collective silence that followed the conflict. The biggest question, however, is this: why now?
Why did Gowon wait more than fifty years after the war to tell his side of the story, especially when nearly all the principal actors are gone? Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu published multiple accounts and speeches in defense of Biafra and in criticism of the federal government’s handling of the crisis. Former military leaders and participants also documented their perspectives over the years. Yet Gowon remained largely silent, rarely challenging many of the dominant narratives surrounding the war and the Aburi negotiations.
Now, at a time when history itself has become a battleground, his memoir appears less like a contribution to reconciliation and more like an attempt to reclaim control of a contested national memory.
One of the most controversial areas remains the Aburi Accord of January 1967, held in Ghana to prevent the collapse of Nigeria. The accord was meant to restructure Nigeria into a looser federation and restore trust between the regions. Historical accounts have long suggested that disagreements over interpretation and implementation led to its collapse. Critics argue that Gowon’s government later diluted key provisions through Decree No. 8, effectively undermining the spirit of the agreement.
Many historians maintain that Gowon, then a relatively inexperienced military ruler, lacked the constitutional depth and political sophistication required to fully grasp the implications of the accord and the forces surrounding him. Whether that criticism was entirely fair or not, the result was catastrophic: the failure of Aburi paved the way for war.
Yet even more troubling about his memoir are the omissions.
Any honest account of the Nigerian Civil War must begin with the massacres of Igbo civilians in Northern Nigeria in 1966. Those killings created fear, mistrust, and mass displacement that ultimately pushed the Eastern Region toward secession. For many Igbo families, the war did not begin with Biafra’s declaration; it began with bloodshed in the North and the inability, or unwillingness, of the federal government to stop it.
Gowon’s narrative blatantly pays insufficient attention to these foundational events, thereby presenting the war in isolation from the atrocities that triggered it. To discuss the war without fully confronting those killings risks presenting an incomplete and morally imbalanced history.
That is why this memoir is generating discomfort in many quarters, particularly among the Igbo. Nigeria is presently witnessing renewed efforts by younger generations to build broader coalitions across ethnic and regional lines. Many Igbo political actors are attempting to move beyond the bitterness of the civil war era and reposition themselves within a more inclusive national conversation ahead of future elections. Against that backdrop, Gowon’s memoir arrives at a deeply sensitive moment.
Rather than healing old divisions, the book risks reviving distrust and reopening unresolved grievances.
Rather than healing old divisions, the book risks reviving distrust and reopening unresolved grievances. To many observers, it feels less like reflection and more like historical revisionism – an attempt to sanitize controversial decisions, soften accountability, and redefine public memory before history reaches its final verdict.
No nation survives by suppressing uncomfortable truths. Nigeria cannot genuinely move forward until it confronts the civil war with honesty, balance, and courage. Gowon had every right to tell his story. But timing matters, omissions matter, and history demands more than selective remembrance.
The Nigerian Civil War was not merely a military conflict. It was a human tragedy built on political failure, ethnic violence, broken agreements, and mutual distrust. Any account that minimizes those realities will always struggle for moral credibility, no matter how many years pass.
♦ Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015) and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us
- Why are World Leaders Visiting China? - May 22, 2026
- Gowon’s Book and the Dangerous Politics of Selective Memory - May 22, 2026
- APC Gubernatorial Primaries: Hamzat Wins To Emerge Candidate In Lagos - May 22, 2026