Change: Jude Ilo thinks ‘It is i̶m̶POSSIBLE.’ Do I agree?, By Fisayo Soyombo

My favourite chapter is the one in which he discusses what is undoubtedly one of the most difficult tasks to saddle with changemakers: Talking to the enemy… Ilo has dedicated a chapter to detailing why changemakers should not entirely foreclose discussions with the enemy — the very people profiting from the status quo they’re attempting to dismantle. Ilo’s book draws on worthy examples at home and abroad about how that phone call to the enemy’s camp can put the seal on all the advocacy work done behind the scenes.

It is imPOSSIBLE? That was a slogan that gained momentum in the lead-up to the 2023 presidential election, which was defined by the emergence of Peter Obi (PO), candidate of the Labour Party, as a third major force and disruptor to the PDP-APC hegemony. The etymology of the slogan might be unclear, but it became sealed as a Peter Obi identity in December 2022 when the former Anambra governor announced his 72-page manifesto, titling it: ‘It’s POssible: Our Pact With Nigerians.’

So, naturally, when I saw Jude Ilo’s It Is imPOSSIBLE, my first reaction was “Oh no, not again! We know it is possible we already frittered away our economic prosperity until at least 2027, but can we move on from all 2023 election post-mortem and not get ahead of ourselves with any 2027 election ante-mortem yet?”

But no sooner had I turned the opening pages than I realised how wrong I was. Jude Ilo was not writing about Peter Obi or the Bola Tinubu administration hardship or the 2023 elections or the next shot at national salvation offered by the 2027 elections. He was talking change — social change — no less a controversial topic than elections, specifically a subject I believe should only be discussed in loose terms, far different from Jude Ilo’s conception. But Ilo isn’t the only one I disagree with.

In her Prologue to the book, ChiChi Aniagolu, regional director, Office for West Africa Ford Foundation, asks the question: “How does change happen?” Not just does she ask, she lists it as one of the “constant questions” many of us “must ask.” In other parts, Aniagolu writes about “building an ecosystem of change agents”, and interrogates the question of “how change happens.” She encourages every “change agent” to read this primer. As an ex-change-agent-turned-change-dissident, I wondered if the book was for me.

That aside, the author has gravely underestimated the wide-ranging applicability of his book by repeatedly suggesting it as a guide for civic actors and changemakers in Nigeria. This is not just a book about societal change, it contains gems about building teams, raising future heroes, building corporations from scratch and mapping out and pursuing personal dreams.

But I read it all the same, unsure how far I’d go before jettisoning it. As though Ilo was clairvoyant when writing, the opening words of the very first page were piercing: “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” Which then brings me to the futility — at best contentiousness — of discussing or attempting to influence ‘change’ in a captured state like Nigeria. If by Ilo’s admission, “the more things change, the more they stay the same”, what then is the entire point of change, or attempting to influence it? Does accepting the impossibility of changemaking lessen the disappointment of ‘change agents’ when the change that drives their work proves elusive? And does that lessened disappointment translate to longevity in advocacy for them, having now become insulated against the disenchantment that can arise from a lack of desired change, after committing significant time and effort to a cause?

This is especially true in Nigeria where, as Ilo himself notes, “the governance system seems wired to frustrate and undermine any attempt at fundamental change.” I became a journalist in 2005 with a clear, specific, self-avowed mission of using journalism to “drive societal change.” But I have spent the last half-decade chastening myself for being so idealistic, for thinking any man, or even a group of men, could ‘change’ Nigeria. Nigeria?

How do you inspire political change with specific regard to the corrupt and rapacious lifestyles of the political class at the expense of public good, for example? How do you drive change in a justice system in which several officials in the police-court-prison chain see accused persons and awaiting-trial inmates only in terms of their naira and kobo value? How do you institute change in a country where the Nigeria Customs Service (NCS) is the proven number one enabler of smuggling? The interconnectedness of the rot makes change nearly impossible, but then the work cannot stop as well.

And this is where I disagree with myself: While I believe that the concept of change is idealistic, I haven’t quite devised what to then christen this work I admit must continue? Is it societal advancement? Is it improvement? Or is it rot-slowing, knowing that if we cannot ‘change’ a bad situation, slowing down the rot is some sort of progress? Or is it just impact-making, even? This is a never-ending conversation. Maybe someone attending the book launch at the Ford Foundation Office on Banana Island on Tuesday, 8 October might be interested in further exploring the argument for or against.

The author speaks my mind when he notes that regardless of distrust for the enemy, every protest must end at the negotiation table. In the aftermath of the protest, this argument didn’t quite sit well with the youth, who were its main drivers. But it is an impeccable argument; its continued rejection is the exact reason advocacy through the streets must combine the ebullience of youth with the wisdom of the elderly.

That aside, the author has gravely underestimated the wide-ranging applicability of his book by repeatedly suggesting it as a guide for civic actors and changemakers in Nigeria. This is not just a book about societal change, it contains gems about building teams, raising future heroes, building corporations from scratch and mapping out and pursuing personal dreams.

For instance, in Part D, “How Not To Carry Out Advocacy”, Ilo highlights the dangers of “trying to always be the centre of your advocacy, so that you can take all or most of the credit”, undermining other advocacy groups, over-promising, demonising advocacy targets, and undermining or breaching the confidence of advocacy targets. But replace ‘advocacy’ with friendship or business or team or project, and the admonishment would find applicability.

My favourite chapter is the one in which he discusses what is undoubtedly one of the most difficult tasks to saddle with changemakers: Talking to the enemy. People whose life missions are motivated by altruism — not the ones in advocacy for the inordinate gains of fame, power and fortune — are definitely principled, which is great, but are sometimes rigid, which isn’t. Ilo has dedicated a chapter to detailing why changemakers should not entirely foreclose discussions with the enemy — the very people profiting from the status quo they’re attempting to dismantle. Ilo’s book draws on worthy examples at home and abroad about how that phone call to the enemy’s camp can put the seal on all the advocacy work done behind the scenes.

The book climaxes with historical examples of achieving and sustaining change, and important lessons for contemporary influencers of change. Impossible to overlook was the #EndSARS protest, whose biggest strength also became the albatross. The leaderlessness of the protest was one of the elongators of its shelf life, but it was also responsible for the government’s success in abruptly halting it. The author speaks my mind when he notes that regardless of distrust for the enemy, every protest must end at the negotiation table. In the aftermath of the protest, this argument didn’t quite sit well with the youth, who were its main drivers. But it is an impeccable argument; its continued rejection is the exact reason advocacy through the streets must combine the ebullience of youth with the wisdom of the elderly.

Fisayo Soyombo, a former editor of TheCable, SaharaReporters and the International Centre for Investigative Reporting (ICIR), is the founder of the Foundation for Investigative Journalism (FIJ).

Originally published by the Foundation for Investigative Journalism (FIJ).