Studies in Southern Nigerian History: A Festschrift for Joseph Christopher Okwudili Anene 1918-68

STUDIES IN SOUTHERN NIGERIAN HISTORY STUDIES IN SOUTHERN NIGERIAN HISTORY Edited by Boniface I.Obichere FRANK CASS ...

Author: Boniface I. Obichere

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STUDIES IN SOUTHERN NIGERIAN HISTORY

STUDIES IN SOUTHERN NIGERIAN HISTORY Edited by Boniface I.Obichere

FRANK CASS

First published 1982 in Great Britain by FRANK CASS AND COMPANY LIMITED Gainsborough House, Gainsborough Road, London, E11 1RS, England This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” and in the United States of America by FRANK CASS AND COMPANY LIMITED c/o Biblio Distribution Centre 81 Adams Drive, P.O.Box 327, Totowa, N.J. 07511 Copyright © 1982 Frank Cass & Co. Ltd. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Studies in Southern Nigerian history. 1. Nigeria—History I.Obichere, Boniface I 966.9 DT515.5 ISBN 0-203-98806-X Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-7146-3106-X (Print Edition) All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of Frank Cass and Company Limited in writing.

To Joseph Christopher Okwudili Anene 1918– 68

Contents

List of Contributors

vii

1

Introduction B.I.Obichere

1

2

Joseph Christopher Okwudili Anene: 1918–68 E.A.Ayandele

9

Political Studies 3

Nigeria: The Country of the Niger Area C.C.Ifemesia

21

4

Political History of the City States of Old Calabar, 1820–60 M.Efiong Noah

37

Economic Studies 5

The Native Revenue Ordinance in the Eastern Provinces: The Adventures of a Colonial Legislative Measure A.E.Afigbo

71

Social Studies 6

The Newspaper Press in Southern Nigeria, 1800– 1900 Fred I.A.Omu

101

7

The Nigeria Union of Teachers: 1930–65 Uga Onwuka

125

8

The Role of Ethnic Unions in the Development of Southern Nigeria: 1916–66

153

vi

Austin M.Ahanotu 9

The Nigerian Civil Service in the Colonial Era: A Study of Imperial Reactions to Changing Circumstances G.O.Olusanya

175

10

The British Navy and ‘Southern Nigeria’ in the Nineteenth Century Paul M.Mbaeyi

201

11

An Aspect of British Colonial Policy in Southern Nigeria: The Problem of Forced Labour and Slavery, 1895–1928 Walter I.Ofonagoro

219

Selected Bibliography

245

Index

263

Contributors

Boniface I.Obichere, Director, African Studies Center and Professor of History, University of California, Los Angeles, U.S.A. E.A.Ayandele, Vice-Chancellor, University of Calabar, Calabar, Nigeria C.C.Ifemesia, Department of History, University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Nigeria M.Efiong Noah, Department of History, University of Calabar, Calabar, Nigeria A.E.Afigbo, Professor of History and Dean, Faculty of Arts, University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Nigeria Fred I.A.Omu, Department of History, University of Lagos and Commissioner, Ministry of Education, Bendel State, Nigeria Uga Onwuka, Department of Education, University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Nigeria Austin M.Ahanotu, Department of History, California State College, Turlock, California G.O.Olusanya, Professor and Head, Department of History, University of Lagos, Lagos, Nigeria Paul M.Mbaeyi, Department of History, University of Benin, Benin City, Nigeria Walter I.Ofonagoro, Department of History, University of Lagos, Lagos, Nigeria

viii

MAP OF SOUTHERN NIGERIA

ix

SHOWING THE THREE PROVINCES

x

1 Introduction Boniface I.Obichere

The study of African history in general and of the history of Nigeria in particular has come of age. Many Nigerian historians are at present engaged in the study of various aspects of the history of their country. Political, economic, social, colonial, and intellectual history are now receiving the attention of researchers and students. Both micro and macro history deserve further study, analysis, and interpretation. Professional historians in Nigerian universities are in the vanguard of the present phase of meaningful activity in the study of Nigerian history. Teachers of history in schools and colleges and amateur historians in towns and villages are also contributing their share to the study of the history of Nigeria. Nigerians on the whole have a strong sense of history and a rich heritage of historical traditions. This collection of essays is a contribution to the total effort of the study of the history of Southern Nigeria. The study of political history remains a continuing challenge. The first attraction in this sphere of activity is the study of the large kingdoms and states as well as the study of the large noncentralized ethnic groups. The history and ethnography of Benin, Oyo, Sokoto, Kanem-Bornu, Nupe, Tiv, Igbo, and Efik have received much attention from Nigerian and foreign scholars. However, the history and ethnography of small-scale societies deserve to receive the searchlight of objective scholarship. These societies are less glamorous than their centralized neighbours, however, this does not mean that the study of their history will be less rewarding than the study of the splendour of the Bronze Age of Benin history. In Southern Nigeria, for example, small-scale societies such as the Anang, Ekoi, Gwari, Afemai, Igala, Ogoni, Ijaw, Itsekiri, and Urobo need to be studied in greater detail. On the other hand, the rather marginal societies of the Yako, Ugep,

2 STUDIES IN SOUTHERN NIGERIAN HISTORY

North-east Yorubaland, and the Niger Delta should not be ignored. The time has come for Nigerian historians to devote their energies to the study of societies other than their own. The universities in Nigeria have tended to encourage parochialism in historical research. One only hopes that this was a phase in the development of the overall research plan of these universities. The diversity of political organization and government in the various types of states should provide rich material for comparative analysis. The large number of monographs that have been produced by Nigerian historians on the political history of Southern Nigeria have collectively made a substantial contribution to our knowledge of the history of this area. However, we need more work, more monographs, and more comparative studies. Historians, teachers of history, and students of history should not rest on their oars but should accelerate the pace of historical research and writing in the decades ahead. The study of the economic history of Nigeria is not as developed as the study of Nigerian political history. The works of Dr Anthony G.Hopkins, Mr Richard Ekundare, Dr Walter I.Ofonagoro, Dr Enoch A.Anyanwu, Dr Austin M.Ahanotu, Dr Felicia I.Ekejiuba, Dr Cletus E.Emezi, Prof. A.E.Afigbo, Prof. Robert Gavin, Prof. Bolanle Awe, Prof. K.O.Dike and Dr David Northrop may be cited as examples of major and detailed studies of the economic history of Southern Nigeria. The pre-colonial economic history of Nigeria has hardly been scratched on the surface despite the great possibilities and problems posed by such a study. The mode of production, the systems of trade, the role of markets, and the system of exchange deserve thorough study. There are the areas of crop development, the history of subsistence agriculture, land ownership, slavery and the slave trade which have not yet been fully studied. Internal and domestic slavery should be studied with the same intensity and rigour as the trans-Saharan and the trans-Atlantic slave trades. The economic developments that occurred as a result of the arrival of Europeans in 1471 should receive as much attention as possible. The development of cash crops, mining, the origins of the division of labour in our societies, and specialization of economic activity are attractive subjects for further investigation. In this context, the differences between the seasonal division of labour and the sexual division of labour should be investigated. The growth of

INTRODUCTION 3

professions (smiths, weavers, craftsmen, potters, tanners, dyers, and barbers) in pre-colonial times needs to be studied in the various societies of Nigeria. Agricultural patterns and development in the forest belt, the savannah, and in arid lands call for detailed investigation and analysis. A thorough understanding of these subjects may prove to be a valuable asset in the present search for the diversification and expansion of Nigerian agriculture. The study of pre-colonial institutions is a challenge which must be taken up by Nigerian scholars. The economic history of Nigeria under colonialism is a subject of considerable significance. The wealth of data for the study of this period should make it an attractive field. In the analysis of this data hackneyed generalizations and imperialistic stereotypes should be neglected. New sets of questions should be posed which will lead to meaningful analysis of the data available for the study of the colonial period. The development of economic dependence as a result of colonial legislation and the needs of the metropolitan industrial complex should engage the attention of researchers in order to discover ways and means of breaking that dependence in the contemporary context. The growth of the infrastructure of the colonial economy involved the building of ports, railways, roads, and new towns. British companies monopolized the export-import trade. Indigenous merchants were driven out of business with the aid of imperialistic legislation. Certain laws and ordinances made it impossible for Nigerians to compete with the expatriate firms. Despite the imperialistic barriers, Nigerian entrepreneurs and pioneers stuck to their guns and participated in the colonial economy. British and European firms such as John Holt Ltd, the United Africa Company, Patterson-Zochonis, United Trading Company, the Compagnie Française d’Afrique Occidentale (CFAO), and the Société Commerciale de L’Ouest Africaine (SCOA) controlled the franchises and appointed agents according to their whims and caprices. East Indians were encouraged to take a leading role in the retail and wholesale trade. Greeks, Lebanese, and Syrians were all given better opportunities for participation in the colonial economy than Nigerians. The development of companies such as Mandilas and Karaberis, K.C.Chellaram, and Bhojsons should be studied in the context of the colonial economy. The growth of the money economy and the introduction of the various currencies from cowries and manillas to European coins


and notes in different parts of Nigeria deserve investigation. Shipping, and especially the role of the Elder Dempster Lines, Adolf Woermann Lines (Hamburg), and the French lines, formed an integral part of the colonial economy. Tariffs and customs duties in Nigeria from the nineteenth century to the present have not been systematically studied and analysed. The economy of Nigeria since independence should not escape the scrutiny of scholars. What advantages, if any, have resulted from the economic development plans that have been put together in Nigeria since the 1950s? What has been the impact of foreign, economic, and technical assistance? The rapid development of the oil industry appears to the common man as an overnight miracle. Researchers should delve into the origins of the oil industry in Nigeria, beginning with the colonial government proposals and geological reports since 1900. The accelerated search and exploration for oil in Southern Nigeria in the years before the Second World War deserve to be documented. The activities of the Shell Oil Company in Eastern Nigeria up to 1939 deserve careful analysis and study. Palm oil and crude oil have played significant roles in Nigeria’s economic development. Nigerian economists should, therefore, subject these industries to the searchlight of their craft and expertise. The study of social history has just begun to receive attention in Nigeria. Professor I.A.Akinjogbin has initiated and pioneered a volume on this aspect of Nigerian history and his effort will no doubt generate even more interest in this area. This volume contains several essays which are devoted to the various dimensions and aspects of Nigerian social history. The study of society and manners should go hand-in-hand with the study of the politics and politicians. The growth, the philosophy, and the psychology of Nigerian education are also an integral part of Nigerian social history. All levels of education from the kindergarten to the university deserve detailed study not only for historical satisfaction but also to provide a guide for future action in educational planning. Professor A.Babs Fafunwa has made a good beginning in this field and the work of Dr B.O. Ukeje is a contribution. Why has there been a very low regard for technical education? Why have vocational and technical schools traditionally attracted very few if any of the brightest students? The press is a central topic in the discussion of social history. The daily, weekly, and monthly newspapers and magazines of Nigeria

INTRODUCTION 5

are invaluable sources of evidence for the study of social history. Journalists and their perceptions of the society in which they lived and worked deserve rigorous study. Law, lawyers, and the Nigerian society are also interesting subjects for study. Legislation as an aspect of social engineering in Nigeria has not been given the attention it deserves by Nigerian scholars. The police and law enforcement institutions and the judiciary are an integral part of society. Professor T.N. Tamuno’s pioneering work on the role of the police force in Nigerian society deserves mention here. However, more work is needed in this area of the study of law and order. The civil and criminal codes of law need to be examined and their relevance to Nigerian society needs to be questioned objectively. Crime and punishment and the limits of criminal sanction should be examined and assessed dispassionately. The social institutions of Nigeria deserve our continuing attention. The family as the building block of society deserves more scholarly attention than has been given to it by foreign anthropologists and ethnographers. The institutions of marriage, the extended family, and the variations of these in different parts of Nigeria deserve a prominent place in the study of Nigerian social history. One aspect of Nigerian society which has attracted the attention of several scholars in the recent past is the new middle class elite. Professor Hugh Smythe and Dr Mabel Smythe raised this discussion to a new level in 1960 with the publication of their book, The New Nigerian Elite. Recently, Professor E.A. Ayandele reopened the question of the study of the Nigerian elite by his controversial and stimulating book, The Educated Elite in the Nigerian Society (Ibadan, 1974). Some of the generalizations made by Professor Ayandele should excite some Nigerian social scientists and galvanize them into intellectual activities concerned with the study of the Nigerian elite. The role of education and money in upward mobility deserve further scrutiny. The new morality and the apparent ruthlessness of the elite are social phenomena that should receive the attention of social scientists. The urban areas in Nigeria have generated not only a new breed of Nigerians but also a new type of social life. With the rise of discotheques, night clubs, and the drug culture has come a new brand of popular music which is indigenously Nigerian. Who are these musicians? Who composes the lyrics of


their songs for them? It is common knowledge that most of the leading popular musicians compose their eulogies of the moneyed class and the elite extemporaneously as they are charged up by the deafening electronic sounds of their band and the dynamics of the group and audience to which they are playing. The whole question of sport as social history has yet to receive the attention of Nigerian researchers and students. Nigeria has produced many world class sportsmen in the area of athletics, boxing, football, and even horse-racing. We need substantial biographies of our sports heroes such as Hogan ‘Kid’ Bassey, Dick Tiger (Dick Ihetu), and Nojim Maiyegun and numerous others. The important role played by the creation of the Grier Cup and the Hussey Shield competitions in 1933 in secondary school sports deserves detailed study. Nigeria’s participation in the Olympic Games began in Helsinki in 1952. What has been the development in Nigeria’s Olympic teams since then? Who have been the athletes and what has been the measure of success that has attended their efforts? The study of sports as social history will yield comparative data for the study of the relationships between Nigeria and the various neighbouring West African states that have engaged in sports competition with Nigeria. The history of ideas and their development has always been a fascinating aspect of the study of any society on earth. The intellectual history of Nigeria, therefore, should not be neglected. Nigerian philosophers, writers, journalists, and politicians have provided us with the raw materials for the study of Nigerian intellectual history. Professor Donatus Nwoga has written an incisive essay on some aspects of the development of ideas from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries. Professor Ayandele’s recent book on ‘Holy’ Johnson could be cited as an example of what is possible. It should be mentioned here that Dr Fred I.A. Omu of the University of Lagos has spent considerable time and effort on the study of the Nigerian press and the intellectual history generated by Nigerian journalism. Nigeria has produced men who have written down their ideas. Some Nigerian authors have written several books from which an analysis of their thoughts and ideas could be undertaken. They have, as it were, thrown down the gauntlet for Nigerian scholars and intellectuals. The religious history of Nigeria is an exciting field of endeavour. Several excellent books have been written by Nigerians on some aspects of religious history. However, more work needs to be done

INTRODUCTION 7

with reference to Animism, Christianity, and Islam in Nigerian societies. The study of Animism should not be confined to ritual and magic as the anthropologists have done in the past. This study should now focus on the cosmology, the annual calendar, the festivals, and the philosophy of the religious beliefs of the people. The study of the occult should examine the varieties of fraternities and secret societies and their role in social control in the societies they serve. The need for more research in religious history was recently emphasized by Professors J.F.A.Ajayi and E.A. Ayandele in a significant article published in the Journal of African Studies in 1974. The chapters in this volume have been grouped under the convenient headings of political, economic, and social studies. There is no effort here at a systematic, chronological history of Southern Nigeria. Our intention is to demonstrate the vast possibilities that exist for those interested in the study of the history of Southern Nigeria in particular or the history of Nigeria as a whole. The most commonly published and discussed aspects of the political history of Southern Nigeria have been left out. There are no studies in this volume of the very well known kingdoms. The essays in economic history are eye-openers to university students and other researchers interested in this field of endeavour. The essays grouped under social studies illustrate the variety of subjects that await detailed study by Nigerians and others interested in the history of Nigeria. It is hoped that this volume will underscore the need for vigorous and rigorous intellectual efforts in the future in all the areas and aspects of the history of Nigeria. The realization of this hope will be enhanced by the publication of Groundwork of Nigerian History which is now in preparation and to which several scholars have contributed significant chapters.

8

2 Joseph Christopher Okwudili Anene: 1918–68 E.A.Ayandele

Joseph Christopher Okwudili Anene devoted more than a third of his life to sustained and continuous historical scholarship, successively as postgraduate researcher, lecturer, author and Professor and Head of the Department of History of two Nigerian universities. His hard-way ascent of the academic ladder is, perhaps, the best testimony of the man as a scholar—ever unsparing himself in his unstinted devotion to learning, ever responding to challenges of the kaleidoscopically changing milieux of the colonial and post-colonial eras in which he was called to cut his niche as a doyen of Nigerian history. Joseph Anene was born in Onitsha on 15 September 1918, a native of Abude village in Nando in Anambra State, some sixteen miles from Onitsha. His father was one of the earliest fruits of the evangelistic effort of the Holy Ghost Fathers, becoming informally but effectively literate to the point of being employed in the Marine branch of the Nigerian Police Force; his unlettered mother, who is still alive, was the first of five wives and is a devout Catholic. It was in the commercial town of Onitsha, for decades the intellectual vanguard of Igboland, that Anene received his formal education: primary in Holy Trinity School and post-primary in Christ the King’s College (then a four-year secondary school), and in St Charles Training College, of which he was a foundation member. By 1937 he had qualified as a Grade II Teacher and six years later as a Grade I Teacher in mathematics and history, this apart from excelling in the London Matriculation examination. He was never an un dergraduate, a point worth bearing in mind when comparing him with K.O.Dike and S.O.Biobaku, with whom he shares the honour of being one of the first generation professional historians in Nigeria. As an external candidate he passed the examination for the Intermediate BA of London University in 1946


and three years later passed the BA Honours in history. He achieved these successes by assiduous studies and by indulging in punitive habits like putting his legs in cold water to fend off sleep. Rather than rest on his oars as a graduate in a society in which graduates were few and far between, Joseph Anene shook off the dust of Nigeria and went to Britain for postgraduate studies. The next four years saw him in Cork and London Universities, completing his MA dissertation in 1952, after which he spent another year doing professional postgraduate training in education. In 1954 he joined the staff of the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology, Ibadan Branch (nucleus of the University of Ife) as Lecturer in History where he was the only Nigerian academic on the staff. He remained there until 1956 when he transferred to the Department of History at University College, Ibadan. Any analysis of Anene should begin with his teaching career. From 1938 until his death thirty years later, he never contemplated a different career. A born teacher, he was exceptionally kind, infinitely patient, painstaking, and dedicated. He was affectionate, humorous, and magnificently warm-hearted. It was his belief that no greater service could be given in a society like Nigeria’s than participation in the moulding of the minds of young men and women, the future leaders of New Africa. His lectures, as a rule quite formal, were revised year by year in response to new publications. Basically well-developed summaries of facts and opinions of the best authors, they were brilliant and lively, inspiring and touching, spiced as they usually were with humour and phraseologies that had been penned by historians of Europe in their best moments of inspiration. From September 1954, when Anene was my teacher in the Ibadan Branch of the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology, to the time of his death, none of his students escaped the truth that history has a rhetoric of its own. This was not only a pet subject of conversation among students but a message which inspired not a few to appreciate the value of the written word in the craft of historical interpretation and analysis. Of no mean significance was Anene’s success in inculcating in students the relevance to Nigerian society of historical studies of other societies—European, American, Indian, Ceylonese, and Australasian. Irrespective of time and clime, he stressed, the universality of human behaviour—thought pattern, interaction with others and so on—was an umbilical cord that ties together all

JOSEPH CHRISTOPHER OKWUDILI ANENE 11

mankind. As early as 1954, for instance, he was able to make students study nineteenth century Europeans as humans essentially like themselves, endowed with the good and the bad in their nature as are contemporary Africans. It was in his attitude toward students that Anene was at his best as a teacher. At tutorials he was more of a guide than a teacher, counselling but allowing individuals to discover their resourcefulness and achieve solid confidence in themselves as leaders of discussions. He was one of the very few lecturers to whom students unburdened their minds and whose fraternal affection and sympathy were genuine. He mixed freely with the students, many of whom became his lifelong friends. Anene was a versatile teacher, at home in British and European history which he taught at the Nigerian College, and in Nigerian history, British colonial history, and African history, which he taught at the University of Ibadan. It should be remarked that people like him were self-made and self-taught in Nigerian history and African history because courses in these fields were not available in universities in their undergraduate days. His burden of teaching at University College, Ibadan is clear from the fact that from 1956 to 1962 he was solely in charge of three of the nine oneyear courses for the BA (London) examinations. These were British colonial history, Special Subject I (the Dependencies) and Special Subject II (the Dominions). There was also the East Africa part of the African History course in which he became a specialist. Indeed his contribution to the grooming of undergraduates for historical studies was more than quantitative. Qualitatively, he was entirely responsible for initiating every student into the rudiments of historical research, training them in the use and interpretation of documents on the British Dependencies (West Indies, British West Africa, East Africa), and the Dominions (Canada, Australasia, South Africa, India, and Ceylon). Diverse as the peoples involved were as they were far apart from one another geographically, Anene succeeded in knitting them together as equal members of the human family reacting to factors peculiar to their different milieux. He was never emotional or subjective in his approach to the study of the Dependencies, areas under British colonial rule but in which agitation for independence had begun. As he asserted time and again, it was not the duty of the historian to moralize, but to try to understand and be able to explain why, for instance, the Afrikaners or British settlers in Kenya had racialist


attitudes towards Africans; or the French Canadians’ aversion for British empire-builders; or the New Zealanders’ indomitable apostles of the British imperial idea. Thus there was no question of students hating the British or Afrikaners as such, but understanding them in relation to their thinking and circumstances. Joe Anene was no less a researcher than a teacher and he was a tireless researcher all through his life. Especially remarkable is the fact that like Robert Browning’s Grammarian, he went on fulfilling himself in his calling with a health irretrievably damaged in the early part of 1961. Perpetually piqued and irritated by the infinite riches of the African past awaiting the resourcefulness of scholars, a frequent subject of discussion with this writer was the small number of labourers for the African harvest. Quite often he regretted the conflict between the ideal—what he would wish to accomplish—and the actual—the little he could achieve in a lifetime. Therefore, he never spared himself in his titanic effort to learn by research. His appetite in this direction was undoubtedly whetted by the fact that, unlike his contemporaries K.O.Dike and S.O.Biobaku, he had the challenge of a disadvantage. His 1952 MA thesis, ‘The establishment and consolidation of Imperial government in Southern Nigeria (1891–1904): theory and practice in a colonial Protectorate’, was wholly imperial in content, in emphasis, in methodology, and in perspective. However, so educable, adaptable, and resourceful was Joseph Anene that hardly had he obtained the higher degree than he began to immerse himself in the African past in general and the Nigerian past in particular. By 1955 he had become well known as a scholar of Nigerian history and was appointed as a part-time lecturer of this course in the Department of History, University College, Ibadan. Resolved to exorcise the ghost of imperial history from his 1952 dissertation, he began to collect local data. The result was Southern Nigeria in Transition (Cambridge 1966), a complement to the well known K.O. Dike’s, Trade and Politics in the Niger Delta, 1830–1885 (Oxford, 1956). The metamorphosis of the thesis to the book is clear from the focus of the latter: the reaction of Southern Nigerian peoples to the hawkish imperial ambition of the British, as well as the solvent effects of British colonialism on the customs and institutions of these peoples. In the meantime, Joe Anene had started research into the complex problems of the international frontiers of Nigeria, a subject he succeeded in making extremely fascinating. His attempt


was to delve into the ethno-history of myriads of ethnic groups, inter-ethnic relations, and the fallacies and errors committed by the imperial powers of Britain, France, and Germany in their partition of Africa which ignored the past in the delimitation of boundaries. His effort, to say the least, was a very bold one which to this date has been shared only by a few historians and historical geographers of Africa. The ethnographical data and oral evidence he worked with were materials few of his contemporaries would wish to process. His doctoral thesis, completed in 1960 and published in 1970 in the Ibadan History Series as The International Boundaries of Nigeria, is indisputably a solid work and the high water mark of his scholarship. With Southern Nigeria in Transition and The International Boundaries of Nigeria, Joseph Anene, who had refused extradepartmental positions in the university that might have diverted him from his singular dedication to historical scholarship, established himself as the only member of the first generation Nigerian professional historians to publish two books. But so voracious was his appetite for learning and research that by 1965 he had three projects already close to his heart. First was a biography of Jaja, the famous founder of Opobo and challenger of British imperialism in the Niger Delta in the latter half of the nineteenth century, about whom he became increasingly fascinated. Not only had he assembled fresh and illuminating materials on this heroic character, but he had appointed as an assistant, the late E.M.T.Epelle, a chronicler and effective gatherer of data of unchallenged interest in the past of the Niger Delta peoples. A second project was the Eastern Nigerian Historical Research Scheme of which he was appointed Director in 1965. The idea was to organize a comprehensive study of the peoples of the former Eastern Region, in imitation of the less ambitious Yoruba Historical Research Scheme and the Benin Research Project. The grand initial sum of £200,000 was voted for the project, which he was directing frenetically at Nsukka until the outbreak of the Nigerian Civil War of 1967–71. By no means least of the projects was his plan of an authoritative history of Nigeria, a plan he had begun to speak openly about as early as 1963 when he became Professor and Head of the Department of History at the University of Ibadan. Persuaded that the Ibadan School of History had assembled more than enough materials (the publication of which would put in their


proper place the imperial-oriented and general books on Nigeria), he had by 1966 worked out the details of this project with the Oxford University Press. Scholars, mostly from the Ibadan History School, had been assigned chapters and he himself had begun to turn in his own contributions when the civil war obliterated the project. Howbeit, it is gratifying that the idea has been revived and is being put into effect by the Historical Society of Nigeria. The merits of Joseph Anene’s research are not in doubt. The scope is extensive and the inspiration is there for the younger generation. As a scholar he fulfilled himself, exemplifying the philosophy that the essence of living is in making an effort. His academic accomplishment, it needs repeating, was attained with broken health, and on top of that the height of his administrative duties as Head of the Department of History at the University of Ibadan and at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. Critics might comment on his rather ponderous style and turgid language which sometimes inhibit the flow of his writing. However, few would doubt the solidity of his achievement, in circumstances harsher than his contemporaries experienced. Indeed, Joe Anene was humbler than others less accomplished than he. Never boastful he was quite unobtrusive, quietly researching all the time. Posterity, I am convinced, will assess him as a scholar greater than his appearance and the public at large knew of him. Joe Anene became Professor and Head of the Department of History within a year of the new status of the University of Ibadan. The implication of the transformation of the old outpost college of the University of London is that syllabuses had to be reviewed in relation to the special needs of Nigeria. In no discipline was the challenge greater than in history where under the old dispensation Nigerian history was not an entity but only a non-substantial part of a general and superficial African history course. The rest were British and European history courses (two papers each) studied avidly for two years consecutively and courses on British colonial and imperial history. It was under his headship that new, relevant, and authentically African syllabuses were worked out, which widened the horizon of students far more than the London-based and London-fashioned syllabuses. Nigerian history and African history received due prominence and European history was reduced to a single course. However, the student was more exposed to global history than his London University predecessor because he was obliged to choose optional courses


that included American history, Russian history, and the history of the Middle East. Indeed, it became possible for students to study, for documentary purposes, such subjects as the French Revolution, the New Deal, and the Bolshevik Revolution. Emphasis was on meaningful and balanced diversification as well as intensity. Little wonder that the first history graduates of the University of Ibadan had a much sounder training in relation to the aspirations and special milieu of Nigeria than their predecessors of the University College, Ibadan, which was British-oriented. No less an achievement than the revolution of undergraduate syllabuses was the launching of postgraduate studies of which the School of History has been foremost in productivity (in terms of publications) in the University of Ibadan. By September 1966, when he left Ibadan for Nsukka, the Ibadan History Series, in which more than a dozen titles have appeared, had been launched and a strong centre for the study of African history established. As Head of Department in Ibadan, Anene was very concerned about the recovery of materials on Nigerian history scattered in European capitals, particularly in Britain. With the substantial sum of N28,000 from the Ford Foundation, he was able to recover quite a good deal of archival materials and personal effects in and outside of Nigeria. Notable among these were Admiralty Papers, Colonial Office and Foreign Office Series from the Public Record Office, London, Christian Mission Papers—CMS and Wesleyans, Papers of the Aborigines Protection Society, and Lugard Papers from Rhodes Library, Oxford. Exploration went as far as Liverpool, Edinburgh, and Bangor in Britain, and the United States. From Nigeria were recovered the Fombo Collections and papers on Ijebu history. His ambition was to build up Ibadan as a research centre for the study of the history of Nigeria in particular. In the belief that the results of researchers in universities should be made available to the teachers of history in the country, Anene played a crucial role in the convening of a workshop on the teaching of African history which took place in Ibadan in the Easter vacation of 1965. Planned jointly with the Institute of Education, it was Joe’s lot to present the case for much needed financial support for the workshop to the Carnegie Foundation in New York. Secondary school teachers from all over Nigeria, most of them graduates who had never studied African history in universities abroad, listened to scholars from Africa and Britain on a variety of themes which reflected the frontiers of knowledge


already mapped. The minds as well as the scholarship behind the processing of the vast information literally confounded the teachers. The result was the companion volumes A Thousand Years of West African History and Africa in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries (Ibadan and London, 1966), which till this day remain the best general accounts. Anene co-edited the latter volume. Joe Anene was very anxious that the consolations and excitement of African history be brought to the attention of secondary school teachers. To this end he was dismayed by the non-availability of suitable textbooks for the newly introduced courses in African history of the West African Examinations Council. He was even more dismayed by the harmful attempt of local publishers in Nigeria, who began to cash in on the short-cut strategy of students craving for question-and-answer type publications by graduates who began to rush to print without fathoming the content and perspective of the new syllabuses and the research being done in Ibadan. In order to nip this un-toward development in the bud he yielded to pressure by a local publisher to show the way. The result was Essays on the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, published by Onibon-Oje Press, Ibadan, which he co-authored with three of his colleagues and which has been enjoying national circulation since its publication in 1966. As Head of the Department of History in Ibadan, he was dedicated. He saw himself as no more than primus inter pares, treating the staff as colleagues, even when a third of them were his ex-students. Friendly and genial by nature, his devotion to the progress of the Department was complete, his sense of service wholesome, his moral probity and integrity inflexible. He was not only liked but loved, a fine affable man with a contagiously sincere smile and a magnificent heart that harboured ill towards no one. His work in Ibadan came suddenly to an end in 1966, after the coup d’état of 29 July, in Nigeria. The rest of his life was spent partly at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka where he was Head of the History and Archaeology Department and partly as a refugee in war-ridden Biafra. He became, with his family, a fugitive, withdrawing as the frontier of armed warfare moved more and more into the Igbo heartland, first to Enugu, then to Onitsha, then to Owerri, and finally to Amaigbo, the historic birthplace and hometown of Jaja. It was at Moano Joint Hospital that he died on 3 November 1968 from natural causes, certainly aggravated by the


tension imposed on him by what he regarded as a mad war, and the non-availability of essential drugs from which he had been finding relief since his hospitalization in 1961. Joe Anene deserves to be remembered by historians of Nigeria for many reasons, two of which I should mention. First, he was a practising professional historian. His thoughts were cast in the historian’s mould. He had a perception of history to the point of adopting a liberal and understanding outlook in his relations with people. He sought to accommodate individuals of infinite variety shaped by different forces of history. Thus, when people behaved in ways less rational or less ethical than would be expected, he philosophized about their behaviour, looking upon them with genuine pity as victims of socio-cultural forces or genetic laws beyond their control. The cornerstone of his attitude was malice towards none and charity to all. As he often told the writer, hatred is a venom that boomerangs inside the nurturer, upsetting the chemistry of his body and disturbing his physical equilibrium. A man who was whole, he used to say, should have a pure heart. Second, the quintessence of historical scholarship for Joe Anene was the concept of the universality of man. To this end, he accepted individuals as they were, rather than in relation to the colour of their skin or their ethnic label. If ever in the triviaridden academic community of Ibadan in the fifties and sixties a PanNigerian ever existed, that man was Joseph Anene. It was no accident that the writer, a Yoruba and his student twice, remained his best and bosom friend, and that other Nigerians closest to him were mostly outside the Igbo community. It was more than rumour that he was not liked by some of the Igbo students and lecturers in Ibadan who could not forgive him for not attending ethnic caucus meetings on the campus, or for his encouragement of non-Igbo students to pursue postgraduate studies, or for his lack of interest in their desire to be appointed to the Department of History. Anene was the global man, numbering non-Africans among his friends. Apart from his basically expansive and warm nature, he derived his philosophy of the universality of man from his extensive reading on other communities. He was well read, far more than he cared to reveal publicly. Private conversations revealed in bold relief that he informed himself extensively about other peoples outside Africa, and that he closely followed the affairs of Soviet and American societies.


It was natural that the fate of such a kind-hearted man was a matter of concern to professional colleagues in and outside Nigeria. In July 1967, I was informed that the University of Sierra Leone offered him, without any application from him, the Chair of History at Fourah Bay College. He declined the offer. This writer hunted after information about him in East Africa in December 1968, completely unaware that he was dead. The news of his death, known at Ibadan only at the end of the war in January 1971, shocked his admirers and colleagues in and outside the continent of Africa and brought forth genuine tributes. An able conversationalist, warming up to the point of becoming emotional when commenting on contemporary issues, Joe Anene was a man of dignity and respectability which were harnessed by his fine presence and robust personality. A rugged individualist, he had his idiosyncratic habits. Scrupulously tidy and well-kempt, he loved to have everything in its place. Though neither a hedonist nor a wanderer, he believed in living very well, never bothering about worldly acquisitions. Until the last year of his life, it never occurred to him that he would need a shelter of his own. He took life as it was, perhaps too simply, believing that the morrow should take care of itself. He was a collector of curios, taking special delight in acquiring flat watches and extending sympathy to a nonfunctional bicycle he had possessed since 1954. The greatest fortune Joe Anene had was his home which was a veritable castle. There he found serenity of mind and true relaxation. His marriage to loving and vivacious Violet Ekwutosi Ofodile on 6 October 1954 was blissful and resulted in three children. It is proper and fitting to pay tribute to one of the first African historiographers, a humble, conscientious, and dedicated scholar, a man of fundamental kindness, hospitality, and sympathy. Nothing illustrates better his humanity that the manner in which he shared what he had during the Civil War with the poor whose plight gave him special sorrow. The Nigerian Civil War shocked him beyond belief. He found it difficult to think that Nigerians must resort to physical violence to settle their differences. What a pity that he never lived to see the post-war Nigerian nation, which is similar to the vision of Nigeria which he earnestly strove to achieve not only by precepts but by his example.

Political Studies

20

3 Nigeria: The Country of the Niger Area C.C.Ifemesia

Nigeria lies entirely within the tropics, between latitude 4° 20 ′and 14°00 ′north, and longitude 2°20 ′and 14°30 ′east. An irregular rhomboid shape which stretches for some 700 miles from south to north and some 650 miles from east to west, it has a total area of over 356,000 square miles. It is the largest single political unit on the west coast of Africa, the most populous country in Africa, and the world’s largest country of black people. Nigeria derives its name from the great river system which is its most dominant physical feature: it is the country of the Niger area. The etymology of the name ‘Niger’ itself has been a subject of controversy for a long time, particularly in the last 150 years. In 1832, Dr Martin Leake, Secretary of the Society for Promoting the Discovery of the Interior Parts of Africa (later known as the African Association), stated that the Greek geographer Ptolemy called the river Nigeir or Nigir.1 This was translated into Latin as Niger. Little more than fifty years ago, in 1925, Dr C.K.Meek, a British anthropologist then in Nigeria, claimed that he had discovered that the Buduma (Yedina) word for ‘river’ was Njer or Nijer; but this has not been verified. More recently, in 1960, in the maiden issue of the Journal of African History, Meek revived the debate. After reviewing the evidence on the subject, he concluded, ‘whatever the outcome of further research, one thing will remain clear, namely that “NIGEIRA”, the word used by Ptolemy to describe the land of the people of the Niger river, would be a more accurate term, etymologically, than the comparatively recent “NIGERIA” with its false, and, to many Africans, offensive association with the Latin adjective niger—Black.’ In 1964, Professor M.D.W.Jeffreys, a former British administrative officer in Nigeria, now in Witwatersrand University, Johannesburg, took


up the discussion. He concluded the word Niger was derived from an entirely different root: a Semitic word naghar (signifying ‘river’), which he also argued was the root of the word Senegal.2 Since the question of the etymology of the name ‘Niger’ is strictly not a matter for the historian, it must be left to the linguists to settle. The historian of Africa today usually calls into the service of his discipline only those conclusions reached by linguists which convincingly help to illuminate the past. But it is important to direct attention to the debate because of the facile and complacent assumption in some quarters that the name ‘Niger’ is derived from the Latin word for ‘black’. Similarly, it has often been asserted that the name ‘Nigeria’ was coined by Flora Shaw (the future Lady Lugard) as the title of an article which was published in The Times of London on 8 January 1897, an article in which she suggested: The name “Nigeria”, applying to no other portions of Africa, may without offence to any neighbours, be accepted as co-extensive with the territories over which the Royal Niger Company has extended British influence’. But, as early as 1859–60 a Liverpool trader, William Cole, used the terms ‘Nigerian’ and ‘Nigerians’ in reference to things, events, and peoples of the area watered by the Niger.3 During this period, Cole was operating in a tract of the Niger basin extending from the Ijaw country in the Delta to the Nupe country above the Niger-Benue confluence. Since Lady Lugard was the colonial correspondent of The Times when she wrote, she may have read Cole’s book on the Niger and its peoples. A few years later when she published her major work, A Tropical Dependency (London, 1905), it showed that she had extensively read earlier works on Nigeria. In any event, the historical fact is that the expressions ‘Nigerian’ and ‘Nigerians’ had been used some forty years before Lady Lugard introduced the word ‘Nigeria’. At the same time that Cole was on the Niger, Dr William Balfour Baikie, a British political agent, was demonstrating to his countrymen, through his official dispatches, private letters, and political activities, that the Niger was an axis around which a great modern state could be built. He visualized ‘the foundation of a strong [British] power’ holding sway over the region extending from the southern edge of the Sahara to the shores of the Bights of Benin and Biafra4—roughly the area of the Niger-Benue complex now known as Nigeria.

THE COUNTRY OF THE NIGER AREA 23

Perhaps it is because the Niger is so much the framework on which Nigeria is built that its very existence sometimes appears to be forgotten even by Nigerians themselves. But the Niger is the longest and largest river in West Africa, the third longest river on the African continent. It is one of the eleven longest rivers of the world and one of the seven largest with respect to drainage area and maximum discharge.5 Nor is it easy to imagine the existence of Nigeria herself without the Niger. For instance, within the country the total drainage area of the Niger, its tributaries, and outlets is about 222,000 square miles, i.e. about sixty per cent of the total area of Nigeria. The Niger Delta alone extends over 250 miles of coast and covers an area of over 14,000 square miles. The main river is navigable from the sea to Jebba, a distance of some 550 miles;6 its major tributary, the Benue, is navigable from Lokoja to Garoua (in the Cameroun Republic), a distance of some 610 miles. For centuries the Niger-Benue system was the principal artery of trade and contact between the peoples established on the rivers’ banks. Prominent among them were the Ijaw, Igbo, IshanAfenmai, Igala, Kakanda, Yoruba, and Nupe on the Niger; the Igbirra, Idoma, Tiv, Jukun, and Fulani on the Benue. Before and during the nineteenth century, two inter-related systems of trade were practised on the Niger by the people of the Niger area. Some adventurous, intinerant merchants employed large dug-out canoes—vessels up to forty feet long with load capacities of several tons—trading for long distances up and down the river. Some Europeans who visited the Niger during the first half of the nineteenth century saw Delta traders as far upstream as the Niger-Benue Confluence, and Igbirra and Hausa traders as far downstream as Asaba and Abo.7 But the majority of merchants, who could not afford the large capital investment in canoes and cargoes necessary to make long-distance trade an economic proposition, followed a pattern of trade in which a more elaborate organization made up for their less impressive resources. Central markets were established at strategic points on the river—at Abo (at the apex of the Delta), at Asaba and Onitsha (between Abo and Idah), at Idah (between Onitsha and Ikiri), and at Ikiri (in the neighbourhood of the confluence). Ijaw (mainly Brass and Bonny) merchants brought European goods and local salt to Abo, where they were exchanged for slaves and produce; then Abo traders carried these wares to


Asaba or Onitsha, where they were traded for commodities from areas further inland, and so on. A fair was held at regular intervals on an island opposite Asaba during the dry season, and on the waterfront of the town itself during the rainy season. This seasonal shifting and the fact that a larger fair was also held at Ikiri, an island 105 miles upstream, might help to explain the confusion in the early nineteenth century European records, some of which refer to Asaba as ‘Kirri Market’.8 The region around the confluence was the natural meeting-ground for the peoples of nearly all districts of the Lower Niger Basin and beyond. Ijaw, Igbo, and Igala merchants were to be found there as were Yoruba, Gwari, Kakanda, Igbirra, Idoma, and Jukun traders. The Ikiri fair, which was held every ten days, was attended by traders from all these places.9 The central fairs or markets were regarded as neutral zones not generally affected by war in the vicinity. And when indeed, as is often the case with all such places, their neutrality was violated, trade was resumed as quickly as possible. Peace was also maintained through the influence of local rulers—the kings of Igala, Onitsha, Abo, and Nembe-Brass, For instance, the Lander brothers had a brush with traders near Asaba in October 1830. First the matter was investigated by the local council, then referred to Obi Ossai, the king of Abo, within whose sphere of influence the event had taken place. In the end, the British travellers were ransomed by the Nembe-Brass prince, Amain Kulo (‘King Boy’ of the European records), who gave the Obi goods to the value of twenty bars (about £5).10 Until the last quarter of the nineteenth century, Abo was the dominant power on the lower Niger as far upstream as Asaba. She was known as Abo Obuchili Osimili (Abo, controller of the river). Like the Delta states, she made extensive use of war canoes (ugbo ekele). In times of grave emergency, when the Obi had to fight ‘a great war’, he could muster up to 300 war canoes fully armed and manned in Abo and the tributary areas.11 Further upstream, the Ata of Igala could also procure the means for policing the Niger. In 1832–4, Ata Ekalaga could lend Dr Richard Oldfield, a Liverpool medical officer on a trading expedition, ten large war canoes, each carrying some fifty to sixty men, to tow his steamship, the Alburkah to Idah from Ossomari. He could send a fleet of fifty war canoes against the ‘piratical’ Kakanda people who were assailed with many taken prisoner.12


The Niger powers, moreover, co-operated when the need arose. There was, for example, the joint action of the kings of Abo, Igala, and Nupe during the abortive search for Alfred Carr and Henry Bulmer, two members of the official British expedition of 1841 who had mysteriously disappeared in the Delta while on their way from the coast to Lokoja. In addition to the protective and unifying influence of the rulers on the Niger trade was the beneficial use of cowries as currency. These mollusc shells had found their way to the Niger via the Sahara and the Atlantic. Two species of cowries were in use: the smaller Cypraea moneta from the Maldive Islands, and the larger Cypraea annulus from Zanzibar and the neighbouring islands—all in the Indian Ocean. Cowries headed the list of commodities required by the Obi of Abo from the Liverpool merchant Macgregor Laird from 1832 to 1834. They were described as passing ‘currency in every part of the interior’, being ‘the best means of exchange’ from Abo to Bussa. On the lower Niger cowries were strung together in lots of 100 or 200 to facilitate calculation; large sums were collected in bags containing from 30, 000 to 60,000. By 1832–4, cowries were reckoned at 1s. per 1,000 (about 45s. per cwt). But by 1841–2, the price had risen to 1s.3d. per 1,000 (about 56s. per cwt).13 Hausa was, as Laird says, ‘the language generally spoken by traders’ on the Niger. In particular, it was freely used by longdistance merchants from Bussa to the Delta.14 It still remains the language of trade and communication in a large section of Northern Nigeria. Besides the Niger and its tributaries, there were other avenues of trade and contact between people in distant parts of what we now know as Nigeria. And these avenues were often linked, directly or indirectly, with the river system. One such highway was the KanoBadagry land route. Caravans from north Africa and the Sahara brought to Katsina and Kano, the main entrepôts of the Central Sudan, a wide range of European goods, including Manchester cottons, French silks, Venetian beads, German swords and mirrors, Italian paper, as well as Saharan salt and dates. And from the cities they carried away gold, grain, hides and skins, cloth, ostrich feathers, ivory, kola nuts, and slaves. South of Kano the important towns on the route included Zaria, Birnin Gwari, Womba, Kontagora, and Kulfo. At Kulfo, caravans converged not only from Kano and Katsina, but also from Gobir and Zamfara in


the north, from Bornu in the north-east, from Yoruba and even Edo in the south.15 In addition to the commodities already mentioned, horses from Hausa and Bornu were brought here by the Yoruba for the cavalry of the old Oyo army. Further south, the overland route crossed the Niger at Ogudu (Ogadu), a mixed Nupe-Yoruba town situated about twenty miles below Jebba and almost directly east of Old Oyo. South-bound caravans crossed the Niger at Raba, the Nupe capital said to have been founded around 1795.16 Since the traders had to travel in caravans several thousand strong because of occasional disturbances on the route, the crossing of the Niger became a serious undertaking. The constant crossing of caravans through Raba from Kano to Ilorin’ wrote the Reverend Samuel Ajayi Crowther in 1857, ‘renders this place [Raba] a most important central position of communication between Hausa and Yoruba’.17 The Nupe provided the requisite facilities at Raba and collected tolls on passengers and cargoes. Crowther reckoned that a large amount of money was earned in this way during the six dry months of the year. The many Hausa, Yoruba, and other traders who used these facilities were dealing in such commodities as salt, dried fish, natron, shea butter, millet, kola nuts, cloth and leather goods, as well as horses, cattle and other livestock, and riding gear. South of the Niger the overland route lay first through Ilorin, then from the mid-nineteenth century on, through New Oyo (AgoOyo), Ibadan, and Abeokuta. From Abeokuta the road branched off to Lagos or Badagry. Badagry, the chief southern terminus, was an important centre of the European slave trade. Besides its British, Spanish, Portuguese, and French residents, it had a large Hausa community trading between the coast and Kano.18 Another north-south road ran from the neighbourhood of N’gazargamu, and later from Kuka (the nineteenth-century capital of Bornu), through Bauchi, to the Benue. Its termini in the Benue basin were principally Panda, Abinsi, Ibi, Wukari, and Yola. Thus large caravans from Katsina, Kano, and Bornu could carry goods from their home areas across the Sahara to the Benue basin and take back large numbers of slaves, tons of ivory, and other commodities. Crossroads from Bauchi and Wukari linked the eastern with the western route. From Wukari one could travel via Akwana and Keana, Lafia, Beriberi, and Keffi to Zaria and Kano. From Bauchi the route went through Zaranda, Dell, and also to Kano.19. Further east, as Dr Heinrich Barth demonstrated in the


middle of the nineteenth century, one could make a journey from Bornu south through the countries of the Gamergu and Bata-Nargi to Yola in the Benue Basin. From what is known of the ‘Sao’ bronzes of the Lake Chad area and of the casting traditions of southern Bornu and Adamawa, it has been suggested, though without substantiation, that it was probably through this ancient eastern corridor that knowledge of the cire perdu casting technique percolated to Igbo-Ukwu and other areas south of the Benue.20 As a matter of fact, the physical connection between the lake and the river system is not often realized now, but it was close enough to confuse the unwary or ill-informed foreigner a hundred years ago. The Benue rises in the Cameroun Republic to a height of over 3,000 feet above sea level. North-east of the sources are the Tuburi marshes occupying an extensive depression in the plateau east of the Mandara hills—a depression in some ways analogous to that formed by the Chad basin farther north. North from the Tuburi marshes runs a channel to the River Logone, whose waters flow into Lake Chad, while south-east from the same marshes issues the River Kebbi which eventually joins the Benue. This link between the Benue and Lake Chad through the marshes doubtless has something to do with the fact that the Benue was called the ‘Chadda’ in European writings of the mid-nineteenth century. Towards the south, most of the slaves, ivory, natron, and other wares from the Benue made their way down the Niger to the coast. But some slaves bearing merchandise went in caravans from Abinsi and Wukari overland to Idah and Ankpa in Igala, to Utonkon and Igumale in Idoma, and to Ibagwa and Enugu Ezike in the Nsukka area. Southwards still, the routes followed the Aro trading network through places like Amokwe and Nduzuogu, or through Nkalagu, Nike, Agbaja, and Uburu, down to Bende and Arochukwu, and thence to Calabar and Bonny on the coast.21 There was a west to north-east land route linking Ife with Ilesha, Oshogbo, Igbajo, Ila, Aiyede, and Lokoja at the NigerBenue confluence. Further south, through the labyrinth of channels, creeks, and backwaters of the Niger Delta and other rivers, a canoe could be taken from Badagry in the extreme west to the Adoni-Ibeno country in the extreme east without coming into the open sea. More than anywhere else in the Niger basin the canoe was—and still is—the unit of transport in the Delta. It is quicker, requires less labour, and permits the movement of loads too heavy for human porterage. By the beginning of the nineteenth


century, the canoe had become the pivot around which revolved the ‘canoe house’ of the Delta, a well-organized trading and fighting corporation capable of manning and maintaining a war canoe.22 The Niger has not only fostered communication and trade among the numerous inhabitants of its banks. It is also a food source, both as a breeding ground for fish and as an irrigator of the land. Seasonally flooded land (Hausa: fadama) is found all along the Niger and its tributaries. These seasonal swamps allow for year-round cultivation and even, at times, the production of two crops a year. Crops such as rice, cotton, and sugarcane can thus be cultivated in an area where the annual rainfall alone would normally not be sufficient. More recently, considerable expansion in the production of these specialized crops and of vegetables has been made possible by artificial irrigation. This has helped to even out the highly seasonal pattern of farming in parts of the savannah and semi-savannah region. However, during the rainy season the floods are so high at times that the banks of the Niger become vast swamps in places and the riverain villages can only be reached by canoe. The river has a great influence on the lives of the people who live along its banks, particularly among the Nupe and the Ijaw. Many of their activities take place in and upon the water with fishing as a primary one. Some peoples fish with nets from canoes, others with hooks positioned from these vessels, and yet others with baskets, spears, rods or even with poison. Fish have, through the centuries, been important in the Nigerian diet as a source of protein, especially in places where there is little wild game and the conditions do not favour the rearing of livestock. With the rapid growth in population, the demand and supply of fish from the Niger will continue to increase.23 The Niger, its effluents, and its affluents are also a source of recreation and sport for the riverain peoples. Swimming competitions, boat races, and regattas have been held here periodically. In 1835, during one of his trips up the Niger, John Beecroft, a British trader based at Fernando Po, engaged in a boat race with the people of Abo. They defeated him and his men and received a bullock as a prize. Most notably in the Delta, the river has also been the scene of the pomp and circumstance of state occasions. All this tradition of sport and recreation has continued to this day, as evidenced by the annual Pategi regatta and Argungu festival.


Similarly, the river has been associated with the religious as well as other aspects of the culture of the Niger peoples. In Onitsha, periodic sacrifices were made to the Niger ‘to take away the iniquities of the land’.24 In Nupe, the rituals of Ketsa (‘Juju Rock’) and Ndaduma (‘Father River’) were marked by sacrifices to the Nupe river spirits to control floods, to secure luck in fishing and trading, to cure illness and barrenness, and to provide for the general well-being of the entire riverain community.25 Among the Yoruba, the Niger (Odo Oya) is sacred to Oya, the favourite wife of Sango, one of the deified early kings of Oyo. According to another Yoruba myth, Sango had three sisters: Oya, Osun, and Oba—all names of rivers.26 To Nigerians and foreigners alike, who have contemplated this great waterway of Africa, the Niger has not been without aesthetic value. Indeed it has often been the source of enchanting experiences which have sometimes evoked fascinating rhapsodies from those exposed to them. In December 1832, Macgregor Laird, the Liverpool merchant leading the first British commercial expedition up the Niger between Idah and Lokoja, confided the following passage to his journal: In the morning we were again under weigh, and a few minutes afterwards opened one of the noblest reaches that imagination could have conceived. An immense river, about three thousand yards wide, extending as far as the eye could reach, lay before us, flowing majestically between its banks, which rose gradually to a considerable height and were studded with clumps of trees and brushwood, giving them the appearance of a gentleman’s park; while the smoke rising from different towns on its banks and the number of canoes floating on its bosom gave it an aspect of security and peace far beyond any African scene I have yet witnessed.27 Nearly ten years later, in 1841, while in the neighbourhood of Onitsha, William Allen, a British Naval officer, waxed almost poetic in an entry in his journal for 31 August: The sunset this evening was singularly beautiful. The effulgence of the glowing tints in the sky, reflected in the broad and unruffled expanse of the Niger with the rich and varied foliage on its banks, gradually fading in the distant


hills of Onechah, were such as even Turner could not have done justice to in his most gorgeous and extravagant exercise of imagination.28 To Nigerians themselves the general import of expressions like ‘flowing majestically’, ‘peace and security’, ‘broad and unruffled expanse’, employed by foreigners in describing the river system is characteristically comprised in such affectionate terms as ‘Father River’ (the Nupe name for the spirit of the Niger) and ‘Mother of Waters’ (the Bata-Margi name for the Benue). These expressions are highly significant in that the Niger-Benue system has not only always supplied the people with their means of livelihood but, in recent and remembered history, the benign Niger and its tributaries have not inflicted upon Nigerians such unutterable disasters as have been the lot of some river dwellers in other parts of the world. During the nineteenth century, the Niger played a most significant part in fostering trade between the Nigerian hinterland and Europe, and in promoting useful experiments in the fields of health and navigation. In the period 1832–54, the British demonstrated that in the right season (May-October) the Niger and its main tributary could be navigated with the appropriate steam craft manned by the proper crew. To promote such regular traffic these waterways were surveyed and charted. Thus, in a sense, the European naval and commercial adventures of the period came to build on the foundations already laid by Nigerians over the centuries, in the utilization of the principal highway of their homeland. In the course of their utilization of the Niger during the first half of the nineteenth century, the British expeditions progressively contributed to the eventual solution of the age-long problem of malaria. The Niger expedition of 1841 lost fifty-three of its 303 men within two months. But by trial and error, the doctors engaged in the expedition discovered that contrary to current belief malaria was not contagious, that the disease had a period of incubation, that with many West Africans the malady assumed a comparatively mild form, that with most patients the difference between the first and second attacks was in degree not in kind, and that no medicine was (then) as efficacious as quinine in reducing the severity of the illness.29 In 1854, owing chiefly to the preventive use of quinine, a British expedition spent sixteen weeks


on the Niger without losing even one of its complement of fiftyfour Africans and twelve Europeans. This happy event has been described as ‘an achievement worthy of rank with Captain Cook’s conquest of scurvy’.30 Much has been discovered about the causes, cure, and prevention of malaria since, but it is easy to forget the long and difficult process by which this knowledge has come down to us, and especially the important role of the Niger area in the anti-malaria drama. With the introduction of the railway towards the end of the nineteenth century, the Niger temporarily lost its pre-eminent position as a transport route. Before long, western and eastern railway lines were running parallel to the Niger for long distances, and most of the traffic between south and north was diverted from river to rail. The river was in the hands of private enterprise, for the government was not interested in improving a means of transportation that competed with the railway’.31 Finally, road transport intervened and dealt a devastating blow to the Niger and later to the railway traffic. Nevertheless, the Niger has recently been coming into its own again. Because of the deterioration in conditions in the Delta, the development of production in the hinterland of the Benue, and the difficulties encountered by the railway in transporting produce from the north, interest in the Niger began to revive after the Second World War. In the last twenty years, NEDECO (Netherlands Engineering Consultants), a Dutch firm of hydrological experts engaged by the Nigerian government, has investigated the possibility of increased and extended utilization of the Niger and the Benue. One of the results of their highly specialized reports was the construction of the Kainji Dam, an important and expensive technological venture for Nigeria. This multipurpose dam was completed in 1968 and has a planned hydro-electric capacity of 880 megawatts (MW). It is operated by the Niger Dams Authority but the producer and distributor of thermal electricity is the National Electric Power Authority (NEPA) which superseded the former Electricity Corporation of Nigeria. Kainji Dam provides an integrated system of hydro-electric power to the country through a national grid. It is accompanied by the development of national and international navigation of the Niger throughout its middle and lower course. There is now full and partial flood control on the Niger as far downstream as its


confluence with the Benue as a result of the large storage capacity of the dam’s reservoir. This control has reduced the flooding of the fadama below Jebba and allowed for the expansion of agriculture in the area. Moreover, the lake formed by the reservoir has substantially augmented the production of fish. It is estimated that after the development of the fishing industry, the annual catch of fish would exceed 10,000 tons. Furthermore, the construction of the dam has provided an alternative bridge across the Niger. Finally, with an access road from Mokwa, an airstrip in the neighbourhood, and the construction of the New Bussa residential area (equipped with electricity, water supply, sewage and storm water disposal installations, and a hospital), a national and international holiday resort on the middle Niger has been created in the far interior of Nigeria.33 Since the end of the recent Civil War in 1970, the governments of Anambra, Bendel, Niger, Kwara, and Benue States have joined to form the Central Water Transport Company. Its purpose is to explore and to utilize the increased opportunities resulting from the improved navigation of the Niger and the Benue. In so doing, the much limited services hitherto offered by private firms— notably the United Africa Company (Niger Transport Service) and John Holt—have been vastly improved. An alternative and cheaper service has been made available for the transportation of goods and passengers and for the promotion of social contact between the peoples of the hinterland and littoral of Nigeria. When the singular role of the Niger in historic and contemporary times is considered, some Nigerian national honours, in spite of their unmistakable foreign associations, have greater meaning for the people of the country. There is indeed, some sense of occasion and history enshrined in such postindependence Nigerian titles as: Officer of the Order of the Niger, Member of the Order of the Niger, Commander of the Order of the Niger. In this respect it must also be stated, the Niger is the single, all-embracing natural feature in Nigeria whose name in national decorations would not raise embarrassing political or cultural difficulties. In any event, the Niger is in no way affected by the use to which its name has been put by those in authority in its catchment area. Nor even would its functions cease because of change of regimes in these parts. And so, the independent states and communities of Nigeria may be overthrown by foreigners, foreign rulers may be


displaced by Nigerian politicians, Nigerian politicians may be dislodged by Nigerian soldiers, Nigeria herself may be engrossed in protracted and fratricidal civil war, the warring sons and daughters of Nigeria may be reconciled and live in peace and concord again; but, as it has always done, the Niger will continue to flow in its inexorable way for the well-being of all its peoples till the end of time. NOTES 1. Dr Martin Leake, Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, London, 2 (1832). 2. M.D.W.Jeffreys, ‘Niger: origins of the word’, Cahiers d’Études Africaines, 4, 15 (1964), 443–51. 3. William Cole, Life in the Niger, or Journal of an African Trader, London, 1862, passim. 4. Public Record Office, London (PRO), Foreign Office Papers (FO) 2/ 23, Baikie to President of the Royal Geographical Society, 9/1/1856, encl. in Murchison to Clarendon, 29/1/1856. FO 2/31, Baikie to Malmesbury, 2/3/1859. 5. NEDECO (Netherlands Engineering Consultants), River Studies and Recommendations on Improvement of the Niger and Benue, Amsterdam, 1959. 6. But with the completion of the Niger Dam Project, it is now possible to navigate the river throughout its lower-middle course in Nigeria, a distance of nearly 800 miles, and upstream into the Niger Republic, a total distance of well over 1,000 miles. 7. Richard and John Lander, Journal of an Expedition to Explore the Course and Termination of the Niger, 3 vols., London, 1832, vol. 3, pp. 95–112, and 144–55. 8. W.B.Baikie, Narrative of an Exploring Voyage up the Rivers Kwora and Binue in 1854, London, 1856, p.436. 9. Macgregor Laird, Remedies for the Slave Trade, London, 1842, Appendix B, p.57. 10. R. and J.Lander, Journal of an Expedition, vol. 3, 189–211. This sum has to be multiplied by 10 to obtain an approximation to its present-day equivalent. 11. PRO, CO 2/24, encl. 3 in Allen to Stanley, 5/2/1843. Macgregor Laird and R.A.K.Oldfield, Narrative of an Expedition into the Interior of Africa, 2 vols., London, 1837, vol. 1, pp.98–9. F.I. Nzimiro, ‘Chieftaincy and politics in four Niger states’, Ph.D. thesis, University of Cambridge, 1966, pp.37–52.


12. Laird and Oldfield, vol. 2, pp.186ff. PRO, CO 2/19, 3034 African Mission, Lander to Hay, 9/5/1833. 13. Marion Johnson, ‘The cowrie currencies of West Africa’, Journal of African History, 11, 1 (1970), 17–49; 3, (1970) 331–53. 14. Laird and Oldfield, vol. 1, p.175. See also R. and J.Lander, Journal of an Expedition, vol. 1, pp.53–4; and S.Crowther, Journal of an Expedition up the Niger and Tshadda Rivers…in 1854, London, 1855, pp. 202–4. 15. J.C.Anene, ‘Liaison and competition between sea and land routes in international trade from the 15th century—the Central Sudan and North Africa’, in Les Grandes Voies Maritimes Dans le Monde, Paris, 1966. 16. S.F.Nadel, A Black Byzantium: The Kingdom of Nupe in Nigeria, London, 1942, p.407, et passim. 17. S.Crowther and J.C.Taylor, The Gospel on the Banks of the Niger 1857–59, London, 1859, pp.97–8 and 209. Richard and John Lander, Journal of an Expedition, vol. 2, 313–4. 18. E.W.Bovill, The Golden Trade of the Moors, Oxford, 1958, pp. 239–41. 19. Heinrich Barth, Travels and Discoveries in North and Central Africa… in the Years 1849–1855, 3 vols., London, 1965, vol. 1, 609–31; vol. 2, 361–424. 20. C.T.Shaw, Igbo-Ukwu: An account of Archaeological Discoveries in Eastern Nigeria, 2 vols., Evanston, 1970, p.272. 21. CO 2/24, encl. 3 in Allen to Stanley, 5/2/1834; W.Allen and T.R.H. Thomson, Narrative of the Expedition into the River in 1841, 2 vols., London, 1848, vol. 1, pp.377–8; F.Ekejiuba, The Aro system of trade in the nineteenth century’, Ikenga, Nsukka, 1, 1 (Jan. 1972), 11–26. 22. K.O.Dike, Trade and Politics in the Niger Delta, London, 1956, pp. 34–7; G.I.Jones, The Trading States of the Oil Rivers, London, 1963, pp.55–6. 23. NEDECO, op. cit. 24. G.I.Basden, Niger Ibos, London, 1938, pp.69–70. 25. S.F.Nadel, Nupe Religion, London, 1954, pp.84–90. 26. S.Johnson, The History of the Yorubas, Lagos, 1921, pp.36–7. 27. Laird and Oldfield, op. cit., vol. 1, p.138. 28. Allen and Thomson, op. cit., vol. 1, p.271. 29. J.O.McWilliam, Medical History of the Expedition to the River Niger during the Years 1841–42, London, 1843, passim. 30. C.Lloyd, The Navy and the Slave Trade, London, 1949, p.138. 31. The Economic Development of Nigeria: Report of a Mission Organized by the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, Lagos, 1954, p.338.


32. Federal Government of Nigeria: Niger Dams Authority, Niger Dams Project: A Brief Description, London, and The Hague, 1963, pp.1–6.

36

4 Political History of the City States of Old Calabar, 1820–60 M.Efiong Noah

Calabar, the capital of the Cross River State of Nigeria, derived its name from ‘Old Calabar’ by a government proclamation of 10 August 1904 which directed that ‘the chief town in this Protectorate hitherto known as “Old Calabar” shall in future be called “Calabar”.’1 The precise geographical area of Old Calabar is difficult to determine but it seems to have extended to parts of modern Cameroun to the east of the (then) Bight of Biafra and shared a common boundary with the Ijaw in the Niger Delta. It had a very extensive hinterland which included the present Ibibio and Ogoja with the Igbo of the Anambra State forming its northern limit. Neither the origin of its name nor the origin of the Efik who are the present inhabitants of Calabar falls within the province of this study. It does seem, however, that the emergence of the various Efik polities at the turn of the eighteenth century presented the culmination of the southward movement of the Ibibio toward the mouth of the Cross River. This is borne out by the fact that earlier writers on this area did provide some useful details which, when supplemented with recent research, become more meaningful with regards to the peopling of the Niger Delta. For instance, Dapper, who wrote around 1686, mentioned Moko as the people who occupied the Rio Real area.2 Rio Real in this case should be interpreted to mean the Cross River instead of the combined estuary of the New Calabar and Bonny rivers which Kimble designates.3 There is abundant evidence to show that river names at least in the Niger Delta region frequently changed. Samuel Blomart’s map (Paris) of 1679 shows the Cross River as Rio del Rey while Carrington Bowles’ map, published in London in 1771, designates the same river as Rio Real.


If Rio Real is designated as the combined estuary of the New Calabar and Bonny rivers, a more confused picture is presented. It is known that Moko was the name by which Ibibio slaves were known in the Caribbean islands.4 There is nothing in Ibibio tradition of origin that suggests that they ever lived in the estuary of the New Calabar River. Chief Bassey Udo Adiaha Attah who was interviewed in the course of the present research was of the opinion that the Ibibio never occupied Kalabari region which would be in the direction of the New Calabar river estuary.5 The same point of view was held by Chief Okon Eyo, who intimated that if anything, the Ibibio evolved around Uruan vicinity.6 In a recent interview, Chief Nyong Essien opined that the area known as Calabar was ‘Ibibio country’.7 Since there is substantial evidence that the Ibibio never occupied Ijaw region (Kimble’s Rio Real) and given the discrepancies arising from the assignation of names to the rivers of the Niger Delta, it seems plausible to interpret Rio Real to mean the Cross River, in the light of other known evidence. On the other hand, by designating Rio Real to mean the Cross River, it becomes understandable why Dapper located the Moko in the Rio Real region. Moreover, Barbot shows the names of William King Agbisherea and Robin King Agbisherea as some of the chiefs from whom he obtained provisions in 1698 when he visited the Cross River.8 Agbisherea was another name for Ibibio, and this would illustrate that the Ibibio were directly trading with the Europeans at the coast before the emergence of the city states, when they were eventually cut off by the political authorities of the emergent states. This is not intended to be a full study of Efik migrations, even though it deserves a full investigation, but for the purpose of this study, suffice it to say that prior to the emergence of the Efik polities, there were clusters of Ibibio settlements in Creek Town, Tom Shotts (Efiat), and in the general vicinity presently known as Calabar. BACKGROUND TO POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT Information regarding the political history of the various Efik polities before the eighteenth century is scanty. But enough evidence survives to permit reliable speculation about their structure prior to the emergence of these city states as the foci of power politics. The period marking the emergence of the city states

CITY STATES OF OLD CALABAR 39

cannot be ascertained with any degree of precision. The periodization of this study could not therefore be regarded as coincidental with this emergence but is indicative of significant political developments within the city states, internally and externally. The significance of this date relates to the abolition of the slave trade by Great Britain in 1807 and, thanks to the British Navy, the subsequent enforcement of the abolition legislation on the high seas. From 1819, the Royal Naval Squadron had begun a systematic patrol of West African waters to translate the abolition decree into practical reality. Whether the British abolition legislation was inspired by humanitarian considerations or by economic and political necessity has been a subject of considerable historical debate. It is inconceivable that a people as pragmatic as the British would have yielded to humanitarian pressure were it not congruent with British industrial designs as well as the political developments in Europe. Whatever the motive behind the abolition, the legislation of 1807 was significant principally because it provided Britain with a legal base from which she was able to redirect West African trade to suit her industrial needs. By the time of abolition, it was obvious that the slave trade had become economically obsolete, at least for an industrializing Britain. What England needed most after labour, which had now been supplied by machines, was oil to lubricate the machines as well as soap for her factory workers.9 Britain also needed a stable market for the manufactured goods and in each of these needs, West Africa offered an immediate and most welcome answer, if only the trade in slaves could be suppressed. The point that has often been ignored is that British abolition of the slave trade was simply commercial foresightedness. Because of her treaties and her naval supremacy, it was Great Britain who determined the legitimacy of West African commodities for the rest of the world. At the time that Britain required slaves, of course, slave trade was legitimate but, when she changed from a strictly agricultural nation to an industrialized one, Britain realized that her vital needs were markets and raw materials. Slave trade and its attendant disruption of settled life did not augur well for either the production of the needed raw materials nor the markets for the finished products. The answer lay in outlawing the trade in slaves. The effect of the abolition legislation on the West African scene was varied but the most important political effect was the


increased number of European traders along the coast as well as the lengthened period of their stay. Prior to abolition, a cargo of slaves could be obtained within a short period of time. When the emphasis shifted to palm oil, it took longer for each European trader to obtain a full cargo of this item and they ‘found it more profitable to maintain in each Oil River port, a permanent establishment consisting of an agent’ in an attempt to reduce the length of stay of their crew in an ‘unhealthy’ climate; by 1862, the number of these traders, most of whom were British, had grown to three hundred in Calabar.10 As the European population increased, so did their interference in Calabar politics. Though the majority of the merchants along the Niger Delta were British, it must be pointed out that British official policy did not favour direct government participation. Britain had nothing to lose so long as her merchants represented her interests in that part of the globe. As the dominant sea power, English products could reach any part of the world with a minimum of delay. A.P.Thornton observes that this maritime supremacy had the effect of making England ‘the immediate neighbor of any country that had a coastline’, but that it was difficult to appreciate how British trade could thrive in a ‘savage’ land without a clear governmental policy or at least a British police force to protect her traders and a British managerial class to organize the trade.11 To understand the political development of Old Calabar during this period, a contrast of the interests of the European traders with those of the Efik is necessary. Politics and commerce went hand in hand. While a favourable commercial position could influence politics, the latter was a vital corollary to successful trading because, as it operated in Calabar, politics conveniently served as an arm-twisting mechanism designed to produce commercial gains. A recognition of this alliance between politics and commerce is therefore crucial before one can deal with this topic in any meaningful way. THE CITY STATES By 1820, the political power in Old Calabar was centered on the city states of Duke Town, Creek Town, Old Town, and Henshaw Town. The designation of these towns as city states seems justified by the fact that each of them was autonomous with


separate rulers, bureaucracy, and laws. Waddell, a contemporary writer, observed that ‘the towns of Calabar, are, in fact, a number of small republics, each with its own chief and council, united only by Egbo confraternity.’12 The people of Henshaw town even claim that Duke Town was once under its authority.13 After the brother of the founder of Henshaw Town had broken away to found Duke Town, the two towns had to ‘live separately, each under its own laws and government’.14 It is remarkable that this claim to seniority by the Henshaw Town people is still evident up till the present. This writer was in-formed that the average Henshaw Town man always considers himself as a descendant of the original founder of a large segment of Efik settlement now known as Atakpa (Duke Town).15 It is also evident that the only institution that linked the city states together was the Egbo Society and this was prompted mainly by the common commercial interest shared by all of them. However, it must be pointed out that by the turn of the eighteenth century, Duke Town had not only successfully established its ascendancy over all the Efik city states in Calabar mainland, but had virtually monopolized trade with Europeans. As an index of this political and economic dominance, the population of Duke Town far exceeded that of all the other city states. Hutchinson recorded in 1858 that Duke Town had a population of ‘at least four thousand’ while Henshaw Town had only a hundred and twenty inhabitants.16 Creek Town, the oldest of the Efik city states, had 3,000 people and there is no doubt that Old Town trailed behind Creek Town in terms of population. Hope Waddell observed in 1857 that it was a small town, ‘being greatly reduced from its former importance’ on account of the treachery of the Duke Town chiefs with the collaboration of the European traders which resulted in the massacre of over three hundred inhabitants of Old Town in 1767.17 Edward Bold remarked in 1821 that Duke Ephraim of Duke Town was not only the principal trader, but that he received: a third more than anyone else for his oil, which difference is paid in salt… He is a good man, and it is of the utmost importance to keep on a friendly footing with him, for his influence amongst the tradesmen being absolute and so predominant, that in the event of dispute, he has it in his power to do much injury to your operations. It is even


recommended to give him a better assortment of goods and to humour him as far as circumstances would permit.18 But it must be remarked that the dominance of Duke Town during the period of this study is valid only when confined to Calabar mainland (comprising Duke Town, Henshaw Town, and Old Town). As will be shown below, the fortunes of Duke Town were much more unstable and fluctuating when compared with that of Creek Town. Although Duke Town did succeed in establishing itself over Creek Town in 1820 following the death of King Oyo I, this was temporary and probably was never complete as it was not until 1862 that the king of Duke Town was entitled to an equal amount of comey (port dues paid by European traders to leading African merchants) with the King of Creek Town.19 The rise of Duke Town during this period over the rest of the Efik city states was not a matter of accident. Its geographical location contributed immensely to its eminence due to Duke Town’s better anchorage than Creek Town’s and to its convenience to merchant vessels. Moreover, agents of these foreign trading firms did not hesitate to support Duke Town or to fan the flames of enmity between the various city states as long as such actions enhanced their own vital interests. As will be illustrated in the political analysis of the various Efik city states, the beginning of this period marked the lowest ebb of Creek Town fortunes. Hope Waddell reported that after the ruin and death of King Eyo I in 1820, the old metropolis was deserted and Creek Town ‘soon fell into such ruin, that the bush grew in the courtyards of forsaken mansions and tigers prowled through the grass-grown streets in open day’.20 Creek Town King Eyo I died in 1820 after having successfully established law and order in most parts of Calabar. He subjected the Adadia people who claimed to have been the original inhabitants of Creek Town21 and through his honest dealings and trade integrity earned the title of ‘Honesty’. King Eyo Honesty I steered Creek Town to an era of prosperity because ‘the best and most indefatigible traders are the Creek Town people’.22 Through his statecraft and bravery, he earned the title of King following his successful exploits against the people of Adadia.23 It was even customary ‘to


give him two more coppers (local currency) than the rest, for what oil he sells’ in order to maintain his patronage.24 He was a great warrior and very popular among his people even though he had usurped the royal authority of Creek Town.25 Henry Nicholls noted in his letter in 1805 that King Eyo Honesty was about six feet tall and was the head of the Egbo Society of Creek Town26 but that through his wealth and influence, he had completely eclipsed the authority of the actual ruler of the city state. After spending some time with Eyo Honesty, Nicholls called upon the king, who in fact ‘is nobody being a nominal title, the traders possessing all the power. The king is a very old man, at least eighty years of age, but does not appear in the least infirm, but very thin and his skin is much wrinkled’.27 It can thus be perceived that even before the death of the old, wrinkled king, Eyo Honesty was the actual ruler of Creek Town in every way but name. Located about eight miles from Duke Town, with a population of about fifteen hundred inhabitants at the turn of the nineteenth century,28 Creek Town rivalled Duke Town both commercially and politically. Through a combination of inefficient rulers and of intrigues by Duke Town and the British supercargoes, Creek Town finally lost its political leadership. The inflexible opposition of Ephraim of Duke Town finally led to King Eyo’s ruin. As the Eyamba of the Egbo Society, a higher rank than that of Ebongo held by King Eyo, Duke Ephraim used his position to trump up a charge against King Eyo. Hope Waddell remarked that though the charge was trumpery, it sufficed.29 Eyo was accused of being a usurper and that his marriage to a girl from the Ambo family was not sufficient to make him royal.30 Consequently, Eyo was hauled out to answer to Egbo charges and was condemned to pay a fine which was so high that it ruined him; ‘they ate him up’, or, as they ex-pressed it, ‘chopped him all to nothing’.31 Eyo was succeeded by a brother, a rather rash and proud person who was completely unequal to the task that confronted him. Duke Ephraim took advantage of this weakness to increase his power. The fortunes of Creek Town continued to decline until Eyo Eyo worked his way up the social ladder and reversed them. Before he became king of Creek Town, Eyo Eyo had served under Duke Ephraim where he acquired his trade techniques. He had sailed to the West Indies and to Liverpool in connection with his business and had acquired enough capital to become, after the death of Duke Ephraim, the richest man in the four Efik city states.32 With


wealth came power and Eyo Eyo proclaimed a festival inviting the country to be his guest and he entertained prodigiously for two weeks.33 The manner by which Eyo Eyo was able to convince Creek Town people that he was wealthy enough to be made king is interesting. He is said to have laid a pavement of boxes of brass and copper rods, each worth about five pounds sterling, on the street that connected his palace with his town house. Eyo then proceeded to walk all the way on these boxes so that his feet never touched the ground. The people of Creek Town thenceforth never doubted his wealth and gladly crowned Eyo Eyo king of Creek Town in a market place, in the midst of his relatives, friends, and bodyguard.34 The date of the coronation is difficult to ascertain. Jones claims that Eyo Eyo might have established his fortune and con-sequently that of Creek Town in 1825 and that the coronation might have occurred ten years later.35 What is certain is that his father died in 1820 and that he was crowned king after the death of Duke Ephraim of Duke Town in 1834. With the death of Duke Ephraim and the coronation of King Eyo II shortly thereafter, the politics of Old Calabar became a straight fight between Ephraim’s successor, King Eyamba V, and the new king of Creek Town. The coronation of Eyo Honesty II was an event that annoyed King Eyamba exceedingly. This is borne out by the fact that he forbade the captains along the river to salute King Eyo whenever the latter would visit their ships.36 In a paroxysm of rage, King Eyamba had threatened to put King Eyo in chains and even made a feeble attempt to impose fines on those captains who accorded King Eyo the royal salute.37 But Eyo, on the other hand ‘demanded his honours and would not trade with any who withheld them’, and since his trade had become the most important in the country, he had his way.38 In response to Eyamba’s boastings that he would put him in chains, King Eyo quietly prepared his armed forces and descended the river to Duke Town where he ‘offered’ himself to Eyamba and asked the latter to put him in chains. Eyamba, taken quite aback, tried to explain and laugh it off as a joke before he offered Eyo some drinks. No, No, Eyo told him that he never drank wine and that he had not come to make play, but to see if Eyamba was fit to chain him. If he could not do that, there was no need to remain


longer. So saying he departed as suddenly as he had arrived leaving Duke Town, King and people, confounded at his cool audacity, and returned to Creek Town in triumph.39 Literate, wealthy and powerful, King Eyo managed the affairs of Creek Town with consummate, albeit machiavellian, skill and ruined his health through his titanic labours. He is said to have inaugurated some reforms in the laws and customs of Creek Town, especially those that dealt with twin-mothers.40 It is not clear under what authority Eyo sent Egbo to be blown at Duke Town, especially as each of the city states was autonomous and laws passed by one city state were not binding to the others. As a contemporary of King Eyamba V of Duke Town, Eyo would only have been expected to confer with the King of Duke Town while the latter would have had the responsibility of causing Egbo to be blown in his town. Yet in 1856, King Eyo Honesty II used Egbo authority to regulate the affairs of Duke Town.41 If nothing else, it illustrates the extent of Eyo’s influence and power. In 1858, Eyo suffered from a heart attack and was treated by Dr Hewan, the mission doctor.42 But he died a few weeks later, leaving his son, Young Eyo, as his successor (Eyo Honesty III). He left his son a powerful state and respectable finances because in the meeting held on the steamship Myrmidon, Eyo had successfully insisted that two-thirds of all duty paid by the traders should belong to the King of Creek Town while a third was to go to the King of Duke Town.43 That this arrangement had to be changed in 1862 illustrates not only the personality of Eyo Honesty III but also the waxing power of Duke Town. Old Town (Obutong) In 1928, M.D.W.Jeffreys found a round ball of granite reportedly dug out by Rev K.MacGregor from the compound of Calabar’s oldest secondary school, Hope Waddell Institute, and therefore opined that the granite could have been none other than one used by Black Roberts when he bombarded Old Town in 1721.44 Roberts had put into Calabar bar to clean and restock his ship, but finding the people of Old Town unwilling to have any commercial dealings with him (probably because he was a pirate), Roberts set fire to the town and escaped to Cape Lopez.45 Whether this


incident occurred after Edem Efiom and Adim Atai had moved from Creek Town to Old Town is not very significant at this point.46 Rather, it is more significant to note that Creek Town was the oldest Efik settlement47 and that all subsequent Efik settlements migrated from Creek Town. However, events illustrate that by 1721, Obutong was a commercial entrepôt of no little significance. By the middle of the eighteenth century, Old Town had become so prosperous that it incurred the jealousy of the fledgling Duke Town rulers. In a conspiracy of 1767, Duke Town massacred over three hundred nobles of Old Town with the aid of the British supercargoes.48 Those who were not murdered were consigned to slavery in the West Indies along with their king. Thereafter, the future of Old Town rested on the skills and leadership of Tom Robbins, King George, and Otto Ephraim.49 With Anansa as the tutelary guardian and its economy crippled, Old Town in the early nineteenth century presented such a melancholy picture of decline in the political organization of Old Calabar that it practically could not deny anything to anyone. Henry Nicholls noted in 1805 that Walker, master of a vessel from Liverpool, detained Willy Tom (ruler of Old Town at that time) until the latter had produced six slaves in lieu of one who was missing. Willy Tom had saved Walker from an attack by a French slaver when he advised him to empty his cargo of slaves to his care while Walker went into hiding in order to avoid the attack. When all had calmed, Walker returned but found that Willy Tom was one slave deficient. The slave had run away but Walker would take no explanation. Walker went ahead and detained Willy Tom on charges of embezzlement but the latter made his escape by leaping overboard.50 It is maintained that the detention was instigated by Duke Town51 obviously to further cripple Old Town. There is no doubt that as rivals of Old Town, Duke Ephraim of Duke Town and Eyo Honesty I were only too ready to interpret the incident in the worst possible light and to turn everything into calumny. Willy Tom then attacked Duke Town but with no apparent results. In fact, Willy Tom might have hurled a few imprecations on the Grand Duke who had already distinguished himself as the principal merchant on Old Calabar River.52 Old Town maintained its sovereignty as best it could, and, on account of its site, ‘beautifully situated on a steep ascent’, captured


the admiration of the Presbyterian missionaries and a school was opened in 1846.53 Even by this time, Hope Waddell found that Old Town had not fully recovered from the effect of the 1767 massacre which had compelled her people to leave the foreign trade wholly to its rivals.54 According to Waddell, the reigning king, Willy Tom Robbins, eked out a living mainly through cultivation not only because Old Town had large plantations on the upper parts of the Qua River, but also because the Obutong people had been hemmed in by both Duke Town and Creek Town and could therefore not go up or down the Calabar River in safety.55 The missionary presence precipitated the complete economic, and political ruination of Old Town. As the super-cargoes had done before them, the missionaries took advantage of Old Town’s weakness and contemptuously attacked the religious principles of Calabar. In 1849, Rev Edgerley entered Old Town ‘Palaver House’ and broke the sacred drum.56 His explanation for this impudence was that an Egbo man had flogged a schoolboy who was going through the town ringing the school bell to summon the youths to school.57 Waddell mediated and apologized for Edgerley’s impetuosity though he still placed the blame on Egbo men of Old Town.58 As a way of avoiding future confrontation, he offered a peace formula to the effect that Egbo bell should retire when the school bell was ringing and vice versa.59 He blamed Willy Tom Robbins for the incident because he had deserted Old Town for over three months to the plantations allowing Egbo men to do as they wished.60 Reverend Edgerley, who had the support of the supercargoes as well as an assurance of a gunboat, was bent on creating more confrontations. In 1854, Old Town people charged him of sacrilege because he had broken an egg in the Anansa shrine.61 His overbearing attitude had so aroused the anger of the population that they followed him ‘from the beach to his home’, brandishing sticks and cutlasses.62 Edgerley was quick to interpret this action as constituting a threat to his personal safety. A meeting was called to listen to Old Town charges and Edgerley sought to conceal his guilt by introducing irrelevant matters which, according to Hope Waddell, dragged in ‘many irritating things with which the present meeting had nothing to do’.63 Edgerley lost his case because, in addition to the above, ‘he gesticulated so much and imitated the actions and voices of the people so frequently brandishing his stock that the on-lookers were sometimes laughing and sometimes


surprised and [Waddell] was excessively annoyed at the want of prudence and dignity which all this manifested’.64 The supercargoes saw the trial differently. To them, it was an insult that a white man should be arraigned before a court with Africans presiding and they resolved that Old Town affairs would be decided by a man-of-war.65 In January 1855, the supercargoes had come out with a casus belli to the effect that several people were immolated in 1854 following the death of Willy Tom Robbins, King of Old Town. According to them, that action violated the treaty of 185066 which prohibited human sacrifices. It has to be pointed out that the so-called human sacrifices did not always involve the actual killing of human beings. What was principally involved was that upon the death of any person of importance, suspects would be subjected to oath by the Esere bean since most deaths were attributed to witchcraft. Those who died from this oath were regarded by the missionaries as sacrifices. It is also remarkable that Old Town was not a signatory to the treaty of 1850. However, the supercargoes proceeded and invited the gunboat Antelope, with Captain Young commanding. Acting Consul Lynslager who had recently succeeded Consul Beecroft was immature and inexperienced in the affairs of the Old Calabar River. But as it turned out, the supercargoes profited from his inexperience. When the gunboat arrived with Lynslager, the supercargoes presented a prepared statement against the people of Old Town, and invited Edgerley, of all persons, as their witness. Consequently, they won the day and when Lynslager asked what should be done, ‘the river gentlemen cried out, destroy the town’.67 Lynslager then ordered the missionaries to vacate Old Town though the latter protested that the decision was too extreme,68 especially as the only evidence at the disposal of the Consul was that prepared by the supercargoes. However, Lynslager could not be prevailed upon and the missionaries had to be evacuated by paddle-box boats with the aid of some Kroomen.69 On 19 January 1855, the Antelope anchored in front of Old Town and commenced the destruction with shots and shells. What was not destroyed by shell was set on fire by a party of men led by Second Master, Mr Watts. Later that evening, some Kroomen and marines landed and levelled everything to the ground.70


It is clear that the weight of the responsibility for the destruction of Old Town rests with the missionaries although Nair argues that this line of reasoning is tantamount to absolving the supercargoes. Their letter to the Acting Consul deploring the decision to destroy Old Town should not be accepted at face value. As a matter of fact, after the destruction of Old Town, Anderson and Edgerley told Lynslager that the destruction was ‘a well-merited punishment on the town; but that as missionaries of the church they were bound to protest against such proceedings’.71 Old Town was not rebuilt until the following year when Consul Hutchinson persuaded the chiefs to sign a treaty with the British abolishing ‘human sacrifices’.72 But then, it was signed under the threat of British cannons as the chiefs did not regard administering oath to suspects as constituting human sacrifice. Duke Town (Atakpa) From the middle of the eighteenth century the political history of Duke Town presents a chronicle of intense rivalry with the other Efik city states. It does not seem, however, that Duke Town succeeded in establishing its dominance before 1767. Even then it was limited to mainland Calabar because Creek Town, on the other side of the river, was more established than Duke Town during this period. The fortunes of Duke Town were not established overnight. Barbot mentioned ‘duke aprom’ as one of the chiefs from whom he bought provisions in 1698 while the Dragon was at the Old Calabar river.73 The city itself was named after Duke Ephraim whose death occurred in 1786.74 He was the same person whose reign marked the elimination of Old Town as a political force in the Old Calabar river. His reign therefore marked the political and economical ascendance of Duke Town over the other Efik city states and the culmination of a long struggle in this regard. With capable rulers, Duke Town brought a vast area of the hinterland into its political orbit, an event which won for Duke Town the large oil markets of the hinterland. The eighteenth century was a period of transition from an economy that was heavily stimulated by the slave trade to one in which palm oil was eventually to dominate. Duke Town made this transition though not without some agony. For instance, when Henry Nicholls visited Duke Town in 1805, he found the reigning


Egbo Young Eyambo (Eyamba III) very cold in his reception. Eyamba III wanted to know whether Nicholls was sent by Mr Wilberforce whose anti-slave trade activities in Britain had become a household word among the major slave dealers on the west coast of Africa or whether Nicholls had come to build forts; Nicholls replied that he had come for neither of those purposes but that he was sent ‘by some great men in my country to endeavour to find out dye-woods and other things, to increase their trade, and do good for all Calabar’. The dubious monarch was blunt in his reply and told Nicholls that if he came from Mr Wilberforce that they would kill him.75 This incident illustrates that the king certainly preferred the trade in slaves to anything else. The king’s concern about forts stemmed from his fear that once the traders were allowed to erect any structure on the coast, they would use this as a pretext for taking over the country. That was why the king insisted that all trading should be done from hulks moored at sea. In 1814, Eyamba III died76 and the vacancy to the throne was filled by no less a person than Efiom Ekpo Efiom, the Great Duke Ephraim, who, according to Grant, was one of the most powerful chiefs on the West Coast of Africa and a very practised trader: ‘Duke Ephraim is remarkably keen in trade and will haggle in the making of a bargain in a manner that shows how perfectly he understands the doctrine of self-interest’.77 He is said to have had two hundred wives78 most of whom were employed in assisting the Duke ‘in arranging, taking care of, and remembering’ agreements and promissory notes relevant to his trade.79 Versed in the art of reading and writing80 Duke Ephraim entered into an agreement with Captain Owen in which he agreed to supply Owen with three hundred pounds of meat per day for use by officers at Clarence in Fernando Po for a period of one year.81 In 1830, John Beecroft noted how he bought oxen and sheep from Duke Ephraim for over £890 sterling.82 With his wealth, Ephraim bought up all the grades of Egbo and brought a trumped-up charge against King Eyo Honesty I whose wealth had inspired his greatest jealousy. Eyo Honesty was ruined and after his death in 1820, Creek Town became a second-rate political power, principally because of the ineptitude of Eyo’s successor. It can be said that the period between 1820 and 1834 was a period when Duke Town out-matched all other Efik city states politically and commercially. Ephraim staunchly opposed European penetration of his markets nor did he allow them to form


settlements on the shore.83 All the trading had to be done from hulks. The fall of Creek Town did not satisfy the Duke’s desire for expansion. After having reduced Tom Shotts Island to a tributepaying state, Ephraim fought to bring Odukpani and Akpabuyo as well as other oil-producing towns on the Cross River into his economic control. Notably among these were the oil markets of Nwaniba, Umon, Itu, and Enyong. It should be pointed out that the degree of control exercised by Duke Town over these places was very tenuous. In 1846, King Eyamba was forced to personally lead a punitive expedition to Umon but suffered a setback when his soldiers were ambushed by the Umon people.84 A war council was immediately held at a safe distance. King Eyamba offered the leadership of the expedition to Egbo Jack who quickly declined, then Adam Duke was made War Minister85 but after further consultation, the expedition was called off. Suffice it to say, that Duke Town reached the apogee of its power during the period 1820 to 1834. Thereafter, Creek Town called the tune and even after 1862, when Duke Town can be said to have made some noticeable recovery as reflected in the favourable trade treaty of that year,86 it was no longer able to maintain even a pretence of the splendour and power characteristic of the days of the Great Duke. Moreover, Hutchinson estimated in 1858 that the population of Duke Town was about four thousand, a marked decline from the six thousand recorded by Richard and John Lander in 1831.87 But Hutchinson noted the existence of the Duke Town palaver house, which according to him, was a species of senatorial forum ‘where all legislative matters of the country, the municipal affairs of the town, “palavers” and public or private matters are discussed and settled by the King and the Egbos’.88 It must be admitted though that neither the reign of King Eyamba V (1834–47) nor that of King Archibong I (1849–52) equalled the brilliance of the reign of Duke Ephraim. It stands to the credit of King Eyamba V that it was during his reign that the Presbyterian mission was established in Calabar. He was one of the signatories to the letter that invited the missionaries to Calabar. It has been customary to regard Eyamba’s invitation to the missionaries as the first one, but closer investigation shows that he was merely reiterating an earlier request by Duke Ephraimin 1828.89


King Eyamba and King Archibong did collaborate with the British authorities in signing treaties abolishing the slave trade in 1841.90 Nevertheless, neither ruler was master of his own house because of the interference of the European traders in Efik political development. Their reigns marked a period when, through a combination of cajolery, intimidation, and bombardment, the British concluded ‘treaties’ designed to strengthen their entrenchment in the Old Calabar river. In other words, the period from 1834 to 1885 was an era when the pen was recognizably mightier than the sword, even though the sword had to be used whenever the pen proved inadequate in realizing certain goals. Henshaw Town (Nsidung) The history of Henshaw Town has been neglected largely because of its location and its historical past. As an offshoot of Duke Town, its separate identity as one of the Efik polities has often been left in abeyance and more often than not, subsumed into the history of Duke Town. Since it was and still is located so close to Duke Town, the brilliance of Henshaw Town was often eclipsed by that of the former and travellers and contemporary writers only had the courtesy of noting its existence and nothing more. In the testimony of Etubom Ekpenyong Efiok Asama before the Hart Commission, it was noted that Henshaw Town was founded by Nsa Efiom who was the eldest brother of Offiong Okoho and Efiom Okoho, original founders of Duke Town.91 Ansa Efiom, as is shown in the genealogical chart below,92 shared the same father with Okoho Efiom who was the mother of the twin brothers, Offiong Okoho and Efiom Okoho. Through the process of segmentation, Offiong Okoho and Efiom Okoho founded Duke Town where they lived with their uncle, Ansa Efiom, until the latter founded Henshaw Town. The chart below is the genealogy of Efiom Ekpo, father to Okoho Efiom. Having broken away from Duke Town, the political history of Henshaw Town was marked by a determination to free itself from the dominance of the latter. The attempts at independence were violent in nature, and sometimes unhappy in results. The cause of the split between the Duke Town family and that of Henshaw goes back to the foundation of Duke Town. According to Hart, as Atakpa grew, the children of Okoho determined to become an independent community and were constrained to erect an Egbo


shed; trouble arose over who should erect the principal pillar in front of the Egbo shed.93 The family of Ansa Efiom insisted that it was their right since the first two kings of Duke Town were from the Henshaw family.94 They therefore argued that as descendants of the eldest male child, custom expected that they should be granted this right. But the children of Okoho stood in opposition. While conceding that Ansa was the eldest and head, they insisted that his headship was applicable only when they resided in Creek Town.95 They argued that since the new settlement of Atakpa was founded by Offiong Okoho and Efiom Okoho, the incident had conferred a de facto headship and seniority on them. On account of the superiority of numbers of the children of Okoho, they erected the pillar thereby obliging the people of Ansa to leave Duke Town in anger. Up to the beginning of the nineteenth century, Henshaw Town was nothing more than an average-size village. Nicholls noted in 1805 that its population did not exceed three hundred inhabitants96 and it seems that by 1830, Henshaw Town had lost its population to other Efik settlements. Richard Lander observed that there were only about one hundred and twenty people.97 Outnumbered, Henshaw Town maintained a precarious existence and


upon the arrival of the Scottish missionaries in 1846, the former turned to the latter for friendship and support. But Henshaw Town was to learn the bitter way that power in the Old Calabar river favoured the rich, and that it could not seek the missionary support without making substantial sacrifices of the ‘old ways’ in favour of what the missionaries advocated. Since the people of Henshaw Town knew what they wanted from the missionaries, they became good churchgoers and tried to Westernize as much as they could. Anderson estimated that half the Sabbath congregation of Duke Town came from Henshaw Town, and was better dressed and used books better than the people of Duke Town.98 But behind this façade of religious devotion was the desire of Henshaw Town to win missionary support in their bid for independence against the Duke Town people. In 1870, Henshaw Town rose in rebellion against Duke Town authority but without the missionary support upon which they had counted. Even though the missionaries were without arms, Henshaw Town people had hoped that as co-religionists, the missionaries would influence both the supercargoes and, eventually, the Consul to come to their aid. Even if the missionaries had made the attempt, it startled the people of Henshaw Town to realize that both the supercargoes and the Consul were more interested in trade than the question of who subjected the people to its rule. It was a small matter to them so long as that subjection did not result in any major conflagration to disrupt the trade. The revolt then was a miscalculation and Henshaw Town was so defeated that they moved away from their side of the city to a spot about twenty miles west of Tom Shotts Point.99 Hardly a year had passed when Henshaw Town decided to rebuild their abandoned city. They had resolved that this would be done under their own king. In a letter to Consul Hopkins they solicited the support of both the Consul and the super-cargoes.100 The support of the missionaries could, of course, be assumed. The movement to rebuild Henshaw Town was spearheaded by the Young Calabar Movement, an organization of Henshaw Town youths who volunteered to draw up a programme of rehabilitation in the abandoned city as well as electing their own king.101 Even though Nair is of the opinion that the Young Calabar Movement was formed to eradicate the old religion, superstitions, and traditional customs of the Efik as well as convince the people to


accept Christianity en masse, it is apparent that their main goal was political freedom. Consul Hopkins gave the organization his full support with the provision that it would not constitute a rebellion against King Archibong of Henshaw Town. When Archibong II learned of the more radical intentions of the Movement, he protested against it, not on the grounds of rebuilding Henshaw Town but on the grounds that if a king was crowned, it would mean a loss of revenue to him. An independent Henshaw Town would mean that all the inhabitants would be trading through their new king and the comey would be further split among three monarchs when hitherto, only the Creek Town king shared it with him. The missionaries even warned Henshaw Town against such a move and advised them rather to build their own town and their trade until they were able to command the respect of their rivals and neighbours before contemplating a change of a political nature.102 But it seems Henshaw Town was tired of waiting and consequently went ahead and bought a crown from a Dutch supercargo103 who had long regarded them as the underdogs. But Henshaw Town did not succeed with her plans. It goes to her credit, however, that she was able to maintain such a heroic stance that, in fact, the very name ‘Nsidung’ (which means ‘what kind of a town!’ or ‘what a heroic people!’) seem well deserved. NON-EFIK SETTLEMENTS: QUA AND EFUT Writing as if to compound the assertion that the Efik are Ibibio by origin, Talbot remarked that when some Ibibio chiefs were compelled to leave Creek Town for Duke Town, they had to procure land from the Qua who owned the country.104 William Baikie wrote of the Qua that they are quite distinct, with their own language, and that they had long mastered the use of iron for tool manufacturing.105 Snelgrave stated that by 1704, the Qua people on the Cross River had a king whose name was Jabru.106 Though it cannot be established when the Qua came to the Cross River estuary, it is probable that their settlement on the bank of the river occurred around the latter part of the sixteenth century after the Ibibio had already been established on the opposite bank as well as on the creeks. Unlike the Efik, the Qua are not Ibibio but originated from Ekoi of the Ikpai branch of Ejagham.107 According to Qua tradition, they were forced to migrate from


Ekoi on account of a war fought over the salt mine at Mbakang. Defeated in a war by a coalition of Anegeye and Emat people, the Akin (the present Qua people) trekked along the modern Odukpani Road to their new settlement in Calabar. Nicholls observed in 1805 that the Qua country was very extensive and that the people had a king: In person he is about six feet two inches high, well formed, and very muscular with an aquiline nose, and a very pleasing and placid countenance, very simple in his manners, living according to the custom of his country, drinking nothing but water and mimbo. I think from my own observation that he must be about thirty-five years of age. His territories are very extensive, Duke Town standing in their country, for which the Calabar people pay him so much money for permission to remain there quietly.108 In a statement showing comey paid to the traders on the Calabar River, Captain Bold listed the following items, said to have been paid to King Aqua: ‘2 Manchester Romals, 4 kegs of powder, 2 quart jugs, 5 looking glasses, 1 wedge of soap, 4 iron bars’.109 If nothing else, the list illustrates that by 1820, the Qua were busy traders to have earned their king a share of the comey along with other kings of the city states. Even though Jones stated that the Qua lived in a number of dispersed villages each with its own village head (Ntoe) and without a recognized head for the entire Qua settlements,110 it seems the rise of Duke Town and other Efik polities did press home to the Qua the need for greater cohesion under one king in order to survive. This contention is borne out by the fact that Hutchinson remarked that the kingdom of Qua was governed from 1850 to 1854 by a queen who was a sister of the former king.111 But the political image of Qua kingdom was certainly eclipsed by that of Duke Town, especially from the 1820s. With only a hundred inhabitants in their capital city,112 Qua town was literally swallowed by Duke Town’s more numerous population and political dominance. Nevertheless, they were able to maintain their separate identity and in the treaty of 1878, they were assigned to ‘certain parts of the River Frontage near Old Town for their own use’ without any interference from Duke Town.113 The same treaty gave their king, Ekong Odo, the same rights and privileges enjoyed


by other Calabar monarchs. It might be worth pointing out that even though the Qua were able to maintain their customs and language, there was such a high incidence of intermarriage with the Efik that both people have many things in common. Some of the Qua people presently form part of the wards in present day Duke Town’s political arrangements.114 Unlike the Qua who have been able to maintain a greater part of their culture as well as their language, the Efut have been assimilated by the Efik. They speak the Efik language and have been so acculturized that it is only in the realm of history that their non-Efik ancestry can be ascertained. Originally from Cameroun, the Efut migrated to Calabar on account of constant fighting with the Batanga people.115 When they arrived in Calabar, they founded the seven Efut towns of Abua, Edondo, Ibonda, Uken, Idundu, Nkpara, and Ifako.116 They were organized on the basis of family, and rights of succession passed from father to son. The heads of the various families formed the village council which acted as a court whenever the need arose. Much of the political history of the Efut is part of Efik history because they ended up being part of Efik households. EGBO AS AN INSTITUTION OF GOVERNMENT Egbo was a secret society which fulfilled religious and social functions in Calabar society. As in all African societies, there was little or no distinction between that which was religious and that which was political. But the paramount function of Egbo society was to govern. This assertion is best summarized by Consul Beecroft when stated that Egbo forms the legislative, the executive, as well as the police establishment of Calabar.117. Originally, a purely religious cult,118 Egbo became transformed into a graded society whose membership was open to all Efik men, bonded or free. But while the free man could climb to the highest grade of this society (provided he was wealthy enough to afford the cost), the bonded were confined to the lowest grade. It appears that there was no age requirement to membership and later on, membership was open to women.119 The fact that very few women actually became members can be explained partly by the high cost of initiation fees, and partly by the attitude of the male members


of the society, whose consent had to be obtained before new members were admitted. Moreover, Calabar society norms did not expect women to be too ‘forward’ in political affairs, and since membership was an avenue to political participation, it is hardly surprising that female membership was kept as low as possible through manipulation which in retrospect would be regarded as chauvinistic. Foreigners who were willing could also become members of the fraternity and would be entitled to all rights and privileges. The practice of admitting aliens into the society might have begun with the entrenchment of the European traders in the Calabar River. Captain Burrell of the ship Haywood of Liver-pool held the rank of Yampai (Nyamkpe).120 An agreement of 1874, between King Eyamba VIII and Harry Hartye, an agent to Messrs Thomas Harrison of Liverpool, shows that the latter bought Egbo titles from the King up to the rank of Nyamkpe.121 Hartye was consequently entitled to all the rights, claims, and immunities of membership ‘except the Chief Officer of Egbo of Old Calabar’, and he was bound to not reveal ‘any of the secrets which are now [disclosed] to him, to those who have no connection with the Old Calabar Egbos’.122 It was always to the advantage of foreigners to become members of the society. They could appeal to the fraternity to recover debts due them by the African traders. They were also free from Egbo restrictions and could move about freely to oversee their business, even on such days when the Grand Egbo was on display (when none other than those with the highest ranks would be permitted to leave their homes). Besides, as members of the society, they stood the best chance of avoiding a possible embargo which Egbo might impose on any trader. Quite apart from the prestige that membership carried, its possessor was assured of regular income for life. Since all entrants had to pay the initiation fee, this amount was always distributed among members, each member receiving according to his rank in the fraternity. Holman noted in 1828 that a member who belonged to all the five Egbo grades of the time would have to pay a total of 300 bars and 1250 white copper rods, besides food and drinks.123 Translated into modern currency, this amount was quite substantial. Though the value of the bar and copper often fluctuated, Nicholls noted that in 1805, there were twelve pennies or one shilling (sterling) to a copper rod and Waddell gave a similar


value to brass in 1846.124 By 1856, copper rods had been replaced by brass rods in Old Calabar River, and Hutchinson intimated that the value of the bar at this period was about three pence with twenty bars being the equivalent of five shillings.125 Even after the currency had been debased and the copper was worth not more than between two and six pence in 1864,126 the income that accrued to members was not insubstantial. In fact, the devaluation of the currency was often countered by the proliferation of Egbo grades and the admission of people who in earlier times were not qualified to be members. It can be concluded that the number of Egbo grades at any particular time depended on the wealth and the value of currency in circulation. In this way, the members could obviate the loss in income which devaluation caused. Antera Duke made a reference to King Egbo in 1787 which suggests the existence of grades in the society even at that time. He remarked that Jimmy Henshaw had to pay ‘four Calabar afaws (slaves) to be King Ekpe’.127 The following list from Antera Duke’s diary indicates how much income the society could raise in a single day:128 Willy Honesty George Old Town Tom Nonaw Old and New Ekpe Robin Curcock Guinea Company King Ekpe Eyamba Old and New Ekpe Tom Cobham Duke Ephraim Egbo Young Offiong Robin John John Ambo Willy Tom Tom Curcock Old and New Ekpe Effar Misimbo King Ambo Ephraim Aqua

20 rods and 1 goat 10 rods 10 rods 8 rods 5 rods 5 rods 10 rods 8 rods 10 rods 20 rods and 1 goat 25 rods and 1 goat 5 rods 5 rods 4 rods 5 rods 8 rods 5 rods 4 rods 20 rods and 1 goat 5 rods


In 1828, there were a total of five grades, but Waddell noted the existence of ten ranks in 1846, and by 1858, Hutchinson recorded eleven ranks.129 In the Hart Commission Report of 1964, a staggering twenty-three Egbo ranks were recorded.130 Egbo could also impose fines on offenders and this was another source of income for members. The governmental functions that Egbo discharged covered a wide range of areas. Embargo could be imposed on trade on Egbo orders. Civic duties like street cleaning and night-watch were all performed on its command. As all discussions of a political or governmental nature were done in Egbo shed (palaver house), all heads of families were members of the fraternity. Egbo even undertook to bury its deceased members. Since authority over all other members of the Calabar community could only be exercised through the Egbo association, all who mattered in the community had to become members in order to participate in discussions of the affairs of the town. Each Efik city state had its Egbo shed. Usually the king of the city state was the head (Eyamba) of the society. But there were instances where the ruler did not hold the highest title, but he would still have to possess an important Egbo title in order to fully exercise his authority. For it must be noted that no man, however rich, could go against Egbo orders. The chance was that a man who was wealthy enough would seek to possess the highest title if he had no social restriction on himself such as being of slave origin. The title of Eyamba was held for life by its possessor. The first Eyamba was Essien Ekpe Oku of Ambo House, Creek Town but neither he nor his successor as Eyamba was ever made king.131 Aye postulates that the admission of women into the society in the nineteenth century was part of the reforms taking place within the society of that time.132 But such reforms might have been inspired by financial considerations rather than democratic ones. Be that as it may, women were not admitted to the highest grades, neither were children, a move calculated to reduce the possibility of town secrets being leaked to outsiders. Egbo laws were prompt and totally sacrosanct. There was practically nothing in Calabar community which could not be regulated by Egbo legislation. The assumption has often been


made that Egbo laws were made to keep the weak and other members of the lower social classes in subjection.133 Such assumptions are contradicted by the fact that Egbo laws were never waived for any reason and members were subjected to fines if found guilty. King Eyo Honesty I was ruined by Egbo fines even though he was a member. In 1785, an Egbo messenger carried the Egbo drum with the Nsibidi inscription to Dick Ephraim who was indebted to Captain Morgan, and Dick Ephraim was summoned to appear before the Egbo court where he was asked to pay the debt at once.134 In retaliation for the illegal destruction of Old Town by the British warship, Antelope, in 1855, Egbo imposed a trade boycott on the British firm of Guinea Company at Adiabo and all commercial dealings with the company ceased.135 Riots and illegal assemblies were often broken by Egbo proclamation. In 1856, the missionary compound at Duke Town was sealed off by Egbo law. According to Reverend Anderson, three suspects had fled Duke Town and sought refuge in mission quarters. The suspects, Abasi Odiong, Okun Ya, and Iqua Ya, were accused of complicity in the death of a Duke Town man but the missionaries sheltered them and Egbo was consequently blown on the mission compound and work was paralyzed. The Egbo proclamation read as follows: 1. No one to carry provisions to the Mission house for sale or otherwise. 2. All gentlemen who had children or slaves residing with the missionaries must take them away instantly. 3. No one must visit the missionaries. 4. No child or slave to be sent to school. 5. No one to attend church or Sabbath meetings on the Lord’s Day, and no gentlemen to allow God’s word to be preached in his house.136 Egbo laws governed such a wide spectrum of affairs that it would be difficult to catalogue them here. Its laws were very simple and straightforward. It was the ‘Brass’ Egbo which was responsible for law enforcement137 and it was always represented by Idem Ukwo, a masquerade dressed in a multi-coloured costume. Around the waist of this masquerade, a bell was tied which tolled to announce to non-members of the public that they should keep off the streets.


Among members of the highest grade was the knowledge of Nsibidi script which was sacred and could not be divulged to members of the other junior grades. The knowledge of this script was usually the password, especially to people outside Calabar society whose membership was in doubt. In this way, aliens who faked as members could be easily detected. There was also the Egbo drum which when sounded, announced to the community that something was amiss. By beating the drum in a particular way the inhabitants would get the message and the public could be alerted against enemy attack or the outbreak of fire. Holman described the mode of administering justice as follows: When a person cannot obtain his due from a debtor, or when any injury has been received, personally or otherwise, the aggrieved party applies to the Duke [Duke Ephraim, died in 1834] for Egbo drums; acquainting him at the same time with the nature of his complaint. If the Duke accedes to the demand, the Egbo assembly immediately meet, and the drums are beat about the town; at first sound of which every woman is obliged to retreat within her own dwelling, upon pain of losing her head for disobedience; nor until the drum goes round a second time, to shew that council is ended, and the Egbo returned, are they released from their seclusion.138 When the Egbo assembly decides that it was a just complaint, the masquerade would be sent to the offending party to warn him of his delinquency and reparation would be demanded. If the offending party failed to carry out Egbo orders, his house would be sealed off and finally pulled down. If the matter was dragged to such an extreme, execution of the offender might be contemplated. Under the aegis of this association, the Efik established friendly relations with the neighbouring peoples and kept their clientele within manageable proportions. Such an arrangement was necessary for the economic life of Calabar because the Efik depended largely on other peoples for the production of the goods which they exported from the river. It must be noted that non-Efik communities could buy Egbo and use it in regulating the affairs of their town. Even though Comte de Cardi intimates that Egbo abuses outweighed its usefulness.139 It was the most fair and effective instrument of government that was ever devised in the region.


PRE-EGBO SYSTEM OF GOVERNMENT Before the institutionalization of Egbo into the form that it was later to become, the government of Old Calabar was not different from that which obtained in the Ibibio mainland. This government centred around the head of the family who usually presided over family meetings and directed their deliberations. Representatives from each family would form the village council where matters affecting the entire village were discussed and laws enacted. The only member of the village council who was not a family representative as such was the town-crier. This individual was selected, not on the basis of age but on his ability to keep secrets, his quickness in carrying out orders, his reliability, and his lack of fear of darkness. The decision of the village council was often announced at such periods of the day when it was calculated to reach the majority of the inhabitants, usually in the night, shortly before bedtime. For his reward, the town-crier was often exempted from many of the obligations imposed on other members of the village. He could be entitled to farm community land or harvest palm fruit from community plots without reimbursing the village. Even though the head of the village received a greater hearing in the village council, he was not autocratic for fear of losing the support of the other members. His influence rested more on age and personality reinforced by fairness rather than on force. Age and not wealth was the main criterion for selecting the village head. It was not unusual for people to reject offers of headship on the excuse that he was not the most eligible in terms of age. Among the Ibibio too, there were (and still are) several age sets, the status of which would increase with seniority. These age sets served as disciplinary institutions and guardians of public morality because they had the power to punish any of their members for unseemly behaviour towards elders.140 The existence of these mechanisms made the actual work of governing very easy. The people were governed as little as possible. In short, government was just like boiling a little fish: it should be boiled just enough and no more. ‘The oldest male of the ruling house was recognized as head of the clan, and all matters affecting the clan were decided by him sitting in council with the free members of it. Age was greatly honoured, but even the youngest member of the council had a right to speak’.141


In retrospect, the Calabar system of government during the period under study was a marked deviation from what had gone before. This was the era when that which was material won acceptance over that which was moral. Wealth became the criterion for political power. This period might be said to have marked the beginnings of capitalism of a miniature kind, at least for Old Calabar, an era when the aristocracy of birth was supplanted by an aristocracy of wealth. NOTES 1. Colonial Office, 591/2. 2. O.Dapper, Description de l’Afrique, Amsterdam, 1686, pp.315–6. 3. Duarte Pacheco Periera, Esmeraldo de Situ Orbis, translated and edited by George H.T.Kimble, London 1937, p.131 and footnotes. 4. D.Simmons, ‘An ethnographic sketch of the Efik people’, in Daryll Ford (ed.), Efik Traders of Old Calabar, London, 1956, p.7. 5. Interview with Chief Bassey Udo Adiaha Attah, 29 July 1973. 6. Interview with Chief Okon Eyo, 14 August 1973. 7. Interview with Chief Nyong Essien, 11 August 1973. 8. John Barbot, A Description of the Coast of South Guinea IV, London, 1732, p.465. 9. For a fuller discussion on the need for palm oil for use as lubricants and for soap manufacturing see Kenneth O.Dike, Trade and Politics in the Niger Delta 1830–1885, London, 1956, pp.49–50. 10. Gwilyn Iwan Jones, The Trading States of the Oil Rivers, London, 1963, p.74. 11. A.P.Thornton, The Imperial Idea and Its Enemies: A Study of British Power, New York, 1968, pp.16–17. 12. Hope Masterton Waddell, Twenty-Nine Years in the West Indies and Central Africa, London, 1863, p.314. 13. Brief Statement of the History of Henshaw’s Town, Old Calabar River, West Coast of Africa, for the Information of George Offor and Co., London, 30 December 1877, FO 84/1527. 14. Ibid. 15. Interview with Mr Ekeng Ewa Henshaw, 26 July 1973. 16. Thomas J.Hutchinson, Impressions of Western Africa, London, 1858, p.115. 17. Waddell, op. cit., p.251. For a fuller account of the massacre of 1767, see Gomer Williams, History of the Liverpool Privateers, London, 1897, pp.529–39. 18. Edward Bold, Merchants’ and Mariners’ African Guide, London, 1822, pp.78–9.


19. Charles Livingston to the Earl of Clarendon, 10/6/1870. FO 845/ 1326. 20. Waddell, op. cit., p.310. 21. Kannan K.Nair, Politics and Society in Southeastern Nigeria, London, 1972, p.26. 22. Bold, op. cit., p.79. 23. Nair, op. cit., p.26. 24. Bold, op. cit., p.79. 25. Interview with Efiong U.Aye, 16 August 1973. 26. Robin Hallet (ed.), Records of the African Association 1788–1831, London, 1958, p.199. 27. Ibid., p.200. 28. Ibid., p.206. 29. Waddell, op. cit., p.310. 30. Nair, op. cit., pp.27–8. 31. Waddell, op. cit., p.310. 32. J.V.Clinton, ‘King Eyo Honesty II of Creek Town’, Nigeria Magazine, 69 (August 1961), 182–3. 33. Waddell, op. cit., p.312. 34. Ibid., for details of this paragraph. 35. G.I.Jones, ‘The political organization of Old Calabar’, in Daryll Forde (ed.), Efik Traders of Old Calabar, London, 1956, p.118. 36. Waddell, op. cit., p.312. 37. Ibid. 38. Ibid. 39. Ibid., pp.312–13. 40. Enclosure 1 in no. 70, The Rev W.Anderson to Consul Hutchinson, 18/1/1855, Parliamentary Papers, LXII, 1856. 41. Enclosure 2 in no. 88, King Eyo Honesty to the Supercargoes of the Old Calabar River, 26/8/1856, Parliamentary Papers, XLIV, 1857. 42. Clinton, ‘Eyo Honesty H’, Nigeria Magazine, 69 (August 1961), 188. 43. Enclosure 1 in no.89, ‘Bye Laws’, Parliamentary Papers, XLIV, 1857. 44. M.D.W.Jeffreys, ‘Black Roberts and Old Calabar’, West African Review, 24 (April 1953), 359. 45. Ibid. 46. A.K.Hart, Report of the Enquiry into the dispute over the Obongship of Calabar, Enugu, 1964, par. 90. 47. Interview with Mr Frank Ikpeme, 26 July 1973. 48. Williams, op. cit., p.537. 49. Ibid., p.548. 50. All details from Hallet, Records of African Association, p.205. 51. Ibid.


52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66.

67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74.

75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80.

‘Report on the Old Calabar River’, CO 82/1. Waddell, op. cit., p.251. Ibid., p.310. Ibid., p.423, and 309–10. The ‘Palaver House’ was a town hall where all matters affecting the city state were discussed and laws enacted. Nair, op. cit., p.98. Ibid. Hope Masterton Waddell, Journal, VII, Entry for 4 December 1849, p. 49. Ibid., p.50. Ibid. Nair, op. cit., p.99. Ibid. Waddell, Journal, X, p.35. Ibid. E.A.Ayandele, The Missionary Impact on Modern Nigeria, London, 1966, p.23. The Representation of the Missionaries and Other Europeans in Old Calabar to Earl Russell, Her Majesty’s Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, FO 84/1176. Waddell, op. cit., p.552. Enclosure 23 in No.34, the Rev S. Edgerley to Acting Consul Lynslager, 17/1/1855, Parliamentary Papers, LXII, 1855. Ibid., Enclosure 24 in No.34, Acting Consul Lynslager to the Rev. S. Edgerley, 17/1/1855. Ibid., Enclosure 1 in no.34, Journal of Proceedings in the Rivers, Bonny, New Calabar and Old Calabar. Ibid. Treaty with the Chiefs of Old Calabar, 21/1/1856, Hertslet Treaties, X, p.33. Barbot, op. cit., p.465. Efiong U.Aye, Old Calabar Through the Centuries, Calabar, 1967, p. 35. Antera Duke, ‘Diary’, entry of 4/1/1786, in Forde, Efik Traders, p. 97. Hallet, Records of African Association, p.198, for details of the Eyamba/Nicholls encounter. Nair, op. cit., p.26. Hugh Crow, Memoirs of the Late Captain Hugh Crow of Liverpool, London, 1830, pp.272, and 275. Ibid. John Smith, Trade and Travels in the Gulf of Guinea, London, 1851, p. 200. Ibid., p.199.


81. Captain Owen to Under Secretary of State for His Majesty’s Colonies, 26/11/1828, CO, 82/1. 82. John Beecroft to R.W.Hay, 17/11/1830, CO 82/4. 83. Waddell, op. cit., p.310. 84. Ibid., p.288. 85. Ibid. 86. See Article IX of ‘Agreement between the British and Other Supercargoes and the Native Traders of Old Calabar’, 5 May 1862, British and Foreign State Papers, London, 1870, p.186. 87. Robin Hallet (ed.), The Niger Journal of Richard and John Lander, London, 1965, p.286. 88. Hutchinson, op. cit., p.119. 89. Captain Owen of the Ship ‘Eden’ to R.W.Hay, 28/4/1828, CO 82/1. 90. William Simpson Blount of ‘Pluto’ and Eyamba, King of Calabar, 6/ 12/1841, FO 84/495. 91. Hart, Report, par.65. Etubom Efiok Asama Ekpenyong Efiok Eyo Honesty III. 92. Source of the chart: Hart, Report, par.127, table E; Aye, Old Calabar, pp.37–8; Nair, Politics and Society, p.170. 93. Hart, Report, par.72. 94. Nair, op. cit., p.170. 95. Hart, Report, par.72. 96. Hallet, Records of African Association, p.206. 97. Aye, op. cit., p.37. 98. Nair, op. cit., p.173. 99. Brief History of Henshaw Town, FO 84/1527. 100. Principal Men of Henshaw Town to Captain Hopkins, 16/2/1871, CALPROF 4/1. 101. Nair, op. cit., p.171. 102. Ibid., p.173. 103. Ibid., p.174. 104. Percy Amaury Talbot, The Peoples of Southern Nigeria, London, 1926, p.185. 105. William Balfour Baikie, Narrative of an Exploring Voyage up the Rivers Kwora and Binue in 1854, London, 1856, p.351. 106. Talbot, op. cit., p.187. 107. Daryll Forde and G.I.Jones, The Ibo and Ibibio-Speaking Peoples of Southeastern Nigeria, London, 1950, p.90. 108. Hallet, Records of African Association, p.202. 109. Bold, op. cit., p.77. 110. G.I.Jones, Report of the Position, Status and Influence of Chiefs and Natural Rulers in the Eastern Region of Nigeria, Enugu, 1964, p.35. 111. Hutchinson, op. cit., p.128. 112. Ibid.


113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141.

Trade and Commerce, Acqua Town, 6/9/1878, FO 84/1508. Jones, Report, p.35. Forde and Jones, op. cit., p.90. Nair, op. cit., p.3. Consul Beecroft to Viscount Palmerston, 27/11/1851, FO 84/858. Hart, Report, par.148. Ibid., par.150. James Holman, Travels in Medeira, London, 1840, p.392. Hart, Report, par.167. Ibid. Holman, Travels, p.291. Hallet, Records of African Association, p.207. Waddell, op. cit., p. 247. General Report on the Bight of Biafra, FO 2/16. Burton to Russell, 15/4/1864, FO 84/1221. Antera Duke, ‘Diary’, in Forde, Efike Traders, p.59. Ekpe is the modern spelling for Egbo. Ibid., entry for 31/8/1787. Holman, op. cit., p.291; Waddell, op. cit., p.313; Hutchinson, Impressions, p.141. Hart, Report, par.157. Aye, op. cit., p.72. Ibid., P.75. Macdonald to the Marquis of Salisbury, 12/6/1889, FO 84/1940. Aye, op. cit., p.73. Ibid. Enclosure 1 in No.70, The Rev W. Anderson to Consul Hutchinson, 30/5/1856, Parliamentary Papers, XLIV, 1857. Hutchinson, Impressions, p.143. Holman, op. cit., p.393. Comte de Cardi, ‘Secret Societies’, in Mary Kingsley, West African Studies, London, 1899, p.562. Forde and Jones, op. cit., p.73. Hart, Report, par.131.

Economic Studies

70

5 The Native Revenue Ordinance in the Eastern Provinces: The Adventures of a Colonial Legislative Measure E.A.Afigbo

There must be few amongst Nigerian historians who entertain any doubt about the pernicious role in their national history of the system of imperial administration popularly known as In-direct Rule. Those who do not hold it ultimately responsible for retarding the political education of their people, or for promoting national disunity through pandering to ethnic exclusiveness, at least find in it the explanation for a number of other minor national ills. Writing on Southern Nigeria in the period between 1885 and 1906, Professor Anene accused this system of effectively undermining ‘the tribal system’ and producing chaos.1 To Professor Anene the key to an understanding of the tragedy of Indirect Rule in Southern Nigeria lay in two major initial wrong steps taken by the British. The first was the fact that colonial rule was imposed by force, leading to the liquidation of those very traditional authorities and institutions of control through which the policy of Indirect Rule would have been implemented. The second was that the authorities of the Southern Nigeria Protectorate wrongly assumed that the ‘house’ system, a coastal socio-political phenomenon, obtained throughout the Protectorate and so proceeded to apply to all the hinterland tribes policies and administrative systems which had been designed to meet the needs of coastal society.2 Professor Anene’s study ended in 1906 but by that date the administrative system of the Protectorate of Southern Nigeria was just being established. This fact affected his analysis and conclusions. Thus he sought to explain the Women’s Riot of 1929 in terms of the faults which were observable in the Southern Nigeria system by 1906. But between 1906 and 1929, momentous changes took place many of which lay outside of the logic of


Southern Nigerian history in Anene’s 1885–1906 period. This chapter intends therefore to explore that quarter-century through analysing the development of one law, the Native Revenue Ordinance (hereinafter referred to as NRO) and its extension to the Eastern Provinces: Calabar, Ogaja, Onitsha, and Owerri. This development encompasses a significant part of the many problems characterizing Indirect Rule. Its full impact on the people will not be fully analysed here in favour of highlighting the administrative derivation of the policy. This approach should illustrate Nigerian concepts and conditions recognized but ignored in decisionmaking, as well as how and for what purposes that information was used by administrators who were often in conflict with each other. Thus this dynamic may explain why the administration brought many problems on itself as well as Nigerians, including the basic issue: the attempt to institute a single pattern of local government, modelled from entirely different circumstances, among the variegated societies of Southern Nigeria. THE ORIGIN OF THE CONCEPT: THE NATIVE REVENUE PROCLAMATION The direct taxation law which later became famous (or rather, notorious) as the Native Revenue Ordinance came to the limelight of history in Northern Nigeria as the Native Revenue Proclamation of 1906. From the peculiar circumstances of the Northern Protectorate in those days the law began largely as a temporary expedient put forth to cope with a number of otherwise intractable problems. Among these was the financial bankruptcy of the administration which made it painfully dependent on grants grudgingly given by the imperial exchequer and on subventions from its southern neighbours. In addition, although Lugard wanted to base British rule on conquest and succeeded in doing so, he had not the resources to sweep aside the ruling elite of the Muslim states and to establish a modern bureaucratic administration measuring up to British standards. In the end he was compelled to adopt a policy which, according to Professor Flint, ‘was but a continuation under new circumstances of the older nineteenth century reluctance to make large commitments, especially financial ones, in colonial ventures’.3 One proof of this observation lies in the arguments adduced by Lugard for the measure. They were immensely practical and nearly devoid of idealism. First, he needed

NATIVE REVENUE ORDINANCE 73

money. Hence the proceeds of what was described as the Emirs’ taxation was to be shared in stipulated proportions between the central government and each emir. Second, to the emirs and the masses, Lugard wanted to appear as a liberator. Hence the many pre-colonial vexations and oppressive taxes were replaced by one, said to have been collected with minimum terrorism and corruption. At the same time not wishing to alienate the emirs or undermine powers useful to the British, Lugard ensured them the funds to maintain the semblance of their traditional dignity and power. The very structure of the Emirs’ government’, he argued, ‘would collapse if the revenue were checked by hasty reforms’.4 Third, he argued that the system gave practical demonstration that British rule was accepted. Fourth, he contended, taxation forced people to work thereby stimulating industry and production which benefited the people with the ‘moral tonic’ of industry and increased colonial income from export. At this stage the only argument independent of practical administrative or economic concerns was that the status of liberated slaves would be reinforced by ‘the state recognition of the rights and responsibilities of the individual’ which the tax measure implied.5 The decisions were ad hoc, geared to the specific political and social realities of the Northern regions, and unimpaired by moral dogma. If in this period Lugard was not a ‘dogmatist'6 it was largely because there was no dogma to propagate. There were few historical precedents, and during this period as Professor Flint has observed, there was ‘no discussion of long term goals, and the deeper purposes of British governance were not considered at all. The fundamental question of the African’s relationship to British control and of the African’s future share in economic, political and administrative life remained open’.7 Thus it appears that the ideological baton with which the Eastern Provinces were goaded into bloody riot in 1929 was at inception a limited policy fashioned by expediency. How then did it become paraded in the propaganda of Lugard and his apologists as the colonial administrator’s stone that could transform a ‘benighted medieval community’ into a progressive modern state?


THE TRANSFERRAL OF LUGARD AND THE NATIVE REVENUE PROCLAMATION TO THE SOUTHERN PROVINCES In 1912 Lugard returned to Nigeria to execute the imperial plan of amalgamating the Northern and Southern Protectorates. By that time he viewed the Native Revenue Proclamation as the main bastion of the Northern System, and native administration in the North as incomparably superior to that in the South.8 His assignment offered him the opportunity, he felt, to amend the law and confer on Southern Nigerians what he considered the inestimable benefits of the Northern system. The extension of the previous law into societies for which it had not been designed, and for purposes which were acquiring grandiose and idealistic purposes suggests that Lugard was tending to dogmatism. ‘It has been my hope’, he argued in August 1914, ‘that I should be able to gradually introduce a system of direct taxation into the Southern Provinces such as exists in the Northern Provinces and in practically every British (and foreign) possession in Africa’.9 The purpose was to ‘set up a system of administration through native chiefs’ and ‘bring the Political Officers into greater touch with the people’.10 Without examining the adverse effects of the system in the North, Lugard idealized it as a tool of political evolution. His arguments were augmented by economic considerations at the outbreak of the First World War. Lugard saw that the colony’s chief sources of revenue were customs duties (mainly on spirits) and railway freights, both annually yielding more than 2½ million pounds revenue. Trade in spirits was largely a continental European monopoly, and kernels, the major railway item, were taken to the continent to be crushed and sold. The war appeared bound to diminish the volume of those industries. So Lugard argued, ‘I anticipate a very serious shortage of imports and exports for some time to come which will decrease the revenue both from customs and railway freights’. In this situation, he went on, it might be imperative to augment the revenue by direct taxation.11 Unlike his Northern policy, this time his argument was not modified by consideration of the implications of taxation for the local people. That problem was not un-recognized by the administration. The Secretary of State for the Colonies, Mr Harcourt, for fear of ‘native unrest’ refused to consent to


introducing a measure as explosive as taxation into a region as volatile as the Southern Provinces during the war. His advice was, first. that it would be best to allow ‘the general question of taxation in the Southern Provinces to stand over for the present’. Second, if Lugard considered it necessary and safe to introduce the measure into any particular community, he should send in proposals and request permission in the ordinary way.12 Lugard’s reaction to this rebuff from the Colonial Office was to develop in greater detail his philosophy about the role direct taxation might play in the political evolution of ‘primitive’ peoples. In his opinion, he replied, the greatest value in the imposition of direct taxation on African tribes was that it helped to ensure the selection of the most capable and most influential men as chiefs through investing them with authority and responsibility. By participating in the expenditure of the revenue deriving therefrom, they became part and parcel of the government of the country. Through such close participation in one of the most vital processes of government, the irresponsible, the incompetent, and the corrupt would be eliminated, leaving only the most promising elements through whom the country could then be governed. In supervising the entire process of taxation the political officers would come into closer touch with the people and know them better. This, he asserted, would benefit effective administration. In addition, direct taxation served other purposes equally vital to efficient healthy administration. All native chiefs used by the administration should have regular incomes out of which to live and support their positions. Direct taxation, with its corollary of the Native Treasury, provides the means of giving to each person who renders public service, an adequate and assured salary replacing the extortion, bribery, and unjust fines which are otherwise the natural means of livelihood of the so-called chiefs and the hordes of satellites who rob the people under cover of collecting for the chiefs.13 In addition, argued Lugard, direct taxation was probably the most effective means of stopping the disintegration of native society which had begun in Southern Nigeria in consequence of what he considered the pernicious poiicy of his predecessors there. In Southern Nigeria he saw two categories of political organization.


First, there were the Yoruba and Edo Kingdoms which he likened to Dahomey and Asante and which he said were centuries in advance of the Igbo, Ibibio, and Ogaja peoples of Eastern Nigeria. In the Yoruba and Benin Kingdoms, he contended, there was an urgent need for action in order ‘to arrest the disintegrating agencies which are at work’ and one of the ways to realize this was to introduce direct taxation. Next to this group of societies, he said, were the coastal communities which had evolved the system of ‘house rule’. Here too disintegration had set in. The ‘houses’ were in the process of breaking up owing, first, to the decline of middle men monopoly of the foreign trade, on which these houses had flourished, second, to the European penetration of the interior, third, to the measures taken against slavery, and finally, due to the influence of the missions and the courts of the Old Southern Nigeria. The only way to halt this disintegration, said Lugard, was to impose direct taxation and institute Native treasuries.14 These were the dogmas which Lugard had come to associate with direct taxation and for which he wanted to extend the Native Revenue Proclamation to all of Southern Nigeria. They were also the ideas which he later elaborated and embodied in his epochal book, The Dual Mandate in British Tropical Africa.15 A comparison between these arguments and those which lay at the root of the Native Revenue Proclamation of 1906 demonstrates Lugard’s transformation from a practical-headed colonial servant of the first decade of this century to a romantic moralist in the next decades. This is important. It meant that the Northern Nigerian law of taxation became extended to the Eastern Provinces not for primarily practical and practicable reasons of raising revenue for administration but for idealistic goals of effecting socio-political revolution amongst the people. This ideological volte-face prefaced the adventure of the colonial legislation in the South. Since the Colonial Secretary opposed direct taxation in the South, Lugard decided to exclude most of the Eastern Provinces from his initial proposals. These people, he felt, were unused to direct impositions and lacked the machinery for tax collection. According to him, before the measure could be extended to the Igbo, the Ibibio, and the Ogaja, ‘some preliminary progress must be made in the selection of chiefs’ amongst them, and other aspects of the Northern systems imposed in and after 1914 should


be given time to take root.16 Despite these drastic modifications to his ambitious plan, Lugard was not immediately permitted to extend his tax law to the Yoruba, Benin, and Delta areas of Southern Nigeria. The Secretary of State argued: At a time when practically the whole of the military force of Nigeria is engaged in the Cameroons or stationed near the German frontier and when trouble has already arisen in several of the inland districts of the Protectorate, the enactment of such measures as you propose should be postponed although I am prepared to give them due consideration at a more suitable date.17 By 1916, however, the financial situation of the colony had deteriorated and Lugard had increased his pressure on the Colonial Office for permission to extend the law to the Yoruba, Benin, and Delta areas where he thought the payment of impositions was traditional and the machinery for the collection ready to hand. He was then allowed to introduce the measure into selected portions of the Southern Provinces on the following terms:18 (i) that the impost on the native should not exceed what he at present pays in form of tribute. (ii) that it has the consent of the chiefs. (iii) that it is not likely to cause any disturbance. These terms of course, excluded the Eastern Provinces and Warri where none of these three conditions obtained. Lugard amended the 1906 tax law and pushed it through the Legislative Council in Lagos in 1916 as the Native Revenue Ordinance. The imposition of the law on the Yoruba did not pass without incident. Towards the end of 1916, even before the first taxation had been paid, rioting broke out in the Oyo Province. Native Courts were burned and in Iseyin, people fired on Protectorate troops. In Abeokuta the application of the NRO provoked even more serious opposition.19 Lugard did not attribute these disturbances to the extension of the NRO. The Oyo disturbances of 1916 he explained by claiming ‘the favourable moment of transition to the new regime had already passed’. He also claimed that ‘misrepresentation by the horde of idle parasites, whose occupations would be gone,…had


time to do its work’.20 In short, the Secretary of State by his delay of the introduction of taxation was to blame. Of the bloodier Egba riots of 1918 Lugard said, ‘the causes were complex and it would not be justifiable to ascribe them to any one motive’,21 and so the extension of the NRO remained un-faulted. Convinced that neither himself nor his system was to blame, even before the Yoruba and Benin difficulties were resolved, Lugard pressured for extension of the law to Warri and the Eastern Provinces. He claimed success in the introduction of direct taxation into Oyo, Abeokuta, and Benin Provinces, and encouraged by it, requested from Secretary Logg a free hand in extending the NRO.22 But neither the Colonial Office nor the Residents of the Provinces encouraged him. Captain J.Davidson, Resident of Calabar Province, was certain the matter would not be easy, reasserting that previous taxation and institutions for collection were absent in his province. He anticipated trouble and prophesied, ‘frequent fracas will occur and escort will be necessary to the assessing officers until the people learn that the burden is not a great one, and is compensated for by the loss of the present compulsory working system on roads, creeks, etc.’.23 The Resident of Ogaja, W.E.B.Copland-Crawford, pointed out that the specified conditions did not obtain in his province and warned that with the staff depleted by the war it would be unwise to extend to these politically fragmented provinces a law entailing so much extra work and hardship for the already overworked political officers.24 Lugard’s first attempt to extend the NRO to the Eastern Provinces ended in futility. But through extending that law to the Yoruba and Bini Provinces Lugard created a tradition which for a decade haunted the political officers responsible for the affairs of the Igbo and their neighbours. After 1918, the question ceased to be whether to extend direct taxation, but when to extend it. A brief study of the views of these men after 1918 clearly shows that many of them had fallen under Lugard’s spell. To many, the NRO ceased to be a contrivance for raising administrative revenue, as originally conceived in the North. It had become a miraculous device for stimulating political development in tribal societies. W.F.Gowers, Acting Lieutenant Southern Provinces, argued on 30 March 1921: Everywhere that direct taxation is in force and courts are not the sole means of earning local revenue, I think there is a


possibility of their becoming really useful institutions. The receipt of tribute is however, indissolubly bound up, in the native mind, with the idea of authority and it is my idea that the latter will perish without the former.25 Writing on the same issue in October 1922 Captain J.V. Hanitch, Assistant Divisional Officer Eket, argued that direct taxation would ‘give a measure of power and responsibility to the chiefs whose position tends to sink lower and lower each year’, for it would ‘tend to prevent or lessen the present process of disintegration in native society’.26 Nor was it only amongst the political officers working in Nigeria that it had come to be believed that the imposition of taxation on the Eastern Provinces would make for progress and rapid development. This view had also won some acceptance in the Colonial Office. In 1926, the Under Secretary of State for the Colonies, the Honourable W.A.G.Ormsby-Gore, reporting on British Colonies in West Africa argued that the role of direct taxation and Native Treasuries in the development of primitive peoples could not be over-emphasized as provided for under the NRO. Chieftainships could not adequately be maintained without local revenue. He went on: It is a matter for early consideration whether direct taxation should not be introduced into the remaining provinces composing the Southern Provinces of Nigeria contemporaneously with the setting up of Native Administrations… The absence of organised Native Administrations with local revenue of Southeastern Nigeria is one of the factors accounting for the less developed state of these provinces compared with the rest of the country.27 It was this more or less general belief in the value of direct taxation as a political tonic that led to the decision to introduce it in the Eastern Provinces. Even those officers who were not prepared to rhapsodize in Lugardian fashion on the political advantages of direct taxation, believed that it more or less had a general social value which the Eastern Provinces needed badly. Not only would it curb the so-called litigiousness of the people, they maintained, it would also stimulate trade and industry as well as curb the


licentiousness of the younger generation. In 1926, for instance, Mr Jeffreys, DO Ikot Ekpene, complained of the number of cases which came annually before the Native Courts in the Division. Referring to this, Mr F.P.Lynch, the Resident of the Calabar Province, argued: ‘It is difficult to devise a remedy and one must only hope that the introduction of taxation may tend to make the people do a little more work and spend less time in what is undoubtedly a pass-time to them, litigation’.28 It was with the decision to tax the Eastern Provinces that the really dramatic adventures of this colonial legislation started. EXTENSION OF THE NRO TO THE EASTERN PROVINCES The final decision to tax the Eastern Provinces may be traced to August 1924 when Colonel H.C.Morehouse, the Lieutenant Governor Southern Provinces, addressed a minute to the Governor, Sir Hugh Clifford, recommending the imposition of direct taxation on the remaining untaxed provinces. Sir High Clifford agreed with the argument of the minute but felt unable to do anything towards its implementation since he was about to leave Nigeria for the last time. Within a few days of arriving in Nigeria, Sir Graeme Thompson, the new Governor, held consultations with his top officers and the general opinion was that ‘the time had arrived when the five Southern Provinces remaining untaxed and the colony of Lagos should be subjected to direct taxation’.29 The thinking in official circles on the form which direct taxation in the Eastern Provinces should take would appear to have been rather undefined. In fact, since Lugard, it cannot be said that anyone had closely considered the problem. It would appear, however, that at headquarters where officers with Northern experience seem to have predominated, the assumption was that it would take the same form as direct taxation in the rest of the Protectorate. This would explain why they talked of the introduction of direct taxation in terms of the introduction of Native Administration and the establishment of Native Treasuries in typical Lugardian fashion. In any case as soon as the decision was taken to carry out the measure, the officers serving in the five provinces affected were called upon to study ‘Sir Frederick Lugard’s political memoranda 5 and 6 which give in general the


principles on which taxation and Native Administration are founded’.30 However, the nervousness of officers, in Warri and the four Eastern Provinces, over popular reaction apparently made them more concerned with getting the principle of direct taxation accepted than with seeing orthodox Lugardian rule enforced. Thus they discounted insistence on income tax and assessment and elaborated upon a policy of a poll or hut tax. Captain J. Davidson argued: The only form of taxation which appears feasible in the present stage of the development of the Provinces is that of capitation tax and this should be similar to the system in the Cameroons Province where every adult male above 16 years pays 10/– per annum…If it is felt that further taxation with a view to throwing a larger burden on those of greater wealth is desirable the South African method of an additional tax on the husband for every wife in excess of one could be adopted.31 This form of taxation, he maintained, would present the least difficulty in assessment and was the most likely to be rapidly perfected and checked. The first hurdle which had to be cleared then was the choice between extending the Lugardian income tax or designing a new tax whose immediate goal would be to obtain the basic acceptance of direct taxation by the people. The conflict between these approaches emerged early in administrative proceedings. To inaugurate the new era of energetic administration in the Eastern Provinces, Major U.F.H. Ruxton, an officer with Northern experience, was appointed the LieutenantGovernor of the Southern Provinces and given the responsibility of producing the draft principles on which direct taxation should be introduced. He appeared particularly suited for the task for he had presided over the introduction of direct taxation into the Tiv area, a region occupied by non-Muslim peoples whose political system was as fragmented as those of the Igbo and their neighbours, and who were considered equally difficult to govern. Ruxton had apparently applied the NRO to this ‘difficult’ area against his will,32 but he too believed in its beneficial political effects. Thus while he said that ‘an individual chief is chiefly a conception that we ourselves introduced, amongst the forest people it may be said


not to exist’, he hoped that five years of taxation would produce District Heads or Chiefs on Northern lines; ‘A District Chief, he said, ‘represents the next stage in the evolution of native society’.33 But despite his Lugardian background and beliefs, perhaps because he listened to the ominous warnings of his political officers there, he came to the early realization that the political, social, and psychological situation in the Eastern Provinces was un-paralleled in the rest of Nigeria. ‘The first problem connected with the extension of taxation to these hitherto untaxed areas’, he wrote in a memorandum, ‘is legal.’ He pointed out that it was tempting to extend the NRO but unwise to do so. He considered the law obsolete and in any case framed to meet conditions in a predominantly Muslim country organized on ‘feudal lines’ and uncontaminated with ideas of English law. Earlier, he felt, direct taxation might have been introduced ‘as a result of armed occupation, as in the Hausa States’. But after twenty years of British rule, it was too late. Thanks to the influence of the missions, traders, supreme court and so on, native society had disintegrated to the point that influential men who might have assisted the administration could no longer be found while a class of rather vociferous westernized elite had emerged. ‘The whole basis’, he went on, ‘on which the Native Revenue Ordinance rests in the Northern and Yoruba Provinces is completely absent so much so that its wording is unmeaning to the officers in the Southern [sic, i.e. Eastern] Provinces’. Therefore, he concluded, only the simplest form of capitation tax could be aimed at with elaboration following in perhaps ten years, ‘when administrative staff has acquired experience and the people become accustomed to the idea of paying tax’.34 With these arguments in mind Major Ruxton and his law officers tried to draw up an enactment whose ‘elasticity must cover conditions as widely dissimilar as those prevailing in the remoter districts of the Ogaja Province and those in the colony of Lagos’.35 To placate the westernized elite he strove to avoid concepts it found offensive. The word ‘native’ was considered derogatory, so Ruxton proposed to call the new law ‘General Tax Ordinance’. To avoid further allegations of racial discrimination he proposed that the law apply to all races, Nigerians, Syrians, Europeans, and other West Africans. So conscious was Ruxton of the trouble this elite class could make that it would not be too much to contend


that it was his fear of it which had made him finally rule out extending the NRO to their provinces. He warned of their capacity to obstruct the govern ment through protracted litigation and maintained that where, in the Northern Provinces, the NRO is but the statutory background on which taxation rests, an ordinance scarcely consulted in practice and totally unknown to the taxpayers, in the Eastern Provinces the new ordinance will have to lie open on every office table and copies will be in the hands of every lawyer’s tout. The interpretation of almost every clause will be argued before the Supreme Court, it will certainly not lie on the top shelf in Provincial and District Offices.36 Then, the absence of chiefs and, therefore, the lack of local assessment prompted him to recommend a capitation tax. He recognized that such a tax by its nature was bound to be arbitrary and fall unfairly on individuals, but he hoped, as they were just beginning, that the rate would be such as could easily be paid by all.37 Second, he avoided provisions for a penalty ‘for the nonfulfillment of his duties by a District Chief’ as the District Chief was still to evolve and penalties might ‘retard his evolvement’.38 Most of the difficulties which were associated with the imposition of taxation in the Eastern Provinces were to derive from the subsequent decision of the government to brush aside Ruxton’s proposals in these regards and base taxation on the NRO. At headquarters the first reactions to Ruxton’s proposals were favourable. Even application of the tax ‘to men of every race’ was ‘generally agreed upon’.39 Analysis of these initial reactions demonstrates how close the government came to deciding against the NRO extension and saving themselves many of the problems encountered in its imposition. Mr F.L.Tabor, once Resident of the Ogaja Province, but who was at the time working at headquarters, first drew the attention of the Chief Secretary to the highlights of the proposed bill. He pointed out that since the draft bill would not apply to the already taxed provinces of the South it was likely to raise discontent in the Yoruba provinces ‘where a man may find himself paying a very much larger tax than his more wealthy neighbour in the colony’. He then commented on the provision that the draft ordinance authorized ‘the arrest without warrant of a person who refuses to


or neglects to pay’ pointing out that although the NRO had no such provision, the NA police ‘every-day’ arrested tax defaulters without warrant. In the areas about to be taxed, he recommended that this power be exercised in the townships only by the Government Police.40 In his own minute to the Governor on the draft ordinance, the Acting Chief Secretary, T.S.Thomas, argued against Tabor’s observation that the differential rates of taxation might evoke resentments in the already taxed provinces. The man in Oyo, he pointed out, ‘is not adversely affected by the new tax’ as ‘the man in Calabar is not being taxed at his expense’. On the question of European taxation he pointed out that ‘sooner or later the Northern Provinces would have to be brought in line’ with the Eastern Provinces and the Colony. He, however, suggested a separate ‘Non-Native Taxation Ordinance’, but the Governor in a comment along the margin sided with the LieutenantGovernor Southern Provinces in his preference that ‘all races should be dealt with under the same law’. The Acting Chief Secretary also observed that the provision for summary arrest might ‘evoke comment from Europeans’ but at the same time added that ‘the answer is that they have only to obey the law to be immune’. The rest of the minute questioned the wisdom of allowing as much as one half of the proceeds of taxation to go to the inexperienced Local Administration Funds.41 In short, thus far, nobody either at headquarters or in the Southern Provinces questioned the wisdom of the fundamental principles of Ruxton’s draft ordinance. It was probably this apparent acceptance of Ruxton’s proposals that accounts for his rather complacent attitude to the vehement criticism of his bill which soon emanated from the Northern Provinces, criticisms which were to alter policy and approach with far-reaching consequences. ‘It is only right,’ Ruxton wrote in forwarding these criticisms, ‘that his [H.R. Palmer’s] views should be laid before Government and I do so without comment, feeling that we have here the difference between the political idealism of the Northern Provinces and the realism of the Southern Provinces, a difference which only Government can resolve’.42 In time government did resolve the conflict—in favour of Northern idealism against Southern realism. The fact is that Major Ruxton had also sent a copy of his draft ordinance for comments to the Lieutenant-Governor of the Northern Provinces, Sir Herbert Richmond Palmer, a dyed-in-the-


wool Lugardian. It is not clear what this was designed to achieve since the experience of Palmer was limited to the Northern Provinces, and Ruxton was proposing a tax law whose main provisions were the direct opposite of those of the NRO. Not surprisingly, and this is what concerns us here, Palmer and his lieutenants at Kano and in the Cameroons, found the draft ordinance unacceptable on many grounds and so urged closer conformity to the practice and theory of taxation already in existence in the Northern Provinces, Yorubaland, and the Benin Province. Sir Herbert Richmond Palmer directed his fusillade against the philosophical basis of Ruxton’s draft bill, partly because it was not in harmony with the theory of the NRO which obtained in the Northern Provinces and partly because he saw it as creating a loophole through which the Legislative Council in Lagos and the educated elite could interfere in the affairs of Native Administration, which is understandable given the Northern Administration’s wholehearted hatred of the Legislative Council and the westernized elite. To protect the Northern Administration from having to face precipitate and unwelcome change, he argued that the new ordinance should approximate as much as possible to the NRO. This, he contended, would also tend to promote the closer amalgamation of the Northern and Southern administrations. Therefore, he pleaded that no matter what the reality of the situation was, the theory of the law should be that the taxation was being imposed by the traditional authorities of the people no matter how shadowy those authorities might be. In any case, he said, the theory should at least be that the tax was being imposed by the Resident on their behalf. ‘My suggestion’, he went on, ‘is that except possibly in regards to the actual colony of Lagos and environs, the Resident should not levy the tax ex proprio motu or as an agent of Government but on behalf of the native community or communities living in his province.’43 C.W.Alexander, the Resident of Kano, on his side insisted that the new ordinance should be based on the pristine principles of the NRO. He was not prepared to concede the theory that the Resident levied the tax on behalf of the community. It must be clearly and plainly set down, he argued, that the tax was levied by the leaders of the community. Not only would this strengthen the position of the leaders and promote the emergence of powerful Native Authorities, he believed, it would help to make the taxation more


acceptable to the people. No matter how primitive a community might be, he went on, its members would easily appreciate that they have obligations to their community. They would also understand the embodiment of their obligation in a money payment for the good of the community… A tax levied by, or which has the con-currence of the leaders of the communities will be much more readily accepted by the payers, than an impost regarded as en-forced by a nebulous body of which they know little or nothing.44 As a corollary to all this, Sir Herbert Palmer argued that it was wrong to say that the Resident would be given a moiety of the proceeds of taxation for meeting the local needs of the people as this would make the Local Administration Funds a grant from the government. If this were to be so, the Legislative Council in Lagos would be legally justified to pry into the expenditure of the funds of Native Administrations. This would not only bring the Residents, who knew the local needs of the people, into frequent clashes with the Legislative Council, which knew nothing of the sort, it would also stultify local initiative and the evolution of healthy and self-governing Native Administrations. On the contrary, he argued, it should be made clear in the ordinance that the fraction of the proceeds of taxation paid into the Government Treasury was ‘a direct contribution to the Government from the public funds of the local community’. This, he believed, would fully protect the natural rulers of the people from the irritating interference of the adventitious political in-stitution called the Legislative Council. He went on: I would add that though it is doubtless incumbent on us to give official support to the Parliamentary institutions imposed on Nigeria in recent times, I look forward to a time —perhaps not many years hence—when both Nigeria and the Home Government will recognise that the best and most representative opinion in Nigeria can never emanate from a body constituted as is the present Legislative Council, which represents, except in a minor degree, little but the exotic education of a small minority, alien in thought, coupled with


European ideals not founded on a knowledge of Nigeria itself.45 The next point which the Northern officers attacked rather savagely was the idea of a capitation tax. Mr Arnett, the Resident of the Cameroons, argued that this would hasten the dis integration of native society as every youth of sixteen years or above who managed to pay would regard himself freed from all customary control by his elders or parents. Income tax, he pointed out, should be more in keeping with indigenous ideas. Under it the head of the family would be taxed on the income of his children and wives. In this manner the youth would not be encouraged to tear himself loose from his family.46 Sir Herbert Palmer on his side opposed capitation tax on theoretical grounds. Quoting Adam Smith, he argued that a fair or equitable tax must be based on ability to pay. Unless this principle was going to be violated, the decision to levy a capitation tax in order to avoid assessment was untenable. It would still be necessary even if a capitation tax were insisted upon, he maintained, to determine what each local community could pay. This, he said, would amount to assessment even though probably a crude one. Therefore, provision for assessment was unavoidable.47 The other aspect of Ruxton’s draft ordinance which came up for attack was the provision for taxing Europeans along with the natives. C.W.Alexander argued that if Europeans were to be taxed at all, they should be taxed by the Central Government rather than by the Native Authorities. If Europeans were made to pay the tax levied by Native Authorities, they would soon demand representation on these bodies—a development which would endanger, he believed, the healthy growth of Native Administrations. He then wondered whether the proceeds from taxing Europeans would be large enough to justify running such a major risk. And in any case, he argued, it would be unfair to tax Europeans only in the Eastern Provinces, Warri, and Lagos. Europeans in the rest of Nigeria where direct taxation already existed had so far been exempt yet this had not provoked resentment or protest amongst the people.48 There were other complications arising from the proposal to tax non-natives, it was pointed out. One of these was that if it were decided to tax all non-natives in Nigeria, then non-natives in Warri, the Eastern Provinces, and Lagos would pay a capitation


tax while their counterparts in the rest of the country would be subject to an income tax like the natives amongst whom they lived. This would savour of discrimination. If on the other hand, it should be decided to impose an income tax on all non-natives no matter their place of residence, this would entail for those nonnatives already taxed by their home governments, double taxation on the same income. ‘It is inequitable’, argued Mr Arnett ‘that a person, native or non-native, should be taxed twice on the same income merely because he is domiciled in two countries. The person who is domiciled in two countries is contributing to the prosperity of both and should be assisted rather than penalised’.49 The arrival at headquarters of these searing criticisms of Ruxton’s draft bill gave a new turn to its discussion. The first issue to be dismissed was the proposal to tax non-natives. Reviewing the arguments, Mr G.J.F.Tomlinson, the Honourable Secretary for Native Affairs, upheld the submissions of the opponents of the proposal. His main fear, he said, was that this aspect of Ruxton’s bill would make its passage through the Legislative Council more stormy than it need be. Not only would it be opposed by the European non-officials, but the Nigerian members representing those areas in which Europeans were not taxed would gang up against it. They would ask for the taxation of Europeans in the rest of the country also. To concede this second demand would create more problems for the government, for instance the assessment of the profits of firms. ‘These difficulties,’ he argued, ‘are not insuperable, but they could not be lightly faced.’50 The suggestion was therefore dropped in favour of another which wanted the problem of non-native taxation to be dealt with as a separate subject rather than being mixed up with native taxation. After this, the argument shifted to whether or not the NRO should be amended and extended to the hitherto untaxed provinces, or whether Ruxton’s draft bill should be adopted. Here again Tomlinson, the Secretary for Native Affairs (SNA), reviewed the argument and helped the Honourable Chief Secretary and His Excellency the Governor to make up their minds. ‘I confess,’ he said, ‘that I am much impressed by the comments of the Lieutenant-Governor Northern Provinces and C.W.Alexander…If I may say so, the draft ordinance seems to me to be too literally adapted to the facts as they exist today and to contain insufficient provision for the future.’ No doubt, he went on, that the ordinance could be amended as the situation in those provinces evolved for


the better, but it would be preferable to make the law ‘elastic’ enough from the start ‘so as to embody some of the aspirations— even if their realisation is remote—which have prompted the introduction of taxation’. After all, he continued, there was not perfect harmony between the theory and practice in the Northern Province. If therefore there was a little divergence between law and practice in the Warri and Eastern Provinces that would not do much harm.51 On these grounds, Ruxton’s ordinance was declared devoid of idealism. After these strictures on the draft bill, Mr Tomlinson went on to recommend so many amendments to the bill that had his suggestions been carried out it would have meant arriving at the NRO through a most circuitous and exhausting route. At this stage a high level meeting, attended by the Deputy Governor (T. S.W.Thomas), the Attorney-General (Donald Kingdom), the Secretary of Native Affairs (G.J.F.Tomlinson, and the LieutenantGovernor Southern Provinces (U.F.H.Ruxton) was held on 8 November 1926 to determine the legal basis for taxation in Warri, the Eastern Provinces, and the Lagos Colony. There it was decided to recommend the extension of the NRO to the provinces of Ogoja, Calabar, Owerri, Onitsha, and Warri, and to amend the draft bill so as to make it applicable to the Colony only. The main reasons for the decision were put down at (i) the ‘difficulty’ and ‘anomaly’ of taxing Europeans in the provinces mentioned above and not in the rest of Nigeria, and (ii) the lack of ‘idealism’ in the draft bill.52 Yet this was not the end of the matter. Major Ruxton, no doubt under the influence of his Residents in the untaxed provinces, continued the battle. He argued that bearing in mind the influence of the Supreme Court and the capacity of lawyers and their touts for mischief in these provinces, it was still necessary to determine to what extent the NRO could be applied there. He pointed out that though the NRO, as it then existed, was ten years old, it had never been challenged in the courts, but it was bound to be as soon as it started on its new adventures. The main danger, he said, lay in sections 4, 5, and 6, of that law, which provided elaborate details for assessing the wealth of a community before it could be taxed. ‘Will the courts,’ he asked, ‘hold that an estimate on the lines laid down must have been made, etc. before a tax payer need pay?’ If the law could be enforced in the Supreme Court, he concluded, political officers would be able to carry out their obligations under


it ‘even though its terminology and presumptions bear little resemblance to actual conditions’.53 But whether or not the Supreme Court could uphold actions of officers trying to apply the stipulations of the NRO, the ordinance lay down a method of assessment and valuation inapplicable in unorganized communities like the Eastern Provinces and was therefore in need of amendment. With this insistence from Major Ruxton, it was decided to amend sections 4, 5, and 6, by the addition of a section 6A, which was to say that: In any province or part of a province which may be declared by the Governor, or by Order-In-Council, as a province or part of a province in which it is not practicable to make assessment in the manner prescribed in the three last preceding sections the sum levied and collected shall be assessed at 10/– per annum payable by every male person of the age of 16 years and upwards or such other less sum as the Governor may approve in respect of any area or community.54 Furthermore, a draft Order-In-Council under the NRO was made declaring that the provinces of Calabar, Ogoja, Onitsha, Owerri, and Warri were such provinces as mentioned under the new section 6A. The order was to come into effect on 1 April 1927.55 But just at this point when it seemed Ruxton and his Residents were going to be spared the awkward job, which they dreaded, of carrying out assessment as the first logical step to determining the rates to impose, Mr Tomlinson (SNA) returned to the attack on 12 December 1926. He argued that it was probably because he was overjoyed with the decision to drop the draft ordinance that he was unable at the time to reflect fully on the implications of the above amendment. Having since had the time to do so, he considered it ‘a mistaken concession to the “intelligentsia”’. He was convinced, he said, that the government could, if it wanted, apply the NRO to the Eastern Provinces and Warri without the new section 6A. ‘We may find it,’ he contended, ‘difficult to explain in the Legislative Council why the clause is necessary in Onitsha and not in Asaba’.56 This again threw the matter into the melting pot.


The argument centered around the question whether by dropping the new clause 6A, a tax payer dissatisfied with the rate at which he was assessed could successfully challenge his assessment in the Supreme Court on the ground that the steps provided for under sections 4, 5, and 6 had not been properly followed. The Attorney-General made short work of this by assuring the disputants that under the existing law there was no right of appeal for an individual tax payer beyond the Resident. But at the same time, went on the Attorney-General, a community could call on the Supreme Court to declare its assessment null and void on the ground that sections 4, 5, and 6 had not been fully complied with. This raised further anxieties. Could a community then legally refuse to pay on such a ground? The Attorney-General said the Supreme Court would uphold their refusal to pay if no genuine effort had been made to comply with the specifications of the law. But if such an attempt had been made and could be shown to have been made ‘such a defence would, in my opinion, fail’. This clinched the matter and it was decided to drop the proposed new section 6A.57 This was, perhaps, the most vital and fateful decision in the process of extending the NRO to Warri and the Eastern Provinces. From the point of view of this study, and it would appear of the natives at the time, the crucial point in the extension of the NRO to the Eastern Provinces lay not so much in the fact of the imposition of direct taxation. Under any law, even under Ruxton’s draft bill, if it had been passed into law, direct taxation would not have been popular since it imposed new financial burdens, and in any case was an innovation. The crucial point lay in assessment. Here it becomes necessary to state precisely what the law demanded under assessment. It required that the Resident, acting in co-operation with the chiefs, or elders, or other persons of influence in each district, and in accordance with native custom and tradition should estimate or compute: (a) the annual value of the lands and the produce thereof, used, occupied or enjoyed by members of each community; (b) the annual value of the profits or gain from any trade, manufacture, office or employment in which the members of each community may be engaged; (c) the value of livestock, owned by each individual or by each community.58


There were three important implications of the requirements for assessment. The first was co-operation between the political officer and some local leaders without which the former was bound to find the work of assessment difficult, if not impossible. The second was a census of the population with a view to determining the number of the taxable males. The third was detailed investigation into, and computation of, the wealth of each community. The attempt to satisfy these three requirements set the NRO on the perilous journey that triggered the Women’s Riot of 1929. First, there was the demand for co-operation between the political officer and a local leader of position able to make his people give the necessary information, or capable of collecting it himself. No such leaders were recognized in the four Eastern Provinces. In fact one of the aims in extending the NRO to these provinces, was, as has already been shown, to build up such authorities. Whenever the problem of taxation was discussed in earlier days the general opinion had been that the Warrant Chiefs would have to be the main local agents for getting the measure implemented. But then, since the reforms engendered by the tours of S.M.Grier and G.J.F.Tomlinson in 1922 and 1923 respectively, it had come to be recognized that these men were artificial creations, had done a lot of harm, and should be replaced. By the time of Ruxton, therefore, it was accepted that the Warrant Chiefs should play little or no part in taxation, and that it might even be unsafe to collect for the Native Courts.59 Yet now, political officers had to begin rummaging for local authorities to help in assessment. In despair, many of them turned to the very Warrant Chiefs who had been declared unfit for the job, or even in extreme cases to aspirants to Native Court Warrants. The very association of the discredited and corrupt Warrant Chiefs with direct taxation increased the un-popularity of the imposition. Then the law demanded a census of the population of these areas. The counting of human beings had always been un-popular, if not dreaded amongst the people. It was believed to be an act provoking evil spirits and causing destruction and death. Then with the coming of the British it again proved undesirable due to its association with taxation. Widespread rumours of taxation had arisen during the attempt to conduct a routine census in 1911. The tension had forced the Governor, Sir Walter Egerton, to write to coastal ‘chiefs’ to dispel the rumours at that time.60 Not surprisingly, therefore, the census and assessment in 1926 and


1927 elicited excitement and opposition. In despair, assessing officers resorted to the dubious and disturbing practice of counting the number of doors in a compound and affixing an arbitrary figure of adult males. Where local people co-operated at all they warily underestimated their population. Where willing aspirants to Native Court Warrants were found, the men tended to exaggerate the number of people under their charge in order to inflate and flaunt their own importance in the hope of being made Warrant Chiefs.61 In short, the census provoked antagonism while producing unreliable data. And finally, there was the requirement for computation of the average wealth of individuals and communities. The people were naturally offended by the intrusion into their privacy, and moreover recognized the move as a prelude to taxation. They protested by non-co-operation which forced the assessors to measure farms on their own, counting palm trees and livestock. The procedure aroused more fears. In parts of these provinces the government had already—without adequate explanation to the people—created forest reserves.62 It now appeared that the government planned to seize more and perhaps all of their lands and palm trees. Eastern Province officers had always known and feared these sentiments but their advice had been ignored. Their attempts to compensate for the undesired law only made matters worse. Anticipating difficulties, the officers had begun as early as 1926 to collect information about the wealth of their districts. But, prompted as they were by fear of reactions, it was only logical that they did not take the people into their confidence.M. D.W.Jeffreys, ADO Eket (1919) expressed the philosophy of the approach: ‘If it were done it were done quickly. Plans should be in full readiness and the scheme sprung on the startled native suddenly. He will then pay his first quote before he has time to take any concerted action’.63 Thus as a government commission of inquiry later found out, ‘an unfortunate deception’ was practised on many of the people for fear of precipitating a riot at the stage of assessment. In many places the assessments were made without the explanation that ‘these were for the purposes of taxation’. A classic example was documented for Oloko Bende under officer A.L.Weir. When the people, perturbed by meticulous inquiries, asked what the purpose was he assured them it was a ‘mere count’ not a ‘census’ and had


nothing to do with any intention or plan to tax them. The people, he reported, ‘were not aware that the counting had any connection with taxation and in this way a fairly accurate census of the Oloko and Ayaba Court was obtained very quickly and easily’.64 But by the time he reached Alayi Court area, Weir reported, the cat had been let out of the bag, as a result of which he encountered much resistance and obstruction. The lies of 1926 were followed early in 1927 by the announcement that men would be taxed. In 1928, they were in fact taxed with little difficulty. It appeared the stratagem had paid off, but in fact conflict was not avoided. The first flush of success tempted political officers to more ambitious endeavours. In 1929, the Resident of Calabar issued elaborate instructions for a more thorough assessment. Assessment reports from Northern Nigeria had reached him from headquarters and apparently he wanted his provinces to equal the Northern Provinces in the meticulousness and detail of their assessment. In the Bende Division of Owerri Province, Captain Cook, Acting DO started, on his own, detailed assessment along the lines which he had used in the Okigwi Division. He wanted to compile nominal rolls which would contain the name of each adult, the number of wives, children, goats, and sheep. Thus began the climax of the attempt to fit the Eastern Provinces into the details and ideas of the NRO. As the detailed assessment began the Igbo revolted in the widespread confrontations which became known as the Women’s Riot of 1929.65 The protests were effective. After them the taxation in these areas came to be more or less a capitation levy on the men, as Ruxton, his Residents, and others attuned to the area had previously advocated. In addition their idea that the important thing was to get the principle of taxation implanted and revenue raised for local development was accepted. And after 1929 for many years, no-one heard any more of assessment or re-assessment in the Eastern Provinces. CONCLUSION The Native Revenue Ordinance had had a secure home in the Northern Provinces that had given it birth. Even with its extension to the Yoruba and Benin Provinces, it did not quite come to face any serious threats. Its turbulent adventures started only with the


decision to extend it to the Eastern Provinces and Warri. Its fundamental principles became seriously questioned in official circles. First, it was to be thrown aside and another tax ordinance framed. Then it was to be amended almost to the extent of being denuded of its vital and peculiar features, but was at last extended with its philosophy and practice unimpaired. If this was a tribute to the resilience of the Ordinance, it was also a proof of the fact that the men who manned the government of the Colony and Protectorate of Nigeria were ceasing to be hard-headed practical men and becoming romantic idealists. The Commission of Inquiry which investigated the causes of the Riots argued that the deception practised on the people in 1926 destroyed confidence between the government and the governed, gave substance to the rumour that government wanted to tax women, and precipitated the Riots. ‘When the steps taken are looked at one by one,’ it argued, ‘firstly, the counting of men; secondly the levy of tax on men; thirdly the counting of women— the conclusion of the people was a natural one that the next step would be the levy of a tax on women’.66 By this the Commission sought to shift the blame from the very decision to extend to these provinces the NRO which carried with it the duty to conduct assessment, to the obscure manoeuvres gone into by the administrative officers in order to avoid a proper assessment. But an objective inquirer would rather place the blame on the decision to ignore the fears of these officers about any kind of assessment at all. NOTES 1. J.C.Anene, Southern Nigeria in Transition, Cambridge, 1966, p.250. 2. Ibid., p.257. 3. J.E.Flint, ‘Nigeria: the colonial experience 1885–1914' in L.H.Gann and P.Duignan (eds.), Colonialism in Africa, 1870–1960, Vol. 1, The History and Politics of Colonialism, Cambridge, 1970. 4. Quoted in M.Perham, Lugard: The Years of Authority, London, 1960, pp.164–5. 5. Ibid., p.166. 6. Flint, in Gann and Duignan (eds.), op. cit., pp.243–4. 7. Ibid., p.252. 8. A.H.M. Kirk-Greene (ed.), Lugard and the Amalgamation of Nigeria, London, 1968, p.14; M.Perham, Native Administration in


9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29.

30. 31.

Nigeria, Oxford, 1937, p.61; F.Lugard, Report on the Amalgamation of Northern and Southern Nigeria, p.77. National Archives, Ibadan (NAI), CSO 9/1/8, Secret File No.35, Despatch of 10/8/14 from Lugard to Secretary of State. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., despatch from Secretary of State, L.Harcourt to Lugard dated 14/8/14. Ibid., despatch of 13/3/15 from Lugard to the Secretary of State. Ibid. F.Lugard, The Dual Mandate in British Tropical Africa, Edinburgh, 1922, pp.217–9; 230–7. CSO 9/1/8, Secret file No. 35, despatch of 13/3/15 from Lugard to the Secretary of State. Ibid., despatch of 30/4/15 from Secretary of State to Lugard. National Archives Enugu (NAE) Confidential C.49/1918, The Introduction of Universal Taxation into the Southern Provinces, see memo. (LGSP) to the Residents. Perham, Native Administration, p.77; Kirk-Greene, Lugard and the Amalgamation of Nigeria, p.72. Kirk-Greene, p.72. Ibid. NAE, Conf. C.49/1918, Introduction of Universal Taxation in the Southern Provinces (SP) see despatch from Lieutenant-Governor Southern Provinces to the Residents, dated March 1918. Ibid., see Memo. No. C.Conf. 6/1918 of 19/6/18 from the Resident of Calabar. Ibid., see No. Conf. OG. 12/1918 from the Resident of Ogoja, dated 11/6/18. NAE, C.176/19, Remarks by F.P.Lynch. See minute dated 30/3/21, from the Ag. LGSP to the Honourable Chief Secretary. See Memo by Capt. Hanitch attached to Memo No. 757/37/22 of 5/ 10/22 in NAE, Calprof 14: C.582/22D. W.A.G.Ormsby-Gore, Report on West Africa, Cmd. 2744, London, 1926, p.116. NAE, C.428/25, Annual Report of the Calabar Province (1926), p. 63. NAI, CSO 26/2, no. 17720, vol. I,Taxation etc., see Memo No. C. 194/1925 of 4/10/26 from the Secretary Southern Provinces (SSP) to the Chief Secretary. Ibid., Taxation etc., p.3. C.Conf. 6/1918 dated 19/6/18 from the Resident of Calabar Province to LGSP in Conf. C.49/1918—Introduction of Universal Taxation in the Southern Provinces.


32. D.C.Dorward, The Development of British Colonial Administration Among the Tiv, 1900–1949’, African Affairs (1969), pp.316–33. 33. NAI, CSO 26/2, no. 17720, vol. I, Taxation, etc., pp.9–10. 34. Ibid., pp.5–6. It should be mentioned that the term Eastern Provinces as used in this period included Warri. 35. Ibid., p.8. 36. Ibid. Subsequent events showed that if Ruxton’s fears were a little ex-aggerated, they were not entirely out of place. Before the first collection was finished certain aspects of the law were challenged before the Supreme Court in Calabar. See CSO 26/2, no.17417, vol. II, see M.P. no. C.468/1928 of 4/11/28. Also, in order not to alienate this class, Major Ruxton had proposed that the treasuries to be set up with the introduction of direct taxation should be called Local Administration Funds and not Native Treasuries. On this he wrote: The term Local Administration Fund is used instead of Native Treasury for the reasons that the word “native” is not used throughout the Ordinance’. Ibid., p.12. 37. Ibid., p.9. 38. Ibid., p.10. 39. Ibid., p.9. 40. Comments on Ruxton’s Draft Bill by R.L.Tabor dated 9/11/26 in CSO 26/2, no. 17720, vol. I, Taxation etc., pp.95–6. 41. Ibid., comments on Ruxton’s Draft Bill by the Acting Chief Secretary, T.S. Thomas, pp.97–100. 42. Ibid., seep.106. 43. Ibid., see Memo. by H.R.Palmer, pp.108–12. 44. Ibid., Memo. by C.W.Alexander on the draft bill, pp.115–6. 45. Ibid., Memo. by H.R.Palmer on the Draft Bill, p.150. 46. Ibid., Memo. dated 18/10/26 by Mr Arnett, on the Draft Bill, p. 150. 47. Ibid., Memo. by H.R.Palmer dated 1/3/27, vol. III, pp.366–7. 48. Ibid., Memo. by C.W.Alexander, vol. I, p.120. 49. Ibid., Memo. dated 18/10/26 by Mr Arnett, Resident, on Ruxton’s Draft Bill, p.151. 50. Ibid., Minutes dated 5/11/26 by G.J. F.Tomlinson, pp.136–9. 51. Ibid. See also the Chief Secretary’s Minute dated 6/11/26. 52. Conf. C.194/1925, vol. II, from LGSP to Honourable AttorneyGeneral. Enclosed in CSO26/2, no. 17720, vol. I, p.152. 53. Ibid. Major Ruxton was not reconciled to the decision to base taxation in the Eastern Provinces and Warri on the NRO. ‘I believe,’ he insisted, ‘the original Draft Bill to have been better suited than the Native Revenue Ordinance to meet conditions in the Eastern Provinces, it having been designed for that express purpose.’ See conf. Memo. 0194/1925 vol. II, dated 10/11/26.


54. See Memorandum on Taxation attached to No. C. 194/195, vol. II, as a Revision of No. 194/1925 of 4/10/26 in CSO26/2, no. 17720, vol. II, p. 172. 55. CSO26/2, no.17720, vol. II, p.274. 56. Ibid., Minute dated 12/12/26, pp. 236–7. 57. Ibid., pp. 291–4. 58. Report of the Aba Commission of Inquiry, Lagos, 1930, p.4. 59. A.E.Afigbo, The Warrant Chiefs, Longman, 1971, chapters 4 and 5; Report of the Aba Commission of Inquiry, p.3. 60. CSO 8/5, Local Despatches; see Memo. to the Chief of Bonny through Herbert Jumbo, dated 1/3/11. 61. Reporting on such aspirants to Warrants and their attitude to assessment, A.L.Weir wrote: ‘From one quarter, however, help was given, and this was from such towns who possessed a man who had a fondness for a warrant. Here, usually it was found that the aspirant was only too willing to supply all the information required and could hardly be restrained in his zeal and eagerness to serve the Government’ CSO 26/3, no. 20646, Assessment Report, Bende Division, p.2. 62. Report of the Aba Commission of Inquiry, pp.4–7. 63. Calprof 16: Conf. 1/26 Introduction of Taxation, 1917–1927, see Memo. from Jeffreys dated Awa 20/6/19. 64. CSO 26/3, no. 20646, Assessment Report, Bende Division, Owerri Province. 65. A.E.Afigbo The Warrant Chiefs, chapter 6. Also see, A.E.Afigbo, ‘Revolution and Reaction in Eastern Nigeria’, in Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria, vol. III no.3, Dec. 1966, pp. 531–57. 66. Report of the Aba Commission of Inquiry, p.93.

Social Studies

100

6 The Newspaper Press in Southern Nigeria, 1880–1900 Fred I.A.Omu

The rise and growth of the newspaper press in Southern Nigeria during the nineteenth century may fairly be regarded as the most significant achievement of Nigerian enterprise at the beginning of the colonial period. Newspapers had an un-distinguished history in Abeokuta and Calabar where Christian missionaries established fortnightly bilingual newspapers during the second half of the nineteenth century.1 But Lagos was the base of an abiding indigenous newspaper movement. Beginning from 1880, Nigerians in Lagos established a political press which proved to be a vigorous and informative vehicle of public thought and expression. Because Nigerians were relegated to inferior status through denial of effective political participation in Crown Colony rule, and through policies of discrimination and oppression, the press was seen as the weapon for satisfying the demands of political and nationalist persuasion and propaganda. From the outset, their newspapers encouraged the spread of literacy, public enlightenment, and aroused a spirit of national awareness. By 1900, after twenty years of gradual growth, the newspaper press had become a promising Nigerian industry and, in politics, the rival of the government. In light of the sacrifices made by the earliest newspapermen, it has been assumed that they were inspired by a high sense of duty to establish newspapers for the purpose of enlightening their countrymen and championing their causes. The news-papers themselves contributed in no small way to create this tradition. They presented themselves as motivated by a ‘strong sense of obligation’ to their country and as performing a public duty which the people did not appear to appreciate. This impression, however, is not borne out by the facts. With perhaps one exception, none of


the newspapermen was wealthy enough to engage in a public service of that nature. Indeed the majority of the pioneer newspapermen fell into two categories: those anxious to recover from financial ruin arising from the bankruptcy of European firms in which they had interests, or from the monopolistic practices of Europeans who dominated the otherwise profitable trade between Lagos and the River Niger; and those in need of employment owing to dismissal from settled jobs, prohibition from legal practice, or incapacitation by illness. In other words, the press was the refuge for those whose careers had been destroyed. This explains why journalism continued to attract new practitioners even though it was often commented that ‘it is by no means a paying venture, rather it is a thankless task, a risk of time and talent to individual disappointment and unpopularity’. The newspaper business, with a small initial outlay and regular though modest income, seemed best suited for persons wishing to recoup their fortunes gradually. However, notwithstanding the economic motive behind the establishment of the early newspapers, the educated elite appreciated their sense of service and demonstrated this not only through sales and advertisements, but also by occasionally contributing to funds to sustain weak newspapers or to pay fines imposed by the courts. The educated elite believed that they could, through newspapers, influence the trend of events and realize their dreams of greater racial identity and dignity. THE GROWTH OF THE NEWSPAPERS In the two closing decades of the nineteenth century, which saw the beginning of the newspaper press, it is remarkable that serious newspaper activity tended to take place only during the first few years of each decade. Important newspapers emerged almost yearly from 1880 to 1883 and then there came a break until 1887, when certain ephemeral newspapers began to appear. Then important newspapers appeared again, almost yearly from 1890 to 1894, with another break of several years and the subsequent emergence in 1898 of ephemeral news-papers. Possible explanation for this coincidence is that in the early 1880s, there was much enthusiasm for establishing news-papers but this soon cooled in the face of the sad realities of newspaper financing. In the early 1890s, the ignition of passions was caused by the propaganda of cultural

THE NEWSPAPER PRESS 103

nationalism and the pressure of British imperialism, particularly in Yorubaland. Of the newspapers published in the nineteenth century, almost all of them were individual or family enterprises and this was to be the pattern until newspaper business was only an arm of the printing establishment without separate accounts. From the point of view of modern journalistic techniques, the newspapers of the nineteenth century were crude productions. The typography was characterized by uneven distribution of types, resulting from the nature of the manually operated hand press. The pages were not numbered and were divided by vertical lines into three almost equal parts. The first and last pages were taken up by advertisements. What could pass for headlines did not exceed one column in width, and there were no photographs. The technical deficiencies of the newspapers can be attributed chiefly to the weak economic basis of the newspapers. The fact was that the newspapermen had no money to purchase improved equipment. They were only able to buy antiquated machinery which served the limited needs of the reading public at the time. From a population of about 37,500 in Lagos (according to the 1881 census), a total of 3,195 people (nine per cent) were classified as civil servants, professionals, and students. This was the core of the literate public on whose support the newspapers depended for their sales. In the 1880s, sales amounted to a mere handful, about 200 copies being sold every week. In the 1890s, circulation fluctuated between 300 and 500 a week. Paid advertisements were a major source of revenue and for most of this period, advertisements took between forty to seventy-five per cent of the printed area of the newspapers. Revenue from sales and advertisements were usually supplemented by job-printing. This revenue was apparently swallowed up by expenditure on newsprint, wages, rent, rates, and court fines. Only a very few newspapers were able to build up the kind of revenue which made reinvestment in improved equipment possible. The Lagos Times The appearance of the Lagos Times on 10 November 1880 fulfilled the expectations of many people in Lagos who since 1876 had looked forward to the inauguration of the first commercial


newspaper in the community. It had been rumoured in 1876 that Richard Beale Blaize, a wealthy businessman, planned to establish a newspaper but nothing happened. Blaize had some previous connections with the press as a compositor for the Anglo-African, the weekly journal of scraps published in Lagos from 1863 to 1865 by the Jamaican printer Robert Campbell in a financially disastrous attempt to stimulate popular interest in book knowledge.2 Blaize called his news-paper the Lagos Times and Gold Coast Colony Advertiser in recognition of the marriage of Lagos with the Gold Coast Colony which lasted from 1874 to 1886. The Lagos Times appeared twice a month and sold for six pence to subscribers and nine pence to non-subscribers. In establishing the Lagos Times, Blaize pointed out that it was a philanthropic effort and not inspired by ‘the hope of large pecuniary returns’. He appealed to ‘all true Africans’ to give the newspaper ‘that earnest, intelligent and sustained support’ without which the venture would fail. He pledged that his news-paper would be a ‘bold and uncompromising denouncer’ of wrong and would avoid scurrilities and personalities, the bane of many a West African newspaper at that time.3 Statements of policy and principle such as these formed the basis of the ‘prospectus’ of each newly established newspaper. The news-papers did take their declarations seriously and in the case of the Lagos Times, which was edited for a time by Mojola Agbebi, the famed cultural nationalist, every effort was made to balance radicalism with decorum. Governor Alfred Moloney must have been impressed by the quality of the newspaper as he contributed several articles on the need for a rubber industry.4 The Lagos Times apparently paid its way and its success stimulated the rise of new newspapers in 1882 and 1883. The competition threw the Lagos Times into financial difficulties and ultimate collapse in November 1883.5 The Lagos Observer J.Blackwell Benjamin, the founder and editor of the Lagos Observer, was employed for nine years as head book-keeper and Assistant Agent in the European firm of Walsh and Brothers Ltd. The firm went bankrupt in 1880. He then became an auctioneer but as this profession did not pay enough, he turned to journalism inspired by the success of the Lagos Times. His main support came from Dr V.T.King, a medical practitioner with a


deep love for English literature, and by Robert Campbell. Campbell was chairman of the newspaper’s Editorial Supervision Committee. Both King and Campbell died in 1884, to the unspeakable grief of Benjamin who, notwithstanding the great setback, carried on the venture single-handedly until July 1890 when it expired. In terms of life-span, the Observer was the most successful newspaper of the nineteenth century. The Observer came out on 4 February 1882, and was to appear fortnightly. Prices were a shade lower than those of the Times, subscribers paying five pence and non-subscribers seven pence for single copies. The tone of the Observer was more vigorous and on the public questions of the time, its persistent pressure for reform turned it into the symbol of the intellectual aggression which characterized the last two decades of the nineteenth century. Its caustic criticism of the Judiciary led to the prosecution of the editor in 1882. From the point of view of journalistic development the Observer made much impact introducing features such as ‘Letters to Eminent Men’, ‘By the Way’, a gossip column, and ‘Tit-Bits’, a fun column. The Eagle and Lagos Critic The impact of the Times and the Observer apparently drove the administration of Lieutenant-Governor W.B.Griffith to encourage the establishment of a newspaper which would support its views. This is a fair deduction in view of the fact that considerations other than profit must have accounted for the establishment of a third newspaper in a small community in which only a few could afford to subscribe to two newspapers, not to speak of three. What was more remarkable, the Eagle and Lagos Critic, whose stated objective was, ‘to balance opinions when they are in opposition’, was the only newspaper which carried government advertisements. Backed by this indirect subsidy, the newspaper adopted a generally pro-government attitude. The monthly newspaper, appeared on 31 March 1883 under the editorship of Owen Emerick Macaulay, a grandson of Bishop Crowther and brother of Herbert Macaulay. A printer and a student of Greek language and history, Owen Macaulay wished his newspaper to be marked by ‘the fearlessness and acute observation characteristic of an eagle’, but it had neither the


attributes of an eagle nor the resources of a critic. Its circulation must have been very small indeed and its price of seven pence a copy could not have been calculated to improve its sales. But thanks to the government subsidy, the newspaper continued to appear until 31 October 1888, when it disappeared. Other Newspapers The Lagos press of 1883 had its critics. While its growth delighted some, the nature of this growth filled others with dismay. It was felt that at least one of the three newspapers should have been in a Nigerian language so that, by addressing itself to the masses, it could put itself ‘in the pathway of real power’. This campaign of cultural nationalism found its clearest expression in an anonymous letter to the Times: They all address themselves only to the comparatively small number of English reading people on the island… No thought is taken of the large bulk of people to be found in connection with every church on the island and in the interior who can only appreciate a vernacular newspaper… The very large number of Yoruba readers are all neglected and left to suffer from intellectual starvation as if they also are not in the country and as if their help is not needed for their own advancement and the building up of the Negro race.6 The call for a newspaper in Yoruba was not to be heeded until five years later. But shortly before then, on 17 December 1887, P.Adolphus Marke brought out a tiny newspaper of two columns which he called the Mirror. It was to appear weekly and to sell for three pence. Very little is known of Marke’s background beyond the fact that he was the local agent for a European firm based in London and might have had financial problems. Notwithstanding Marke’s remark that ‘small axes cut big trees’, he had modest aims for his newspaper which died with the issue of 24 November 1888. Nonetheless, the Mirror brought the idea of weekly and cheaper newspapers which was not lost on the community. Between 1888 and 1890, two newspapers appeared. One was the Iwe Irohin Eko, a tiny Yoruba-language fortnightly, owned and edited by the printer Andrew W.Thomas whose aim was to


exploit the growing interest in Yoruba language and literature. The newspaper, which appeared on 3 November 1888 and sold for two pence, was characterized by features on Yoruba traditions, short stories, and folk lore. It expired finally in 1892. The other newspaper was the Lagos Weekly Times, which came out on 3 May 1890 and sold for three pence. It emerged as a kind of partnership between R.B.Blaize and a Liberian emigrant, John Payne Jackson. This was the outcome of constant prodding by Jackson, who wanted Blaize to allow him to revive the defunct Lagos Times. Blaize hesitated because eight years earlier he had had to terminate Jackson’s appointment as book-keeper of the Times because Jackson was always drunk. By the new arrangement, Jackson was given a ‘trial editorship’ for a year. He was to supervise all sales and job-printing but was to submit a strict accounting at the end of three months, so that Blaize’s rent (which had been provisionally fixed at five pounds a month) could be finally determined. Thereupon, the name of Lagos Weekly Times was given to the newspaper and a bound three-year volume of the Times was given to Jackson as a guide. At the end of three months, Jackson could not render any account; even after a two month extension he failed to do so. Blaize thought of terminating the pact but friends intervened and Jackson promised to discharge his financial obligations. However, Jackson’s accounting did not impress Blaize who felt scandalized that an editor ‘who should be a man of good morals and principles should so often be found in a state of helpless in-toxication’. On 29 November, Blaize discontinued the Weekly Times and arranged to revert to the old name of Lagos Times, from 6 December. At first Jackson acquiesced to this, but shortly afterwards he resisted dramatically with hand bills disputing Blaize’s right to discontinue the Weekly Times. When Blaize brought out the Lagos Times, Jackson countered with the Weekly Times, which he printed elsewhere. The feud welled up and both newspapers continued to appear amidst threats of court action by Blaize. Eventually, Jackson backed down, announcing that from the beginning of the following year, the newspaper would assume the new name of the Lagos Weekly Record. It was thus in circumstances of crisis and confusion that the Lagos Weekly Record, destined to be the leading news-paper in West Africa, was born.


The Lagos Weekly Record The Blaize-Jackson quarrel, which was to poison the relations of the two families for a long time, had a significant effect upon the history of the Record, for Jackson appears to have resolved not only to outsell the rival Lagos Times, to drive it into a second and final collapse, to force his former proprietor out of the news-paper trade, but also to father a newspaper organization which would be commercially successful and possibly overshadow Blaize’s commercial eminence. Jackson did not pretend, as some of his contemporaries often did, that he established his nesspaper mainly as a service to the community. As he was to assert a few years later, ‘Our journalistic venture is a private enterprise undertaken for profit. We do not pose as a public benevolent institution nor a philanthropic charity’.7 However, his concern for profit did not detract from his strong sense of duty to the community. Indeed, as will be seen later, he was the tribune of the people, a great evangelist of social and political reform, and an acknowledged African nationalist. The Record would not have come into existence without the support of Jackson’s personal friends who supplied the initial capital. Men like Dr John Randle, a medical practitioner and future political leader, made substantial contributions. From 1892 to 1900 Jackson received an annual subsidy of about £150 from the government ostensibly for advertising space. This was the handiwork of Governor G.T.Carter whose object was to win Jackson’s friendship. Jackson, over-appreciative of Carter’s work, put the Record in the awkward position of being at once the mouth-piece of public opinion and an ally of the government. When the subsidy ceased in 1900, three years after Carter left Nigeria, the Record was firmly established. Jackson started by hiring the printing press of Owen Emerick Macaulay which was soon abandoned for that of J.B.Benjamin. In the mid-1890s, he obtained a second-hand printing machine from England which he christened ‘Samadu Press’, after Samori Touré of modern day Guinea. He enlarged the format of the newspaper in July 1895, a work of expansion which in turn led to the transfer of offices in January 1904 from Broad street to a new and permanent residence, Samadu Quarters, at the Marina. Jackson’s journalism was unique in style and substance. The display of great learning, a feature of the times, was reflected in


Jackson’s writings. He combined rhetoric with scholarly information. He read widely and often made effective use of quotations and references. His column ‘Review of the Past Year’ which he began in 1893 was the quintessence of Jacksonian journalism. Jackson owed his inspiration to a variety of influences. Born in Cape Palmas, Liberia, on 25 March 1848, he inherited from his father, Thomas John Jackson, a conscientious nature as well as an incisive intellect. Thomas John Jackson was an emigrant from Maryland in the United States, who distinguished himself as town councillor, chief justice, local preacher and missionary of the Methodist Church. He died when John Payne Jackson was only four years old, a tragedy which must have inclined the future African nationalist to a spirit of independence early in his life. Jackson was educated under Bishop Payne, a brilliant and notable educator for whom he was named. Payne’s erudition and his penchant for quotation and argument made a lasting impression on Jackson. Jackson’s initial ambition was to be a prosperous merchant and to this end, he travelled extensively through West Africa finally settling in Lagos in the 1860s. He worked there for some time for the prominent merchant J.S. Leigh but soon began trading in palm products on his own. Owing to successive setbacks, brought about by European rivalry and monopoly, he abandoned trade and found employment as a bookkeeper on the Lagos Times. The collapse of Jackson’s commercial venture must have been an important factor in his crusade against European imperialism. The ideas of Dr E.W.Blyden, the indomitable African nationalist held perhaps the greatest attraction for Jackson. An unsurpassed admirer of Blyden, he never tired of quoting him. It is not without significance that when Blyden died, in 1912, the Record came out with its columns in thick black. The Lagos Standard An important contemporary of the Record was the Lagos Standard, founded and edited by George Alfred Williams with unbroken success for twenty-five years. The impressive career of the Record has now overshadowed that of the Standard yet there is considerable evidence that, in the early 1890s when Jackson’s friendship with Governor Carter weakened his news-paper, it was


the Standard which stood firmly as the medium of opposition to the government and established itself as the greatest champion of Nigerian cultural rebirth. George Williams was born in Freetown on 11 October 1851, to parents of Egba origin and was educated at the Sierra Leone Grammar School where he learned printing. From the 1870s to the early 1890s, Williams’ career was similar to that of Jackson’s. He came to Lagos as an employee of J.S.Leigh in 1871 and was posted to the Niger at about the same time as Jackson was sent to the Brass River. George Williams soon left Leigh’s employment to establish a business on his own but European trading operations eliminated him. He decided to return to Lagos where he took up free-lance journalism. Williams’ Egba connections explain the Standard’s involvement in Egba affairs. His disillusionment in commercial affairs provided the stimulus for his deeply nationalistic persuasion. He was one of the nine founders of the United Native African Church, a primary force in the African Church Movement. The motto of the Standard, ‘For God, the King and the People’, which he borrowed from the Independent of Freetown, ex-emplified his belief in the ‘inseparableness of African nationalism and Christianity’. In establishing the Standard, Williams had the financial support of a government official named Frank Rohrwerger and a Nigerian lawyer named Kitoyi (later Sir Kitoyi) Ajasa, who later founded and edited the Nigerian Pioneer. Ajasa was a man of moderate opinions and, with Rohrwerger, laid down a firm pro-government line. Williams, however, brought out the Standard with forceful attacks on the government. Pressure was brought to bear on him to cool his enthusiasm but this failed woefully. Ajasa and Rohrwerger decided to withdraw their support thus leaving Williams to battle his way to success. When the Standard was launched, two newspapers were already in existence, the Record and the Lagos Echo; the latter was established on 1 September 1894, by a group headed by Leigh.8 They had floated the Lagos Printing and Publishing Company (LPPC) with a share capital of £500, with some shares offered to the general public. The repeated reshuffling of the editorial staff and the persistent controversy over mis-management of funds between the shareholders and the LPPC Board of Directors, were to reduce the effectiveness of the Echo and finally to cause its collapse on 16 July 1898. But in 1894, when the Standard


appeared, the Echo was full of promise, thanks to the efforts of what one critic described as ‘controversial and polemic writers and hot-headed editors’.9 The Standard, therefore, had to contend with two major rivals at the outset but in time its competition was limited to the Record. The two newspapers had approximately the same circulation and about equal expatriate advertisement patronage but the Standard was more popular with indigenous advertisers owing to the Record’s pro-government policy. Patent medicines dominated advertisements by local businessmen and it is noteworthy that almost all the local patent medicine dealers patronized the Standard. By the end of the century, the paper had done so well that in November 1904, its size increased from four to eight pages which became the standard of newspaper size. The Standard also had the distinction of carrying photographs at a time when the necessary equipment was not generally available, and when the advent of pictorial journalism was very much in the future. In a ‘Picture Gallery’, photographs of four leading members of the community were published in 1895.10 Weekly Newspapers In the 1890s, a total of five weekly newspapers were established. In addition to the three which have been mentioned, there were two other obscure publications. One was the Spectator which appears to have collapsed soon after it was established on 1 July 1893. No copy of the newspaper seems to have survived. The other was the Reporter which was brought out on 12 September 1898 by Victor P.Mason. Victor Mason had worked for the Echo until its demise in 1898, whereupon he decided to launch his own newspaper. The Reporter, however, proved a failure and was suspended in July 1899. Victor Mason revived it on 17 March 1900 under the pseudonym of Sydney Graye and renamed it the Wasp. But, like its predecessor, it had no sting and was poorly produced. It was driven into swift collapse in August 1900 as a result of a libel action instituted against it by Samuel Percy Jackson, the Chief Registrar of the Supreme Court.11


PRESS AND POLITICS Political controversy awaited the African-conducted news-papers for by 1880, popular discontent with various aspects of government had found considerable expression in British newspapers, particularly the London-based African Times.12 Separation from the Gold Coast to which Lagos was incorporated in 1874, the absence of a representative assembly, the problems of education, the defects of the judiciary, and the role of European missionaries were some of the major issues of debate and agitation. In addition, the Kiriji War had broken out in Yorubaland with Ibadan engaged in war against a wide coalition. The Yoruba background of the educated elite in Lagos ensured a degree of partisanship which was revealed in the verbal war on the pages of the African Times. With the arrival of local news-papers, all those hitherto discouraged by the costs of postage could now leap into the journalistic fray. However, from the point of view of their effectiveness, the newspapers did not begin to play a major role in the conflict in Yorubaland until the 1890s, a period during which a new phase of vigorous journalism began. Vigour of expression was a characteristic of Nigerian newspapers from their birth. They assumed that they should enjoy the same degree of press freedom as British newspapers. A correspondent represented this feeling when he remarked in an article to the Times, ‘Liberty of the press is enjoyed by the rich and poor in all Christendom especially in the mother country; and Lagos being a branch, why cannot we enjoy it here? We are entitled to it!’ A few newspaper opinions can be cited to demonstrate how the newspapermen spoke their minds during the first few years of the indigenous newspaper movement. In 1882, the Observer published a series of articles on the poor quality of Lagos judges. The following was typical: Our courts of law, although just at present all conducted by a learned and efficient judge, are generally presided over by amateur lawyers…to the terror of unfortunate suitors who are obliged to resort to them. Some of these amateurs are known to be men steeped in the most bitter Negro hatred such as is often found in the vulgar West Indian plantation overseers.13


For this broadside against the judiciary, J.Blackwell Benjamin was prosecuted and convicted for contempt. His reaction was to make an impassioned plea for freedom of expression. Another issue was representation. The vision of ultimate independence was given by the Lagos Times in 1881: ‘It should always be borne in mind that the present order of things will not last forever. A time will come when the British Colonies on the West Coast of Africa, Lagos included, will be left to regulate their own internal and external affairs’. Later in the year it lamented, ‘No council, no House Assembly exists in which the people sit as their own representatives’. Two years later, the newspaper moaned that ‘a people who had governed themselves…are denied every participation with the government…and compelled to be mere spectators of what the government does.’14 That the days of acquiescence seemed to be over was suggested by the mood of a contributor who signed himself ‘Justice’: Such invidious distinctions as are becoming too much to be endured patiently and by which one class of individuals not because of any superior attainments but from natural colour must always take the lead and which engenders in that favoured class, pride, arrogance and a spirit of oppression are by no means complimentary either to those who perpetuate them or those who suffer them!15 In 1886, after Lagos was separated from the Gold Coast, the Observer raised the issue of representation to a new height. It wanted a legislature composed of men whose ‘unofficialism’ would permit them to denounce openly and fearlessly ‘acts of misrule, abuse of power, official terrorism and nameless annoyances’. The newspaper declaimed: In the name of the whole of the Lagos community, we ask… how long will we tamely submit to taxation without representation?… There should arise from Lagos one general cry for political freedom loud enough to reach the ears of Downing Street, if not louder still, to penetrate the Houses of Parliament.16 Education was perhaps the greatest issue of debate for reasons that are well-known. In pressing the government for more and


improved educational facilities, the educated elite felt scandalized by the fact that the government spent less than two per cent of its revenue on education by way of grants to mission schools. ‘That this government’, remarked the Observer, ‘being professedly Christian, civilized and enlightened, should give such scanty stimulus to education is very shameful and dis-creditable’.17 The demands voiced by the newspapers included the establishment of good elementary schools by the government, and, if the rumour was true that the CMS was planning to give it up, the conversion of the buildings of Fourah Bay College into ‘a University of West Africa’.18 The promulgation of the Education Ordinance of 1882 introduced two types of schools, the government schools and the grant-aided schools. It was a welcome development but the newspapers disagreed over the provision that religious instruction in government schools should be optional. The Times, owned by Blaize, an ardent Anglican, criticized the education law for its failure to provide for compulsory religious instruction. Under the newspaper’s auspices a petition was forwarded to the British government. The Observer, however, thought that given the religious differences in Nigeria, it would be ‘manifestly unfair’ to give ascendancy to any one form of religion over another. It therefore denounced the petition as ‘the work of a clique whose pretensions to represent the Natives of Lagos…we entirely repudiate as unfounded and officious’.19 From the foregoing, it can be seen that the press began as a virile and articulate organ of opinion destined to grow into an important social and political force. The newspapers gave ex-pression to the discontent and aspirations of the educated elite in respect to certain broad issues which were to loom large in society and politics in subsequent decades. As the eighties progressed, the newspapers increased pressure on the government demanding British intervention in Yorubaland. They ex-pressed angry opinions against the triumph of British imperialism in both the Eastern and Western Niger Delta, the rise of the Royal Niger Company, the dispute over the form of administration in the Oil Rivers, and the crisis in the Niger Mission. The newspapers may not have succeeded in effecting great changes or revisions of policy in these matters, but their role was of importance in that they encouraged the spread of information and education and also contributed to the stirring of nationalist awareness.


Nigerian nationalism owed its rise in the nineteenth century to a variety of factors which have been adequately examined by Professor Ajayi.20 However, writers on this theme do not stress the role of the press as an outlet for and generator of nationalism. Aside from the educative role which is important in itself, the newspapers promoted a desire for effective African participation in government by creating disaffection through constant identification of grievances, and by awakening a sense of racial pride and identity by carrying out cultural propaganda. Cultural propaganda in the Lagos newspapers dates back to the very beginning of the newspaper movement. For example, in the controversy over the Education Ordinance of 1882, the initial provision that the medium of instruction in schools should be English drew from the Times the warning that ‘denationalizing tendencies’ would not be tolerated. It declared, ‘we shall not sit tamely to witness the murder, death and burial of one of those important distinguishing national and racial marks that God has given to us’. It was convinced that the provision would produce in the minds of the common people the deepest pre-judice against their own languages and social attitudes. The following year, a demand was made for a newspaper in a Nigerian language. And when in 1884 the policy underlying the establishment of the Niger Mission was reversed by the appointment of a European General Secretary, the Observer remarked, ‘the question of the capabilities of a whole race was involved’. From 1884 onwards, the cultural propaganda in the newspapers increased rapidly. The establishment of the Yorubalanguage Iwe Irohin Eko in 1888 both reflected and strengthened the cultural outlook. With the emergence of John Payne Jackson and George Alfred Williams in the nineties, a new impetus was given to the cultural movement. Both news-papermen were the embodiment of cultural nationalism. Williams was the more aggressive and, more than any other newspaper in Lagos before the First World War, the Standard attached a new value to Yoruba language and tradition. ‘Yoruba-land has no literature’, it lamented in 1896, ‘her history and traditions, her wars and troubles, her songs and folklore, her parables, proverbs, axioms… are collected…from the mental storage of elders’. It also remarked, ‘as to dress, the Europeanized African is a nondescript, a libel on his country and a blot on civilization’. He is a ‘geographical, a physiological and a psychological monstrosity’. The Standard


stimulated greater interest in the Yoruba language to such an extent that in 1908 a church magazine was to carry advertisements in Yoruba. This achievement was to lead the newspaper to start a campaign against the mixing of Yoruba with English in common speech and to call for the establishment of a Society for the Preservation of the Yoruba Language. The campaign of cultural renaissance, was the background for the vigorous newspaper activity which distinguished political developments from the 1890s on, and which early in the present century was to drive the government into attempts to control the press. The first event introducing this decade of reanimated newspaper pressure was one which, in retrospect, was an astonishing reversal of nationalism. The Anglo-Ijebu crisis and war of 1891–2, far from provoking an outburst of newspaper protest, received the enthusiastic encouragement and support of the newspaper press. If one may not go as far as saying that the newspaper precipitated the war, one would say that they played a substantial part in fomenting a mood for war in government and people. The manner of their involvement has been gone into some detail elsewhere. It is sufficient here to mention that in escalating the pressure for British intervention in Yorubaland, the newspapers backed up the government of Governor G.T. Carter in its warlike measures against the Ijebu and Egba. The Record’s warmongering in support of the British war effort should not surprise anyone reading relevant back issues of the newspaper. When, in May 1892, the strength of public opinion helped to drive the government into war with Ijebu, Jackson accompanied the Lagos army as war correspondent. Jackson’s role in the war was the beginning of a life-long friendship between him and Carter. As has been stated earlier, Carter paid Jackson from public funds an annual subsidy of about £150 ostensibly in return for advertising space. He also recommended that Jackson be awarded a military medal but this was turned down by the Colonial Office. Governor Carter reached the acme of his popularity after he succeeded in bringing nearly all of Yorubaland under British influence. But African support for him waned rapidly. The economic results of intervention disappointed the expectations of many whose attitude had been governed by considerations of trade prospects. What was worse, British policy in Yorubaland revealed that intervention was the pathway to occupation. It came to be realized that the British had taken over Yorubaland ‘by a


master-stroke’. As the educated elite grasped the significance of British intervention and regretted their naïveté, they began a long, belated struggle to arrest British occupation and control. The disenchantment with the policy of pacification found an outlet in greater scrutiny of government policy in Lagos and in Yorubaland. Endless harassment became the lot of the British officials, interpreters, and soldiers in Yorubaland who faced a constant stream of hostile propaganda. The Hausa soldiers were the villainous gang. The following was a typical comment: The soldiers of the Lagos government placed in the different towns in the interior in the interest of order and peace have not secured for themselves or this government a good reputation. From time to time reports have been borne to this Colony testifying that they have ceased to keep the peace; that on the contrary they have turned themselves loose upon the people filling up the role vacated by kidnappers and rioters. The soldiers have taken the place of marauders and freebooters. From Ijebu to the further interior there is one painful cry echoing from town to town, from city to city of the evil deeds of the Lagos constabulary. Goods have been seized from traders, maidens have been assaulted, youths have been plundered, men have been browbeaten and women have been robbed. Neither the family altar not the family hearth has escaped their daring. Travellers of all ages have suffered from their cupidity, avarice, rudeness and effrontery and there has been none to deliver, none to redress. Fresh dread, doubt and unrest prevail in the whole country.21 This monstrous picture of the Hausa soldiers was painted time and again to the anguish of those who saw themselves as ‘the dupes of an easily accommodated administration’. It is not surprising that the first major crisis after 1893, the bombardment of Oyo, generated what Governor Carter was later to describe as ‘a great outcry’. Captain R.C.Bower, Resident at Ibadan, was responsible for the Oyo tragedy. Exact details of what happened at Oyo were to be ascertained later but meanwhile the news reaching Lagos had aroused the newspapers to action. The Record came out with a strong attack on Bower and described the proceedings at Oyo as ‘grossly outrageous and deplorably disastrous’.22 A week later, the newspaper commented that ‘the incident is marked with features


of bloodthirsty cruelty for which there was neither provocation nor justification and exhibits a wanton and ruthless disposition to shed human blood!’ It went on to assert that Bower’s duty was to uphold the authority of ‘native governments’ and not to interfere in their internal affairs. It therefore held Bower ‘liable for the destruction and loss of life which his excessive zeal had entailed!’23 The Standard also severely criticized Bower’s action and described the incident as a ‘diabolical and memorable tragedy’. But much heat was taken off the crisis when it became known that the Alafin, notwithstanding the loss of his palace and about a fifth of the town, had confessed to personal indiscretion on his part thereby exonerating Bower from blame. The Record ex-pressed regret for hastily condemning Bower while the Standard expressed dismay at the turn of events.24 The Record was of course a friend of Carter’s government and it demonstrated its loyalty by making apologies for the misbehaviour of the Hausa soldiers advising their victims to bear their afflictions ‘philosophically’. In view of this, it cannot but be surprising that the Record did not spring to the defence of Bower. The attitude of the newspaper has led some to speculate that it was influenced by Jackson’s Oyo connections. Jackson’s Yoruba connections, if any, were with Ekiti through his wife, Mrs Mary Jackson, the daughter of Elizabeth and John Thompson who traced their origin to Ekitiland. The fact, however, is that Jackson was never a stooge. Although he often wrote in support of Carter’s policy, he spoke his own mind on many issues. For instance, in the agitation over the proposal to introduce electricity rates in 1895, Jackson’s leadership of the movement made a strong impression on Acting Governor Denton.25 And two years later, Jackson was in his element when he backed the popular cause in the Railway Terminus Controversy. The issue was whether the coast-end terminus of the proposed railway should be in Lagos Island or at Iddo. In a feasibility report compiled for the government in 1895, Iddo was preferred on account of the great cost involved in fixing the terminus in the island. On the basis of the report, a decision was taken to locate the terminus at Iddo. Certain Lagos merchants requested early in 1897 that the decision be reversed. They argued, as the newspapers were to reveal later, that the commercial importance of Lagos would depreciate and property in the town would lose its value if the bulk of the trade shifted to Iddo. Their request was turned down. This


provoked a newspaper campaign to force the government to reverse its decision. The newspapers expatiated upon the implications for the trade of Lagos island. According to them, the community of Lagos would be involved ‘in a deplorable and irretrievable state of bankruptcy’.26 As the campaign gathered momentum, a petition was forwarded to the Secretary of State which bore the stamp of Jackson’s editorials. While awaiting a reply to the petition, it was learned that the African Trade section of the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce had passed a resolution that the terminus be located at Ebute Metta on the mainland. This resolution was a direct contradiction of the decision of the Manchester Chamber of Commerce to await further local inquiry. Jackson was beside himself with rage. The Record protested: by which a number of individuals thousands of miles away under-take to determine and dispose of a matter largely and seriously affecting the interests of a community without any reference or regard to the opinion or will of the community concerned, is to say the least, an irregular and arbitrary proceeding!27 The newspaper went on to relate the Liverpool resolution to the character of the British colonial system: The British West African Colonies have the honour of enjoying a most unenviable position. They are under the most absolute form of autocratic government the worst feature of which is that the one who wields this absolute power has no personal experience whatever of the countries governed, while on the other hand the people themselves have little or no voice at all in the administration of their affairs. It is not surprising then that the Colonies should have for many years remained in a condition of unprogressive stagnation. Finally, the Record remarked, that Lagos afforded ‘a most impressive illustration of the irregularity and injudiciousness’ of British colonial government. And in a second editorial headed ‘What shall the harvest be?’, the newspaper represented the average Englishman as unreliable.


Not long after the Railway Terminus Controversy blew over, the newspapers found themselves at the centre of controversy which threatened the relations between Nigerians and Europeans in Lagos. In the evening of 10 August, Governor McCallum, who succeeded Carter, informed the European members of the Executive Committee of the Lagos Chamber of Commerce that a state of emergency had arisen and that all Europeans should take precautions to protect themselves and their property. The cause of the alarm was a mutiny involving some policemen, eight of whom had been arrested.28 The Governor would seem to have feared that difficulties with the police could render the Europeans open to attack by disreputable elements. The alarmed European population placed themselves in a state of alert as if they were expecting a rise of the indigenous population. Indeed, the intelligence obtained by the Record, which made the disclosure, was that the Europeans had anticipated a mass revolt against the government and themselves. The news created a feeling of disquietude and bewilderment throughout Lagos. Popular reaction was represented in the newspapers which saw the events as ‘unprecedented in their nature and calculated to be prejudicial in their effects upon the character and reputation of the African community!’ The Record described the incident as ‘a grave blunder’ and as ‘fuss and bluster over nothing!’ It was described as an absurd notion which could originate ‘only in an affected brain or disturbed imagination!’ The newspaper questioned why the African members of the Legislative Council were not taken into confidence. ‘This discrimination’ it concluded, ‘bears a significance which highly impugns the probity of the government’. The newspapers called for a protest rally which took place on 21 August at the Glover Memorial Hall. George Alfred Williams was secretary. A lengthy memo which condemned the action of the Governor and reaffirmed loyalty to the British government was forwarded to the Secretary of State.29 Criticism by the European members of the Executive Committee of the Chamber of Commerce eventually led to the dissolution of the Committee. Governor McCallum must have suffered some torment from the vehemence of the newspapers. From his arrival in April 1897, in the middle of the Railway Terminus Controversy, until his departure in May 1899, shortly after his abortive attempt to codify and amplify the existing criminal law, he remained a target of


unsettling criticism. He was hardly six months in office when the Standard dismissed his administration as ‘notorious for hurry and worry, for indiscretion and precipitancy!’30 At the end of the Governor’s first year, the newspaper concluded that this was ‘a misfit’.31 Two months later, it described the Governor’s promotion from Colonial Engineer in the Straits Settlement to the governorship of Lagos as ‘extraordinary and bewildering!’32 But notwithstanding the opposition of the news-papers and, in particular, the apparent about-face of the Record, McCallum took no steps to muzzle the press. However, the story was different with his successor, William Macgregor. News of Macgregor’s achievements in British New Guinea had preceded him to Lagos where his arrival in May was hailed with enthusiasm in the newspapers. The Record saw his record as that of ‘an enlightened and sagacious administrator’.33 A year later, however, the newspaper concluded that ‘the hopes and expectations’ inspired by the Governor’s appointment ‘have been sadly disappointed’, because the political affairs of the colony had become ‘paralyzed by a policy of indifference and drift!’34 When Macgregor departed from Lagos on leave on 1st July, the Standard mockingly noted the scarcity of well-wishers at the wharf.35 These hostile and contemptuous offerings continued with greater intensity into the present century and drove Macgregor to seek to regulate the newspapers. At first he sought to intimidate Jackson by cutting off the subsidy, but this had the opposite effect. Jackson entered upon a course of fervent opposition which was to lead him to reaffirm his absolute nationalist commitment in 1905. Macgregor’s reaction was to introduce a newspaper law which required newspapers to deposit a fairly large sum with the government as caution money.36 But this did not prove a restraint. For the newspapers, the closing years of the nineteenth century were the beginning of impassioned journalism. The increasing awareness of nationalism, the consolidation of the newspaper industry, the growing self-confidence of the news-papers arising from their appreciation of their effectiveness, and the emergence of able newspapermen, all contributed to mould the character of the newspaper movement which was destined to play a crucial role in Nigeria’s social and political development in the twentieth century.


NOTES 1. Abeokuta’s Iwe Irohin is well-known. (See Fred I.A.Omu, ‘The Iwe Irohin, 1859–1867’ in Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria, 4, 1, pp.35–44.) Less well-known are the bilingual fortnightly Unwana Efik and Obukpong Efik established in Calabar in 1885 and 1886 respectively and also the monthly Old Calabar Observer, started by the same Presbyterians in 1902. Sir Ralph Moor’s proposal to introduce a crippling newspaper law in the Protectorate of South Nigeria in order to prevent the rise of a vigorous press as in Lagos, forced the Presbyterians to close the Observer after the issue of December 1903. 2. Fred I.A.Omu, ‘The Anglo-African, 1863–65’, Nigerian Magazine, 90 (September 1966), pp.206–12. 3. A reader of the Lagos Times sickened by the vulgar attacks on individuals in West African newspapers, observed in 1883, ‘I don’t think it can be said we are people who are fond of writing to and for papers when we have not a personal interest to serve, a personal grudge to revenge or a personal pique to display’. See ‘A Native’ to Lagos Times, 22 August 1883. 4. Governor Moloney’s letters to the Lagos Times were reprinted in a pamphlet which sold for three pence. 5. The last issue appeared on 24 November. 6. ‘A Native’ to Lagos Times, 22 August 1883. 7. 21 April 1894. 8. The Board of Directors included Rev James Johnson, J.Egerton Shyngle, and G.H.Savage. The last two were solicitor and secretary respectively. They both resigned in December 1894. 9. J.B.Benjamin, formerly of the Lagos Observer was the first editor of the Echo but very little is known of his successors. It is a measure of the obscurity of this newspaper that no copy of it has survived in available collections. 10. Photographs published included those of Z.A.Williams, a merchant, Rev Mojola Agbebi, and J.J.Thomas’ daughter. The first photograph was that of a European. 11. Samuel Percy Jackson v.Chris Mason (1900), reported in Wasp, 31 March and 28 April 1900. 12. 10 November 1880. 13. 12 May 1882. 14. 23 May 1883. 15. 3 July 1886. 16. 4 December 1886. 17. See Lagos Times, 26 January 1881; 11 May 1881; 11 January 1882.


18. Lagos Times, 20 July 1882; 13 June 1883. 19. Lagos Observer, 17 August 1882. 20. J.F.Ade. Ajayi, ‘Nineteenth century origins of Nigerian nationalism’, Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria, 2, 2 (1961). 21. Lagos Standard, 6 March 1895; see also issues of 2 September and 23 December 1896; 22 March 1898; 18 October 1899; 7 March 1900; 11 April 1900; and Lagos Weekly Record, 9 January 1896. 22. 23 November 1895. 23. 30 November 1895. 24. Lagos Weekly Record, 15 February 1896; Lagos Standard, 19 February 1896. 25. See CO 147/100, Denton to Chamberlain, 27 August 1895. 26. Lagos Weekly Record, 13 March 1897. Also 20 March, 27 March, 3 April, 10 April and 15 May 1897. Lagos Standard, 5 August 1896; 17 March, 7 April and 19 May 1897. 27. 3 April 1897. 28. By a new regulation, the police were required, after the normal six hours of duty, to proceed to Kakawa Street and remain there for another six hours as a reserve force in case of fire. 29. CO 147/116, McCallum to Chamberlain, 29 August 1897. The Colonial Secretary replied only that he did not doubt the loyalty of the people of Lagos. CO 147/116, Chamberlain to McCallum, 19 October 1897. 30. 20 October 1897. 31. 11 May 1898. 32. 13 July 1898. 33. 14 May 1899, also 10 June 1899. 34. 30 June 1900. See also Open Letter of ‘Junius’ to Macgregor in the Lagos Standard, 14 March and 27 June 1900. 35. 4 July 1900. 36. For details of the measure and the agitation against it, see Fred I.A. Omu, ‘The dilemma of press freedom in colonial Africa, the West African example’, Journal of African History, 9, 2, pp.229–98.

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7 The Nigeria Union of Teachers: 1930– 65 Uga Onwuka

An important organ of development in Nigeria that has hardly received the mention it merits is the Nigeria Union of Teachers. Yet no history of modern Nigeria can claim completion without an account of the part played by this union. This chapter is intended to serve two purposes: first, to draw attention to the rise, problems, and achievements of the NUT up to 1965; second, the shortcomings in details may arouse the interest of many people who may possess such information which would be necessary for a detailed historical account of the NUT. As regards the choice of dates, it is worth noting that the first mention of a union of teachers in the Annual Report of the Education Department of Nigeria was in 1930. The political situation in Nigeria since 1965 has not been conducive to normal trade union activities. This brief account of the NUT will emphasize two common phenomena. One is that when practitioners of any craft are moved by the recognition of common problems and interests, the unseen forces of development impel them to form professional associations. The other is that employers or capitalists subtly or overtly attempt to hinder such combinations of employees. Long before the inauguration of the Nigeria Union of Teachers in 1931, teachers in various parts of Southern Nigeria had begun to sense the danger of insecurity in their profession. There was the apparent lack of a future for teachers. They thought of the various forms of injustices they suffered at the hands of their employers. Whenever a new Education Code came into force, certificated teachers were required to requalify by taking another examination for the certificate they had already obtained. Their conditions of service were anything but satisfactory. Soon after the boom years, 1926–9, the great depression set in with resultant cuts in teachers’ salaries. This stimulated a sporadic outbreak of associations of


teachers in Southern Nigeria. The first of these started in Lagos.1 Soon afterwards, similar associations appeared in Abeokuta, Agege, Ibadan, Ijebu-Ode, Ondo, and Calabar. Realizing that any effective solution to the existing problems as well as the improvement of education in the country could come about only by a united effort, a number of teachers’ associations began to arrange for a federal union. Accordingly, nineteen delegates from the teachers’ unions of Abeokuta, Agege, Ibadan, Ijebu-Ode, and Lagos met at the CMS Grammar School Hall, Lagos, on 8 July 1931, on which day the NUT was born.2 Shortly afterwards the Calabar union joined. Gradually, the number of branch unions and the number of financial members increased. By 1932, there were seven branches with 209 active subscribers. By 1937, these had risen to eighteen and 724 respectively.3 As the influence of the activities of the NUT began to be felt in various corners of the country, so the Union secured more branches and members. By 1964, the NUT had a total of 60,000 members.4 The objectives of the NUT deserve attention here. First and foremost, the Union set out ‘to provide a forum for the discussion of educational matters and, secondly, to safeguard the interests of the profession’.5 The union set out its aims at the inaugural meeting: (a) To study, promote and improve conditions affecting the teaching profession in Nigeria; (b) To create a better understanding among the teachers in Nigeria; (c) To submit to the Government the opinions of teachers on matters directly or indirectly affecting the teaching profession in Nigeria; (d) To establish a Central Working body for and to unite all the unions of teachers in Nigeria, and (e) To co-operate with the Education Department and various missionary bodies on matters educational.6 The chairman of the inaugural meeting, the late I.O.RansomeKuti, who eventually became the President of the Union, urged that these aims should be borne in mind and vigorously pursued so that the future of teachers in Nigeria might be based on sound lines and that the moulding of the destinies of the rising generation might be well assured.7 The attempt to achieve these aims involved

NIGERIA UNION OF TEACHERS 127

a series of struggles with the governments, missionaries, the teachers themselves, and other teachers’ organizations. THE NUT AND THE GOVERNMENT(s) The formation of the NUT occurred in the early years of E.J. R.Hussey’s service as a Director of Education in Nigeria. From the outset, he took a keen interest in the Union and the development of education in Nigeria. Soon after the inauguration of the NUT, the Union appointed a member, J.O.Lucas, to represent the teachers on the Board of Education.8 Officers of the Union were in close touch with the Director of Education. As the Union grew both in numbers and in extent, it became necessary to have more representation on the Board of Education. Then came its first shock. A.Nyong, a delegate from Calabar, argued that since each mission had a representative, there was no reason why the teachers in the country should not have two representatives. He pointed out that for any motion to be discussed, the mover must be seconded, and that with a single representative, it was difficult for the Union’s suggestions to secure support in a board that had adopted the ‘one-man-one-vote’ procedure. He said that more representation on the Board of Education would not only help the Director and the Board itself, but would also benefit education in the country at large. The NUT resolved to ask the Director to recommend the appointment of an additional representative on the Board.9 When approached about this, Hussey told the Union that the question of additional representatives would be considered when the first representative completed his term.10 He said that the Board of Education was already large and that though the prestige of the Union might be enhanced, it was not an absolute necessity to increase the representation. Additionally, he argued that since the Union was ably represented by J.O.Lucas, there was no need to fear because decisions were not put to vote, i.e., the Board of Education did not follow Parliamentary procedure.11 Exactly what he meant by this is not clear. One would have thought that before a decision was taken on any matter, it must, first of all, have to be tabled as a motion and unless the motion was seconded, discussion on the matter would not open. Moreover, a section of the Education Ordinance clearly stated that ‘Any


question before a meeting of the Board or of a committee shall be decided by a majority of votes’.12 Indeed, soon after the succession of J.O.Lucas by E.E.Esua as the Union’s representative on the Board of Education in 1937, an incident occurred which confirmed A.Nyong’s fears. The NUT had drawn up salary scales for teachers. These were to be considered at the Board of Education meeting in January 1938. Before the meeting started, E.E.Esua had approached Augusto, the representative of Muslim interests, and secured his agreement to second his motion on the issue. To Esua’s utter surprise and disappointment, when he put the motion, Augusto was not seen. Perforce, the motion had to be dropped.13 The Director then asked the Board whether it wished to consider the NUT figures. By an overwhelming majority, it declined to do so.14 The Union did not become a trade union until trade union activities in any field of development became a desideratum for financial assistance under the Colonial Development and Welfare Act of 1940. This Act provided that financial assistance was to be given for schemes involving capital expenditure necessary for colonial development in the widest sense as well as for helping to meet recurrent expenditure in the colonies on certain services such as agriculture, education, health, and housing.15 But before any money could be paid for any scheme, the Secretary of State was to satisfy himself that the law of the colony provided reasonable facilities for the establishment and activities of trade unions, and that fair conditions of labour would be observed.16 The Governor of Nigeria had been urged by Dr Henry Carr at the Legislative Council meeting to apply for financial assistance from the CD&W Fund.17 In order that the scheme for educational improvement might benefit, the NUT took steps to reorganize and to register itself under the Trade Union Ordinance. To do this, the Union had to overcome a minor obstacle created by Dr Henry Carr, then an ex-government official. While on the Board of Education, he challenged the propriety of teachers organizing themselves as Unions and corresponding directly with the Director of Education behind the back of the school proprietors —their employers. The Director of Education said he would refer the matter to the Attorney-General and then would report back to the Board at its next sitting. According to E.E.Esua, Carr’s question was not properly recorded in the minutes of the Board. Consequently, the Director could not take action. He had to wait


until the next meeting of the Board, several months afterwards, for the re-wording of the question. In the meantime, the NUT consulted a solicitor and reorganized itself. It framed a new constitution, registered itself, and obtained a Government Certificate authorizing it to function as a separate Union on 24 December 1941.18 When the Board of Education eventually met, early in 1942, all that was done was to correct the minutes. It was too late for the question to serve its purpose. E.E.Esua referred to this as a ‘technical knockout of Henry Carr’. The Education Department Estimates for 1941–2 included an additional grant of £26,000 to enable missions to place their certificated teachers in assisted schools on the salary point they would have reached had they been receiving their annual increments according to the scales of salaries proposed by the Board of Education in 1937, and to pay arrears from 1 April 1940. Before this was done, the NUT had to surmount a government bureaucratic hurdle. According to E.E.Esua, the NUT had submitted a memorandum to the Director of Education early in 1939, and there was the usual official acknowledgment without any further action. After waiting for a long time without any word from the Department of Education, the President, the late Ransome-Kuti, took a copy of the memorandum to London where it was discussed at the Colonial Office with the Education Advisers to the Secretary of State. The Colonial Office then sent a copy of the memorandum to the Education Office, Nigeria. This stimulated action and eventually led to the drawing up and implementation of the 1942 salary scales for teachers. Realizing that the NUT could by-pass it in pursuit of its objectives, the government of Nigeria became cautious in its application of the usual colonial ‘delay tactics’. Another government attitude that disturbed the NUT was the disregard for Nigerian teachers. It is important, here, to remember that teachers in government institutions were regarded more as government servants than as teachers. The complaint arose from a British Council invitation to each of the four British Dependencies in West Africa to send two teachers to England for a refresher course in English. Instead of choosing from among the teachers, the government of Nigeria chose one student from the Yaba Higher College. Members of the NUT then pointed out that through correspondence, they found that the Gambia government had appointed two teachers to attend the course in England. The


Union decided to suggest to the government that in future, such selections should not be confined to students, as experienced teachers in English could be found to benefit by such a course, and that the government should not give the wrong impression that teachers were being provided for by the selection of a student.19 Without attempting to justify the government action, it must be observed that this was at a time when the Nigerian schools were suffering from a heavy exodus of qualified teachers as a result of salary cuts and the withholding of increments. It is doubtful whether, at that time, the missionary proprietors would have willingly endorsed losing any of their qualified teachers for a period in England. On the other hand, the choice made by the government was a loss to the educational endeavour of the country. It chose one instead of two candidates. The student selected was already at an institution where he was comparatively well provided for. His withdrawal meant a loss, by one, of the already limited number of Yaba products. Such a student was not likely to benefit as much as a classroom teacher, though some of the Yaba students had previously been teachers.20 As E.E.Esua observed, the Union’s constant complaint against the government was the government’s inadequate financing of education. For instance, while the maintenance of a government primary school consumed about £1,000 per annum, a mission school with secondary classes received annual grants of £350 and some less than £300 per annum in the 1930s.21 An example was the Denis Memorial Grammar School in Onitsha. It had, on the staff, three Europeans (excluding one who was on leave), one African with a London University degree, two Yaba and two Achimota graduates, five certificated teachers—one holding the Senior Certificate—and two technical teachers. There were 330 students all of whom were boarders. Yet, the total government grant in the late 1930s for the school was £599.22 The effect of the inadequate financing of education was that teachers received low salaries because missions, whose principal objective was proselytization, tried to spread educational facilities with inadequate funds. J.O.Lucas, a clergyman, reported to the NUT meeting, January 1933, that the Director of Education said that payment of higher salaries to teachers would mean full control by the government, and, consequently, would limit the number of schools in the country. ‘Will Missions agree? No, especially if schools will be closed down!’ The Director put in a


warning that the Union should be cautious in its efforts to encourage full control.23 Clearly, the government of the time did not see the education of the people as its responsibility. Regionalization of the country multiplied the NUT’s problems with the governments. As. F.W.Ezi, the East Regional Secretary of NUT, put it, one of the Union’s greatest problems was that of negotiating on several fronts—with the Federal as well as the Regional governments and with the voluntary agencies.24 The NUT foresaw these problems and protested against the introduction of regionalization. But the powers of the day did not take account of the Union’s deprecation of the political divisions. The East Regional government also ignored the Union’s advice against the premature introduction of the futile Universal Primary Education Act of 1958. The government did not see eye-to-eye with the Union in professional matters, particularly over the introduction of the Six-Year Primary Education and the computation of Grants-InAid and the Assumed Local Contribution. Disagreement over these issues adversely affected school managers as well as the communities supporting the schools. A much more serious problem facing the NUT was, and is, that the Regional governments do not readily co-operate with the Federal government in considering suggestions by the National Joint Negotiating Council on wages for teachers in the Federation. However, by 1964, some of the NUT problems with the government had been overcome. Government’s expenditure on education had become much higher than in the 1930s. The main remaining complaint over salaries became the regional disparities. As far as overseas courses were concerned, the various governments in Nigeria encouraged as many teachers as were suitably qualified to undertake various courses. But, the NUT’s representation on the Boards of Education could not, by itself, prevent the Union from being out-voted in controversial matters. As regards representation on the Boards of Education, the NUT had made some advances. The Union had no statutory place on the Board of Education until 1946. Before then, the Education Ordinance required for the Board of Education Colony and Southern Provinces, that, in addition to the Director and the Assistant Director of Education, there should be ‘not less than ten representatives of missions and other educational agencies working in the Colony and Southern Provinces’, and such officers of the government or other persons as the Governor may think fit. It was


under the latter provision that the Director of Education recommended the NUT for a seat. The Board of Education for the Northern Provinces had no provision for teachers. There were three representatives of the missions and ‘not less than two representatives of the Native Authority’.25 In 1946, out of twentysix members of the Central Board of Education, there were only three representatives of the NUT (including the General Secretary). On the same Board, there were seven representatives of the Roman Catholic Mission, and eleven representing the Protestant Churches.26 The 1948 Education Ordinance increased the NUT’s seats to four (including the General Secretary). In addition, the Ordinance provided for one teacher employed by the Native Authority to be appointed by the Chief Commissioner, Northern Provinces. Eight of the twenty-six seats were for the Christian missions.27 On each of the Regional and Colony Boards, the NUT had no more than one seat.28 By 1964, only the General Secretary of the NUT represented the Union on the Northern Nigeria Board of Education made up of thirty-six members.29 Two of the forty seats on the Western Nigeria Advisory Board of Education were for the NUT.30 In the Eastern Region, four out of twenty-six seats on the Board were for the teaching profession. At least two of these four were for any recognized teachers’ organization functioning in the Region.31 The NUT had only one seat on the Lagos Education Authority, comprising sixteen members.32 In 1964, many of the NUT Regional and Area Secretaries complained that the governments of Nigeria paid lip-service to education. The governments did not sincerely consider the tools they were going to use in building up the country. Thus, after independence, the government of Nigeria still placed education and the teachers’ union much in the same position as the colonial government had done. In addition, the NUT had continuing problems with the Christian missions. THE NUT AND THE MISSIONS At the inception of the Union, it was hardly imagined that it would develop into an active trade union. Some of its early activities included the education of its members through such programmes as lectures, debates, sports, and plays in which missionaries and government officials were prominently featured.33 As the Union


gradually gained strength as a trade union, the missions began to look on it with great disfavour. According to E.E.Esua, the head of the Anglican Mission Bishop Melville Jones openly deprecated the idea of teachers forming a trade union.34 Until 1942, with the implementation of the Morris Scale every mission paid its teachers according to differing criteria. Even teachers with identical qualifications in the same mission had different salaries. Teachers had to bargain for their salaries irrespective of the government scales. It is alleged that this practice bred all kinds of injustices. Teachers who were particularly servile to their Managers had special favours and African Managers placed their friends, special classmates, or relatives at higher rates than others with the same qualifications and experience. Since the Morris Scale benefited only the certificated teachers in Assisted Schools, the NUT had to press on, on behalf of other teachers and for a fair and uniform deal for all teachers. Before the 1947 Interim Award, the NUT had threatened employers and proprietors with a country-wide strike by teachers. Then the United Missionaries Society, which operated in and around Jebba, served its teachers with notices stating that in view of the threatened strike, those teachers who were NUT members should either resign their membership of the NUT or lose their employment. E.E.Esua took up the matter with the head of that mission until he gained the assurance that the teachers in the employ of that mission had been told that they were free to continue their membership without the risk of losing their jobs. The Sudan Interior Mission was also known to be decidedly opposed not only to the NUT, but also to the Northern Teachers Association. The SIM’s disagreement with the NUT began in 1944 when the NUT learned that the mission was preventing its teachers from joining the Union. For a number of years, the two parties exchanged letters which, however, failed to produce any amicable settlement. Convinced that the mission’s anti-union policy contravened Conventions 87 and 98 of the International Labour Organization,35 the NUT appealed to the government to take action. At the Legislative Council meeting, 16 September 1950, A. Ikoku related the NUT’s experience with the Sudan Interior Mission. The mission’s conditions of service for teachers denied them the right to join the NUT. When the Union wrote to the mission to ascertain whether the mission actually barred the


teachers from joining the Union, the mission representative replied to disclaim the responsibility of the mission as employers of the teachers. The reply gave the understanding that the teachers were employed by the local church.36 Further, it emphasized that for financial reasons, the mission would rather have the teachers out of trade unions, and maintained that the mission’s teachers were Christian workers first, and teachers second.37 The matter dragged on until 1948 when the NUT got hold of a copy of the mission’s ‘Teachers’ Contracts’ which contained a clause barring teachers from membership of the Union. The NUT reported that position to Ralph Morley, MP, in England, and further disclosed to him that the local church, in a letter dated 12 March 1948, not only condemned the Service Agreement of the mission as illegal but declared that it was drawn up by the missionaries themselves. The matter was taken up by the Secretary of State and the Chief Secretary to the Nigerian government.38 In order not to forfeit the Grants-In-Aid received by their schools, the mission, according to the Chief Secretary’s letter to the NUT, dated 20 July 1948, had decided to omit the clause from all further contracts. But on 9 December 1948, the Union had to point out to the Chief Secretary that, although the SIM had decided to delete the anti-union clause in the Service Agreement for teachers, the anti-union policy still remained. Any teacher in their employ being discovered to be a member of the NUT would be dismissed. Pointing out that here and there teachers could join the NUT, and that it had not been stated as a right, Ikoku then requested the government to make a categorical statement of the rights of teachers and every worker in the country to form associations and to bargain collectively. He also asked the House to call upon the government of Nigeria to take appropriate steps to secure early ratification of Conventions 87 and 98 of the International Labour Organization.39 The reply from the Commissioner of Labour, A.H.Couzens, was not encouraging. He observed that the resolution required the government of Nigeria to do something which it had no power to do. The ILO was a voluntary association of sovereign states. Nigeria could, therefore, not become a member, being represented by the United Kingdom.40 The British government had, however, ratified Convention 87 of 1948, but had not then made any declaration regarding its application to the British Dependencies. Although a draft


declaration was then in preparation, it could not be formally issued until after consultation with the British. Nevertheless, the Nigerian government had informed the Secretary of State that they saw no difficulty in the application of this Convention in Nigeria, although it needed some slight amendments to the Trade Union Ordinance which were being worked out. As regards Convention 98, the British government had not then taken any formal steps to ratify it, although the Nigerian government had notified the Secretary of State for the Colonies that the Convention appeared to be suitable for application in Nigeria without modification.41 In spite of all the Conventions, a number of missions subtly discouraged their teachers from becoming members of the NUT or other teachers’ unions. After A.Ikoku’s report, another member of the Legislative Council, A.T.Balewa, reported that the Northern Teachers Association, though recently formed, was suffering from similar difficulties.42 When the writer toured different parts of Nigeria in 1964, many teachers still complained that some missions forbade them to join the teachers’ union. It is probable that the missions feared that the more their teachers were ‘educated’ through associations and combining with other teachers, the more they would question some of their denominational tenets and practices. Indeed, teachers employed by some missions were often not allowed to associate with teachers in other denominations lest they spoil their religious sanctity which was (and is) carefully guarded by missionaries. As early as 1935, Ransome-Kuti, the late President of the NUT, had warned of the danger of denominational differences. He said: One danger of our existence and progress is however real. News has reached me that in certain districts certain members are falling into the serious snare of sectarianism and denominationalism. They are thinking of the NUT in terms of Anglicanism, Methodism, etc. Let them know now and for ever that such an attitude is a sure beginning of sorrows for the welfare of the teaching profession in Nigeria. It is impossible to organise on denominational basis without coming to grief and, in fact, our constitution does not admit of such a suicidal course. In our Union we desire to know nothing but teachers—teachers of good character and enthusiasm for their work and the course of education in Nigeria.43


On the other hand, it is not easy to determine how much the teachers themselves used the religious or sectarian differences as a pretext for not joining their professional union. Addressing the Annual Conference of the NUT at Hope Waddell, Calabar in 1948, Father J.Kearne, Principal of St Patrick’s College, said that the attitude of the Catholic church towards unions of the character of the NUT had often been misconstrued. The Catholic church insisted that employees had rights as well as duties and the formation of societies or unions to promote the welfare of the individual members was one of their rights. To enter into a lawful society of that kind was a natural right of men, and no-one could interfere with that right according to him.44 It is possible to assert that in some ways teachers created some of the problems facing their professional unions. PROBLEMS WITH TEACHERS Reports from officials of the NUT, and indeed, of other teachers’ associations, reveal that the Union’s problems with teachers stemmed from a number of causes. While the upbringing of many teachers is such that they expect others to think for themselves and to solve their own problems, the attitude of some proprietors or managers was so paternalistic that some teachers themselves failed to think and act in an independent manner. Since there is no national security for teachers they have to be obsequious towards their employers in order to remain in their jobs. Nor is this unusual in a country where obedience and servility are the price for dependence and support. An example is the case of a headmaster and his teachers who were not allowed to give their answers to questionnaires by their Rev Manager.45 But as early as 1940, the President of the NUT had observed that teachers were not sufficiently articulate or attuned to their own interests.46 In 1948, Father J.Kearne pointed out that in view of the very grave responsibility of teachers, they should not let others think for them, nor should they echo their ‘Masters’ voice’.47 Many teachers who did not support the Union argued that their managers did not approve of such associations. As F.W.Ezi pointed out, Nigerian teachers had not realized that they become stronger by uniting. Many teachers believe in immediate rewards and also want to reap without sowing. A number of teachers supported the Union when there was a rumour of a revision of salaries. Immediately


after the new salaries had been secured, their enthusiasm died. Others, confident that they must enjoy the fruits of any struggles and efforts of other people, saw no reason why they should support the Union financially. M.O.Adeniran, Regional Secretary of the NUT, Western Nigeria, said that ‘teachers do not want to pay their dues. They say they do not know what the NUT is doing for them’.48 A serious problem is that the NUT is hardly thought of as an organ for the dissemination of professional ideas as well as a necessary instrument for the development of professional efficiency and status. Instead, teachers think of it as an organ serving only for their financial betterment. This misconception affects the membership because only those who seem to be worse off, or those who feel they are somehow being cheated become members. Hence, according to M.O.Adeniran, the NUT is more or less regarded as the concern of primary school teachers. The majority of the teachers in the secondary schools, teacher training and Technical colleges as well as University lec turers are not members of the NUT. Likewise, teachers in Government Schools are not members.49 The idea that the NUT is for the less fortunate teachers probably explains why the Union, in membership, appears to be exclusively for Nigerians. A.O.Ibikunle, the North Regional Secretary of the NUT observed that some expatriate teachers are members of the Union in other parts of the country, but not in the North. Those in the North have a lot of inducement allowances; there is hardly anything for them to gain from the NUT.50 But an expatriate Principal of a Training College, Kaduna, gave different reasons why they are not members of the Union. It is, quite frankly, too expensive because of the basis of 2d in the pound… The Leadership is not of the standard to command the respect of people of our level; the local leadership is not of high enough standard.51 These statements call for two observations. First, the subscription was reduced from 2d to 1d in the pound in 1961 i.e., over two years before the interview. This cannot be the main reason. Second, owing to limited resources, the NUT was unable to appoint even a single full-time paid official in its secretariat in the Northern Region. In 1962, Malam S.K.Allah-Magani acted as the Field


Organizer.52 By 1964, A.O.Ibikunle, a classroom teacher, was the Regional Secretary of the Union in the North. But for this he received no salary. Without a sufficient number of teachers financially supporting the Union, it was impossible for the NUT to justify engaging graduate Field Organizers. There is, however, no evidence to prove that a graduate is necessarily a better union organizer than a non-graduate teacher. For two main reasons, therefore, expatriate teachers are not interested in the Nigerian teachers’ unions. Some of them are paying members of the teachers’ organizations of their own countries. Having nothing in particular to gain by becoming members of the NUT, they consider that it is uneconomical to duplicate membership dues. But the Nigeria Union of Teachers is a member of the World Confederation of Organizations of the Teaching Profession. Where expatriate teachers are interested, it is possible to come to an agreement whereby there could be no duplication of dues and yet no loss of amenities. But expatriate teachers in the ex-colonial territories are not interested because they are more or less well-provided for. Among them, there is also the feeling of superiority over the majority of teachers in these countries. It is beneath their dignity to become members of such unions. A Principal of a large grammar school at Ibadan said that his staff had nothing to do with any teachers’ union in Nigeria. ‘My teachers are mostly expatriates. The non-expatriate teachers are usually casuals’.53 However, the apathy of teachers in Nigeria may be due to some of the often-heard complaints which all of the headmasters interviewed by the writer mentioned, and which were briefly put together by the headmaster of St Michael’s Primary School, Omokpo: We feel the Union has not been working towards our interest. It does not function as a well constituted organisation. The teachers are reluctant to pay their dues because they don’t get their amenities. The Union is not dynamic and the popular opinion is that the Government has bought over the General Secretary.54 Others complain that some of the proprietors of schools (and consequently employers of teachers) are not only members but are in the Executive body of the NUT. For example, A.Ikoku, the


President of the NUT (successor of Ransome-Kuti) was proprietor of Aggrey Memorial College, Arochuku. A lady Principal of a Girls’ Secondary School said that as a pupil teacher, she was a member of the NUT. She did not want to rejoin because of the treatment she received when she was a junior teacher. She was then forced to pay her dues out of a monthly salary of 17s. 6d. But when it came to entertainment and enjoyment of amenities, she was cheated. Concluding, she asked: ‘Can you imagine that the NUT General Secretary has accepted a government appointment? How can he represent teachers well?’55 The complaint of cheating the junior teachers appears to be confirmed by the Principal of St Luke’s Teacher Training College, when he said that although most of his staff were members of the NUT, he himself left the Union in 1944 because he felt that the junior teachers were not favoured by the NUT. Again, he had complaints against the General Secretary of the NUT: ‘Teachers are not happy with Mr Esua. All correspondences stop in his hands and others do not know about them. When there is any invitation for any conference, he nominates himself to attend such meetings, and people hear and know of the conference when he has come back’.56 No specific example of a definite case of ‘cheating’ was produced by any of those who gave ‘cheating’ as one of their complaints against the NUT. What was commonly pointed out was that the NUT seemed to care more for the certificated than for the uncertificated teachers. From the Grade II Teachers’ Case submitted to the General President of the NUT by the Grade II Teachers’ Association, it appears that the NUT’s continued stress on examination successes at the expense of efficiency is distasteful to many a teacher. They wrote: ‘Some of us have grown older, and are saddled with greater hardship than before. We feel the NUT is not morally justified to request us now, at advanced age, to undergo any rigid examination’.57 The Special Register (C/S) teachers have similar grievances, for the number of examination attempts is taken into account when considering them for the award of the Honorary Certificate. It is amongst these that one finds the grossest injustice of the teaching profession in Nigeria. There are men who gave well over forty years of their lives to teaching and received neither gratuity nor pension, except the mention that they served their missions well.


Grade II teachers also mentioned that their salaries compared unfavourably with those of the Grade I teachers. But they also pointed out that the salary scales of the lower category—the Grade III teachers—were better than theirs.58 It has, however, been observed, that although salary scales of teachers are comparatively poor, ‘it is generally agreed that the lowest grade teachers are better off than people in other walks of life having the same educational qualifications’.59 The extent to which the NUT is responsible for this is not easy to ascertain. But teachers blame the imbalance and irregularity in the salary structure of the NUT particularly as they complained that a number of the NUT officials are managers and proprietors who genuinely cannot cater for the interest of teachers. An expatriate Principal of a Teacher Training College, half of whose staff support the NUT, said that the rest were not keen to do likewise because of some dissatisfaction with the Union. He further observed that most of the criticism was against the General Secretary of the NUT, E.E.Esua. Continuing, the Principal said that frankly, the General Secretary of the NUT was partly responsible for the teachers’ lukewarm attitude towards the Union. According to him, the NUT was virtually non-existent. But he did not delegate authority. Through his efficiency, he created a machinery which gradually became a bit too massive for him to control. Concluding, he said that most of the teachers were reluctant to pay anything; thus E.E. Esua, to them, became a convenient scapegoat.60 A number of branch unions had also expressed their dissatisfaction with the General Secretary. The Sapele Branch, particularly, in September 1963, demanded the immediate retirement of the General Secretary of the NUT. In reply to their letter, the North Regional Secretary reminded them that E.E. Esua had played some good parts in the moulding of the Union some time in his life. But he could not, lately, be expected to cope with the demands of the expanding Union as he naturally was incapable of displaying his former energies.61 The situation thus produces a vicious circle. Teachers are unwilling to support the Union financially. Consequently, the Union cannot afford to engage enough capable secretaries and organizers. The upshot is that the Union fails to satisfy or impress the teachers with its activities. In turn, the dissatisfaction keeps many teachers


away from the Union. But in spite of its difficulties, the NUT has made notable contributions to the cause of education in Nigeria. ACHIEVEMENTS OF THE NUT For a number of notable achievements, the NUT deserves some praise. One of the first achievements of the Union was the recognition of passes higher than Class II Middle. Owing to financial difficulties, a number of boys who entered Middle or Secondary Schools could not continue to complete such courses. Usually, such boys left school to look for employment. It was reported that some Principals and some Schools refused to sign the certificates issued to such boys who, therefore, could not easily find employment. One example occurred in September 1930, at the Ijebo-Ode Grammar School, where the Principal refused to sign a Form I Certificate issued to a boy. Another case at the Ibadan College where a paper issued by the Principal to a boy leaving the school merely stated that the boy had been in Form IV. There was no signature either of the Principal or of any Superintendent of Education. The former case was reported to the Education Department in 1930. Until January 1932, no action was taken by the Department. The second instance made the NUT suspect that the government was not willing to encourage education beyond Standard VI. Thus the President said: Europeans, not excluding Rev Squire (of Ibadan College), passed examinations to get qualifications before they were considered for any post. We might not necessarily agree with the Government in all things, but that should not debar us from demanding our dues. We should not be parties to anything that represses education.62 It is worth explaining how the issue of unendorsed certificates was regarded as an attempt to repress education. In Nigeria, education was successful only if it was rewarded with a certificate and eventually some employment. But employers would not recognize a certificate without the signature of the officer issuing it. Hence such certificates were worthless. If boys who had spent some years in secondary schools and who passed the necessary examinations


could not obtain any employment on the strength of such qualifications, then other boys would be un-willing to go beyond Standard Six. As J.O.Lucas points out, such practices were not known in Lagos although such things might occur in the interior of the country. It was not, however, a government policy. In fact, the Education Ordinance required that a pupil leaving school must be given a certificate signed by the head teacher, supervisor, or superintendent. Such a certificate must indicate the highest class which the pupil had passed and the dates of the period or periods during which he had attended school.63 The government of Nigeria, however, saw to it that certificates issued to pupils bore the signature of the heads of institutions. The NUT played a significant part in ending the arbitrary age limits in schools. In Calabar, for instance, the Superintendent of Education issued a Circular to all Government and Assistant Schools in the Province restricting the maximum age limits in the various grades of schools or departments of a school to 11 years in the infants, 16 years in the Elementary, and 19 years in the Middle Schools. Moreover, he enjoined that no pupils should be allowed to attempt the Middle II (Standard Six) examination more than twice. The more serious aspect of this was that the rigorous enforcement of these rules was demanded forthwith. Since the NUT felt that the immediate enforcement of the rules would cause hardship and aggravate the unemployment situation, the Union made representations to the Superintendent to temper these rules.64 The President of the NUT, I.O.Ransome-Kuti, was particularly against the enforcement of any age-limit regulations in Nigeria, where the majority of pupils had very late starts in western-type education. All that was essential, according to him, was enthusiasm or willingness to learn on the part of the pupils, irrespective of age. Largely as a result of his pressure, the enforcement of the age-limit was relaxed, or, perhaps, ignored for the time being. It should be pointed out that the 1926 Education Code had no fixed age-limits for the various types of schools. Depending upon local conditions, Provincial Superintendents of Education or Managers and Headmasters used their discretion. Usually, in the rural areas, there was hardly any emphasis on age-limits. But, with the increasing school population, the lack of employment opportunities during the Depression years, the need to encourage


secondary education, and the continued poor Standard Six results (largely attributed to the fact that most of the Standard Six pupils were virtually adults), it became necessary to introduce age-limits in schools. It was not until 1942 that the Education Ordinance merely introduced a definition for ‘School Age’ as ‘not exceeding 18 years in a school not proceeding beyond Standard VI, Middle II or Higher Elementary II, and not exceeding 21 years in a secondary school’.65 But the Ordinance was not proclaimed; therefore, no strict age-limits could be enforced. The 1948 Education Ordinance definitely introduced age-limits for the various types of schools.66 It was also largely due to the Union’s effort that the practice whereby pupils above the age of sixteen (without the Resident’s exemption) paid tax came to an end. The Calabar Branch reported the practice in Calabar Province to the Central Union of the NUT, which took up the matter with the appropriate authorities.67 During the 1936 Annual meeting, it was reported that the taxation of school boys in Calabar had been waived, although the practice was prevalent in Asaba.68 The practice in Asaba was not readily abolished. While dealing with this, a report from Port Harcourt reached the Central Union that school boys beyond the age of 16 would be taxed, in 1940. The President then suggested the possibilities of making representations on the welfare of Nigeria through the West African Students’ Union (WASU) in England.69 At that juncture, it was revealed that at an interview with the Governor, His Excellency said that no school boy in Nigeria would be taxed, and that any isolated case should be brought to the notice of the government. The teaching profession in Nigeria really owes much to the achievements of the NUT. The first of these was the ending of the practice which required teachers to requalify with the introduction of a new code.70 Another of the NUT’s achievements was the attempt to improve the professional ability of Nigerian teachers. From the early years of its existence, the Union appealed to the Director of Education to advise the Superintendents of Education in charge of Provinces to arrange frequent demonstration lessons as well as special courses so as to assist teachers to acquire better methods of teaching.71 With the continued emphasis on certification, the NUT organized a number of vocational courses to enable teachers to pass their certificate examinations.


An outstanding achievement of the NUT was the series of attempts to unify the conditions of service of all teachers in the country. The NA teachers had no regular increments and had no definite scale of salaries. In 1938 the NUT considered that the NA teachers should, for the sake of fairness, be raised and placed on the scale of salaries for the Mission Assisted School teachers.72 Until the Morris Scale of 1942, women teachers in Assisted Schools were earning two-thirds of the salary paid to their male counterparts with similar or equal educational qualifications.73 As a result of the NUT’s insistence, the Director of Education recommended in the 1942 Ten Year Educational Plan submitted to the Secretary of State that women teachers should be on the same scale with men. The parity for men and women teachers was introduced in 1943. Likewise, teachers with similar qualifications earned different salaries depending upon whether they were teaching either in assisted or unassisted schools. Owing to the NUT’s pressure, the disparity was abolished. The creation of the Joint Negotiation Committee for the regulation of teachers’ salaries and conditions of service was due to the efforts of the NUT. With the regionalization of the country, the Hamilton-Whyte Negotiating Committee74 became defunct. But the NUT’s persistence led to the recommendation to the governments of the Federation that legislative action be taken to establish the National Joint Negotiating Council for Teachers.75 The NUT’s efforts in protecting the interest of unqualified teachers are noteworthy. The Union intervened on several occasions when unqualified teachers with many years of teaching experience were laid off. In consequence, such teachers were reinstated. The Ashby Commission had pointed out that the preponderance of unqualified teachers in Nigerian schools was a great setback. Hence they recommended that vocation courses should be organized for unqualified teachers.76 As a measure of minimizing the percentage of unqualified teachers in schools, the Ministries of Education discouraged the engagement of primary school leavers as teachers. Indeed, proprietors began to replace uncertified teachers with newly-trained teachers. In order to provide opportunities for long-experienced unqualified teachers to help themselves, the NUT, at its Annual Meeting in Lagos in January 1962, suggested the idea of running a series of vocation schools.77 The first of such courses was organized at the University of


Nigeria, Nsukka, from August to September 1962. In subsequent years, similar courses began to be run at Ibadan, Kaduna, and Benin. The Union was not only interested in the unqualified teachers. In the early nineteen fifties, the Union fought for the promotion of specially capable non-graduate teachers in mission institutions. Those who were promoted began to enjoy what came to be known as the ‘Extended Scale’ salaries. It is true that the initiative for this scheme came from the Central Board of Education. There, some representatives of Christian missions clearly stated that their missionaries would not be allowed to draw the Extended Scale salaries. This statement contained a danger that none but E.E.Esua was able to see. He saw that certain missionary Principals and Vice-Principals who did not actually receive the Extended Scale would block the posts, thus preventing eligible African teachers from enjoying it. But the Education Department made it clear that whether or not the missionaries enjoyed it, they would, in fact, be regarded as holding the posts provided that they possessed the requisite qualifications.78 Indeed, many qualified African teachers serving the voluntary agencies did enjoy this. In 1962, the Union also suceeeded in getting the Federal government to introduce, in the Federal Territory, the Intermediate Grade as a form of promotion for non-graduate teachers.79 The National Negotiating Council for Teachers, created on 23 October 1964, recommended the extension of this system of promotion to the other governments in Nigeria.80 During the period considered in this chapter, the NUT unrelentingly pursued its principal aims. Although the status of the teaching profession in Nigeria is unenviable, the position of the teachers in Nigeria without the NUT can hardly be imagined. Clearly, the NUT could have been much more successful had there been fewer obstacles in its way. By far the most potent problem confronting the NUT stems from the very objective the NUT set itself, namely, the professional unity of all teachers in Nigeria. The attempt to unite the teachers in Nigeria is not consonant with, and indeed, has constantly been thwarted by, the political structure and practice in Nigeria. The NUT came into being when the thought of one country was in the mind of most people. The rise of the Northern Teachers Association, the Union of Graduate Teachers in Western Nigeria, the short-lived Eastern Teachers Association, and the Eastern Nigeria Teachers Organization, clearly illustrates a


serious threat to the NUT. It is the fact that the pattern of teachers associations in Nigeria seems to respond more to the political pulse in the territory than to any professional expediency. It is possible that through increased educational effort, the NUT will be able to bring about a review of such social and political problems as limit the functions of a worthy profession to mere agitation for the economic betterment of its few privileged members. The NUT, like every other union, is one group of people engaged in a common task. Its primary desires are to improve the conditions of service for its members and to secure and maintain worthwhile status for the profession. As it is of and for human beings, its shortcomings can be made good only by human beings themselves. It is not something apart from the teachers; surely, without teachers in Nigeria, there could be no Nigeria Union of Teachers. Therefore, teachers in Nigeria need constantly to bear in mind that it is for them to create for themselves the type of Union that will serve both their interests and those of the country at large. One can effectively criticise and improve an organization by being an active member of it. If complaints of outsiders are not a reflection of sheer prejudice, they are, at least, not very helpful. By becoming effective members, they can bring about such desirable changes that will rejuvenate and modernize the NUT in mind and attitude, rather than in physical appearance and the paraphernalia of office. NOTES 1. The Annual Report of the Education Department for the Year 1930, Lagos, reported that a Union of teachers was formed at Lagos during the year. Although E.E. Esua referred to the Lagos union as the first of such associations, the Ijebu-Ode Union appears to have been in existence before it. A record in connection with an Ijebu-Remo dispute has it that ‘Ijebu-Ode had its union some ten years ago, and the Remo Union joined in 1931’. (See Minutes of the NUT, 10 January 1931). 2. Minutes of the NUT, 8 July 1931, p.1. The Representatives were W.R. B.Kuye, J.M.M.Osinmosa, J.F.Odunjo, M.A.Acho, all from Abeokuta; Rev E.M.Olulode, E.A.Salako, D.F.Kolajo from Agege; J.L.Ogunsola, J.O.Ajibola, E.N.E.Mkune, F.Mensa Lawson, from Ibadan; Rev I.O.Ransome-Kuti, M.T.Taiwo, M.O.Obisanya, J.S.


3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26.

27.

Odujirin from Ijebo-Ode; T.J.O.Sanyade, K.Baddey, S.B.Beecroft, and E.E.Esua from Lagos. Annual Report of the Education Department for the year 1937, p. 56. West African Pilot, 29 August 1964. Annual Report of the Education Department for the Year 1931, p. 21. Minutes of the NUT, 8 July 1931, p.3. Ibid. Annual Report of the Education Department for the year 1931, p. 21. Minutes of the NUT, 10 January 1933, p.12. Members of the Board of Education were appointed for a period not exceeding three years although they were eligible for reappointment there-after. See 1926 Education Code. Minutes of the NUT, 10 January 1933, p.15. Education (Colony and Southern Provinces) Ordinance, No.15 of 1926, Regulation 4, Section 9. E.E.Esua, interview, Yaba, 4 September 1964. National Archives, Ibadan: CSO/26/2, 17032, vol. 3, Minutes of the Board of Education, February 1938, p.399. Statement of Policy on Colonial Development and Welfare, Cmd. 6175, London, 1940, p.6. Colonial Development and Welfare Act, 1940, 17 July 1940, Chp. 40, Section 1 (2) a, p.2. Nigeria Legislative Council Debates, 7 March 1940, p.196. Nigeria Department of Labour Quarterly Review, 2, 7 (September 1944), p.7. Minutes of the NUT, 7 January 1937. The writer has been unable to identify the particular student who was chosen, in order to verify whether he had been a teacher or not. Annual Report of the Education Department for the Year 1938, Lagos, p.8. CSO/26/2, Letter: I.G. Morris, to the Chief Secretary, Lagos, DE 132/10/1046, of 22 March 1939, Minutes of the Board of Education, p. 411. Minutes of the NUT, 10 January 1933, p.3. F.W.Ezi, interview, Aba, 15 September 1964. Education Ordinance, No.9 of 1942, Section 4 (1). Government Notice, No.466, Nigeria Gazette, 23, 34 (3 April 1947), p. 212. These appointments took effect from 29 September 1946 to (and including) 31 December 1947. Education Ordinance, No.39 of 1948, Section 5 (1).


28. Ibid., Section II (1), (2) and (3). The West had 22 seats, the East had 20, while the North had 17 seats on the Regional Boards of Education. There were 17 members on the Colony Board. 29. Hedley H.Marshall and F.A.O.Schwartz, The Laws of Northern Nigeria in Force the 1st Day of October, 1963, vol. 1, London, 1965, p. 662. 30. Western Nigeria Education Law, Cap. 34, Section 5(1). 31. Eastern Region Education Law, No.28 of 1956, Section 10 (1). 32. Education (Lagos) Ordinance, 1957, No.26 of 1956, Schedule (Sections 8 and 61). 33. Annual Report of the Education Department for the Year 1935, Lagos, p.36. 34. Minutes of the NUT, 7 January 1948, p.12. 35. Convention 87 concerning freedom of association and protection of the right to organize was adopted at the 31st Session of the International Labour Conference, 17 June 1948, San Francisco, but did not come into force until January 1 1949. Article 2 provided that ‘workers and employers, without distinction whatsoever, shall have the right to establish and, subject only to the rules of the organisation concerned, to join organisations of their own choosing without previous authorisation’. ILO: International Labour Conference—Conventions and Recommendations, 1919–1949, Geneva, 1949, pp.756–66. 36. Convention 98 concerning the application of the principles of the right to organize and to bargain collectively was adopted on 1 July 1949, by the 32nd ILO Conference, Geneva, 8 June 1949. Article 1 of the Convention provides that: (a) Workers shall enjoy adequate protection against acts of anti-union discrimination in respect of their employment; (b) such protection shall apply more particularly in respect of acts calculated to (i) make the employment of a worker subject to conditions that he shall not join a union or shall relinquish trade union membership; (ii) cause the dismissal of or otherwise prejudice a worker by reason of union membership or because of participation in union activities outside working hours or, with the consent of the employer, within working hours. Ibid., pp.907–8. 37. In the memorandum submitted to Sir Sydney Phillipson during the enquiry on the Grants-in-Aid System, Rev H.G. Farrant, the Field Secretary of the Sudan United Mission, had also written to say that the wages paid to the teacher were agreed on between the Church and the teacher—Africans and African. This, again, gives the impression that the teachers were direct employees of the local church community. Sir Sydney Phillipson, Grants-in-Aid of Education in Nigeria, Lagos, 1948, p.132.


38. Nigeria Legislative Council Debates, Lagos, 16 Sept. 1950., pp.200– 1. 39. Ibid., p.199. 40. Ibid., p.204. 41. It is worth mentioning that the members of the International Labour Organization undertake that the Conventions which they have ratified in accordance with the provisions of the Constitution shall be applied to the non-metropolitan territories for whose international relations they are responsible, including any trust territories for which they are the administering authority. But, where the subject matter of the Convention is within the self governing powers of the territory, it has to bring the Convention to the notice of the enactment of legislation or other action. As soon as the Convention is accepted by the Government of the territory, the member communicates to the Director-General of the International Labour Office. Article 35 of the Constitution of the International Labour Organization and Standing Orders of the International Conference, Geneva, 1955, pp.18–19. 42. Nigeria Legislative Council Debates, Lagos, 16 September 1950, p. 204. 43. Minutes of the NUT, 9 January 1935. 44. Minutes of the NUT, 7 January 1948, p.7. 45. The incident occurred on 21 August 1964, at the Catholic Mission, Oyo. 46. Minutes of the NUT, 5 January 1940. 47. Minutes of the NUT, 7 January 1948. 48. M.O.Adeniran, interview. Ibadan, 27 August 1964. 49. Before the NUT became a registered trade union, there appeared to be nothing barring Government School teachers from becoming members. Some Government teachers were members: Mr Nkume, Mr lyalla, and Mr Cameron. It was, however, reported that other Government School teachers complained that the NUT was not seeking their interest. When, as a result of the Economic Depression, a number of Government Primary Schools were handed over to voluntary agencies, it was also reported that the conditions of Government School teachers, particularly in Sapele, called for sympathy. The President of the NUT felt that the Government School teachers had nobody but themselves to blame for their conditions and said that the Union could not help them unless they became members of the Union which set out for professional unity and the general welfare of all teachers. See Minutes of the NUT, 9 January 1935. 50. A.O.Ibikunle, St.Peters College, interview, Kaduna, 8 August 1964. 51. A.O.Ibikunle, interview, Kaduna, 5 August 1964.


52. The Nigeria Union of Teachers Bulletin, 5 September 1962, p.1. 53. The Principal, Loyola Grammar School, Ibadan, interview, 25 July 1964. All but three of the twenty-five teachers in that school were expatriates. The three exceptions took up teaching there as part of their vacation job, and were to go to Ibadan University in October 1964. 54. Interview, Omokpo, Ilorin, 31 July 1964. 55. Anna Hinderer, Modern Secondary School, interview, Ibadan, 23 July 1964. 57. NUT, 978/153, letter, O.U.Ayong (and others) to the General President NUT, Calabar, 23 August 1963. 58. NUT, 978/152, The Plight of Teachers attached to Letter 978/153, 28 August 1963. The teachers pointed out that whereas the maximum salaries for Grade III, II, and I in 1954 were £234, £408, and £583 respectively, the 1959 new salary scales placed the Grade II teachers at a disadvantage. For instance: Grade III teachers maximum rose to £275 and that of the Grade 1 teachers rose to £601, the Grade II teachers maximum remained unchanged at £408, p.a. 59. WCOTP, Handbook for Raising Teacher Status in Africa, Including Report of the Conference on the Status of the Teaching Profession in Africa, Niamey, September. 1963, Washington, June, 1964, p.63. 60. The Principal, St Andrew’s College, interview, Oyo, 21 August 1964. 61. Letter: A.O.Ibikunle, to the Secretary, Sapele Branch, Kaduna, 18 October 1963 62. Minutes of the NUT, 17 January 1932, pp.7–8. 63. Regulations under Section 17 of the Education (Colony and Southern Provinces) Ordinance, No.15 of 1926, Regulation 2 (2). 64. Minutes of the NUT, 9 January 1935. 65. Education Ordinance, 1942, No.9 of 1942, Section 2, p.A40. 66. No.39 of 1948, Schedule ‘A’ gave a number of definitions. Elementary Schools in the Northern Provinces were for the 5 to 14 age range; Infant Schools or Classes for pupils under eight; Junior Primary Schools for children who had attained the age of five years but had not attained the age of fourteen; Middle Schools in the Northern Provinces for pupils between the ages of twelve and eighteen. A Secondary School meant a school providing prescribed instruction for pupils above eleven years of age. Subsequent Ordinances contained age limits. But these are more or less nominal in many areas, since there was no general system of birth registration. 67. Minutes of the NUT, 9 January 1935. 68. Minutes of the NUT, 8 January 1936.


69. The WASU was formed in 1925. Between 1925 and 1945, it was the principal social and political centre for Nigerian students in the United Kingdom. See J.S.Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism, Los Angeles, 1958, p.20. 70. Minutes of the NUT, January, 1940. 71. Minutes of the NUT, 10 January 1933, p.17. 72. Minutes of the NUT, 8 January 1938. 73. CSO/26/2, 17032, vol. 2, Minutes of the Board of Education, Lagos, December 1928, p.234. 74. Professor W.Hamilton-Whyte was the chairman of the Joint Negotiating Committee for the Regulation of Teachers’ Salaries and Conditions of Service that produced the first negotiated salary scales for teachers in Nigeria in 1952. This Committee first attempted to put into practice the idea that the status of the teaching profession in Nigeria should not be inferior in relation to Civil Service. The grade of teachers used, as the standard or the basic grade aimed at, was the holder of the Teachers’ Grade II (Higher Elementary) Certificate who had successfully completed a two-year course of training after the Cambridge School Certificate. This grade was given the name Pivotal Teacher, that is the one to whose salary all other grades were to be related. salary all other grades were to be related. 75. Report of the National Joint Negotiation Council for Teachers, 1964–1965, Lagos, 1965, p.5. 76. Investment in Education—the Report of the Commission on PostSchool Certificate and Higher Education in Nigeria, Lagos, 1965, p. 5. 77. A Description and Evaluation of the Nigeria Union of Teachers Vocation School for Uncertificated Teachers Held at the University of Nigeria Under the Auspices of Harden College of Education, Nsukka: August 6 to September 15, 1962. 78. Minutes of the NUT, 7 January 1951, p.15. 79. The Nigeria Union of Teachers Bulletin, Lagos, 5 (Sept.1962). 80. Report of the National Joint Negotiating Council for Teachers, 1964–1965, p.20.

152

8 The Role of Ethnic Unions in the Development of Southern Nigeria: 1916–66 Austin M.Ahanotu

Ethnic improvement unions were one of several means through which the people of Southern Nigeria adjusted to the modern world.1 The urban areas offered new opportunities for social, economic, and educational development. The introduction and expansion of colonial administrative offices attracted the newlyeducated to the urban areas. Modern industry, transportation, and education offered a market for skilled Southern Nigerians. The urban areas were complex environments. Their heterogeneous population, social dynamics, and growth patterns created tensions and changes that required radical adjustment. Early ethnic improvement unions were the result of certain social and economic conditions. The competitive nature of urban economics and politics had the effect of accelerating ethnic consciousness among the Africans. Fear of remaining illiterate and uneducated while others became enlightened, of being submerged into a deprived social structure, of remaining homeless while others found shelter haunted the newly-arrived in sprawling towns. The presence of ‘foreign’ traders, labourers, constables, and government wage-earners intensified competition and rivalry in the urban areas. Indigenous inhabitants ‘began to feel a sense of competition from the “foreigners”; on the other hand, [the newlyarrived] began to collaborate to protect their “minority groups” from inhospitality in their new homes’.2 Urban problems of housing, moral guidance, social control, legal assistance, and economic aid greatly concerned the newly-arrived. An observer of ethnic unions in Southern Nigeria stated: The earlier set [of the unions] were founded as a result of great handicaps and disabilities placed in the way of those newly-arrived and in order to produce a united front for


concerted action in their demand for social equality and economic security, they assembled themselves as people, in the house of the organizer, to devise plans to meet the situation.3 Between 1916 and 1966, ethnic unions were organized in most of the urban areas in Southern Nigeria. Some of these unions were the Owerri Improvement Union in Port Harcourt, organized 23 April 1916; the Egba Society, 1918; the Onitsha Improvement Union, Lagos Branch, 1920; The Ibibio Welfare Union (Ibibio State Union in Ikot Ekpene), 1928; the Urhobo Brotherly Society (Urhurbo Progress Union) in Warri, 1931; the Egbado Union in Lagos, 1935; the Ibo State Union, (Ibo Federal Union; later the Ibo State Union) in Lagos, 1936; the Uratta Improvement Union, 1941; the Egbe Omo Oduduwa (society of the descendants of Oduduwa), 1944; the Otu Edo (the Benin Community), 1951; the Edo National Union. Ethnic unions were characterized by a sense of mission. In this study, we shall examine what the mission was and how it was accomplished. Prominent traders and educated men helped maintain this sense of mission. Most unions were the brain child of professional men such as lawyers, doctors, teachers, businessmen, and civil servants. To take a few examples, Owerri traders and educated men were in Port Harcourt during the opening of that town for settlement. Johnson Osuji Njemanze, son of Njemanze Ohenacho, one of the respected houses in Owerri, arrived in Port Harcourt in 1915. He had attended Bonny Government School and had joined the Nigerian Police force at Calabar as a lancecorporal. He was made Inspector of Police in February 1913. Upon his arrival in Port Harcourt, Johnson Osuji Njemanze and other prominent Owerri traders formed the Owerri Union on 23 April, 1916.4 There are two conflicting traditions of the origin of the Ibo State Union: the Port Harcourt tradition and the Lagos tradition. These two seaport towns had large concentrations of Igbospeaking peoples. Both places had a strong claim as the birthplace of the Ibo State Union. The Port Harcourt tradition says the birth of the Ibo State Union resulted from the reception of 1933 given in honour of Dr S.E.Onwu who had returned home after successfully completing his medical studies in England. We may look at the 1948 pan-Igbo conference at Port Harcourt as part of the ongoing historical process that started in Lagos in the 1920s.

ROLE OF ETHNIC UNIONS 155

The Lagos tradition of origin seems more plausible. The Igbo in Lagos had been subjected to discrimination in housing and employment. Beginning in the 1920s, plans were made to establish an all-Igbo improvement union into which the various Igbo improvement unions would be incorporated. Dr Francis Akanu Ibiam planned to return home after successfully completing medical studies at the University of St Andrews in Scotland. The Igbo in Lagos met at the Igbosere Road residence of Chief Felix Gedaliah Onyiuke, then a Police Inspector and leader in the Onitsha Improvement Union Lagos Branch. It was here that a reception for Dr Ibiam was arranged. It was decided at the meeting to invite all the Igbo residents of Lagos to a reception at the Glover Memorial Hall. The reception for Dr Ibiam in 1934 was the occasion for the initial planning for an Igbo federated union. In 1936, an inaugural meeting of the Igbo union was held in Lagos. In 1944, an ‘Ibo Federal Union’ was established. In December 1948, at Port Harcourt, the union was reorganized and renamed the Ibo State Union. An examination of the early leaders of this union illustrates the kind of men involved in the formation of the union. We have mentioned already Chief Onyiuke, a police inspector. Mr Fred Anyiam, Dr Azikiwe, and Chief Z.C.Obi, leaders of the union, all were in the class that could be called middle class elite, i.e., successful educators, businessmen, and politicians. Dr Azikiwe was President of the Ibo State Union from 1948 to 1952. After his resignation Chief Z.C.Obi, teacher, clerk, business manager, was elected President. Mr Obi ‘was made a chief by the entire Ibo nation with a title “Onune Igbo” (the spokesman of the Igbo) in recognition of his services to the Igbo-speaking people’.5 This was obviously a reflection of Z.C.Obi’s activities in the Ibo State Union. Yoruba ethnic unions also were the brain child of the middle class elite. The leader and one of the founders of the Oyo Progressive union in the 1930s was Mr P.A.Afolabi. He was headmaster of a Catholic school and educational secretary of the Archdiocese of Lagos. Examination of the all-tribal association for the Yorubas, the Egbe Omo Oduduwa, shows active participation by barristers, accountants, educators, and medical doctors in forming the organization in 1945. Professor R.Sklar has done research on the professional status of the founders of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa. They include Dr Oni Akerele, president (a medical


practitioner), Obafemi Awolowo, secretary (barrister), C.O.Taiwo (later principal, Edo College, Benin City, and Inspector of Education, Western Region).6 Professional men also played major roles in forming unions among the Urhobo, Benin, Warri, Ijaw, and Ibibio peoples. Traditional chiefs and leaders also participated in the formation of ethnic unions or were inducted as patrons of these organizations. Ethnic unions theoretically had voluntary membership. In practice, those persons who refused to join their kin were regarded as social and ethnic ‘outcasts’. It was necessary for the urban immigrant to identify with his kinship group. Kinship ties remained a decisive factor in attracting the newly-arrived to the ethnic unions. The various unions, in fact, controlled their membership. These unions attempted to maintain their integrity and moral character by controlling the membership and by having useful relationships with local authorities. The Afikpo Association stipulated that ‘membership shall only be terminated by death, permanent insanity or expulsion’.7 One observer of ethnic unions wrote: To prove their sincerity and honest principles, almost all the tribal unions refuse to admit into their membership the undesirables and people with doubtful characters, as the existence of any such person in their society is a great slur on their union. Where possible, they have reported such undesirables to the local authorities and had them repatriated to their homes.8 Igbo unions were first organized ‘abroad’. Later, union members encouraged the establishment of ‘home branches’. These ‘home branches’ subsequently became headquarters for the unions abroad. The Awka District Union registered one hundred and thirty branches by 1950. Igbo unions reflected traditional political structure in their organization. In traditional Igbo societies, the independent village was the determining factor in Igbo social and political interaction. The loose connection between one level of ethnic unions and the all-embracing Ibo State Union demonstrated Igbo character. Respect and autonomy was evident in the local political and social unit. At the local level was the family union such as the Obazu ‘Family’ Union; next, the Town Union such as the Mbieri Improvement Union; then came the District unions such


as the Mbaitoli Union. At the top of the Ibo ethnic organizations was the alltribal association, i.e., the Ibo State Union. The Ibo State Union has a General Assembly and an executive committee consisting of about forty men. The Assembly was attended by representatives of the various union branches depending on their financial status in the Ibo State Union. Most urban areas had branches of the Ibo State Union. Representation to the Ibo State Assembly which met twice a year was organized in the following manner. Each town, division, and province in the homeland sent representatives to the Assembly. Towns that had twelve or more affiliated unions in the local Ibo State Union were allowed to send four representatives to the Assembly. Areas with twelve or more affiliated unions were classified as ‘A’ grade. Towns with six to eleven affiliated unions were allowed three representatives. These Towns were in ‘B’ grade. Areas that had two to five affiliated unions were in ‘C’ grade and were allowed to send one representative. Igbo improvement unions supported the State Union, especially in situations requiring co-operative action. It should be noted that the Ibo State Union was not active in areas where the Igbo had no problems of residential or occupational discrimination. In these areas, the Ibo State Union was more a symbol of Igbo unity than an organization active in accomplishing certain objectives. Theoretically, the Ibo State Union endorsed a policy of Igbo unity. Practically, the Union never controlled or influenced directly Igbo unions at the local level. Although the various levels interacted with one another, the village ethnic union and the town ethnic union tended to be the focal point where concrete improvement projects were initiated and carried out The decentralized political system of traditional Igbo society was evident in the organizational structure of Igbo unions. The Egbe Omo Oduduwa, on the other hand, was organized according to the centralized Yoruba ‘political’ pattern. Unlike the Ibo State Union, the Egbe Omo Oduduwa was highly centralized. The central Egbe organization formed the local Egbes. Centralization was the aim of the founders of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa. Awolowo once wrote that he ‘decided…to do all in his power to infuse solidarity to the dis jointed tribes that constituted the Yoruba ethnic groups’.9 The Egbe Omo Oduduwa in its organization was more centralized than the Ibo State Union.10 Ethnic unions had specific operational procedures. Elections were held periodically. Leaders were chosen on the basis of


traditional and modern considerations. Prominent and wealthy persons usually were elected to office in the unions. Prominent traders and professional men served as president, treasurer, and patron. Executive committees also consisted of prominent persons. These executives, in addition to being union officers, were spokesmen for the unions in matters affecting the general community. Teachers, clerks, and other literate persons usually served as secretary and circulator in the union. Records and minutes of the meetings were meticulously kept. Union affairs were freely discussed although heated debates and disruptive episodes did sometimes occur. Essentially, Igbo union meetings were a replica of the meeting of the Ndi Oha in the traditional Igbo political system. Most meetings were held on Sunday to make it possible for the traders and ‘salaried class’ to attend. Members were fined for tardiness. The meeting agenda included matters ranging from social and cultural questions to economic issues. Union projects required financial support. Wealthy members became very important in this respect. Those persons who paid all dues, fines, and made financial contributions were considered members. Wealthy members not only were expected to fulfil their financial obligations, but also to support the union in proportion to their economic responsibility by emphasizing that its members should be unfailing in their loyalty to the union. ‘Financial membership’ meant that members should always honour their financial obligations to the union. The Afikpo Town Welfare Association stipulated that ‘every individual desiring to become a registered member shall pay a membership fee of 5s. 6d. (five shiilings, six pence) through the general financial secretary or a branch union’.11 Union privileges always went to the ‘deserving member’ i.e., the person who had kept up his social and economic obligations towards the union. In 1950, the Afikpo Clan Union, Lagos branch, formulated a plan for securing financial support from its members. 1. Individuals who donate one hundred or more pounds will have their names used to name our public buildings or any other things of common interest. Their names will be sung as heroes or heroines and a special title, honour and respect planned out for them.


2. Those who donate fifty or more pounds but not up to 100 will have their names in tablets on the walls of our public buildings. 3. Those who donate twenty-five or more pounds but not up to fifty will have their full plate pictures (with creditable footnotes) framed and hung on the walls of our public buildings. 4. Those who donate ten or more pounds but not up to twentyfive will have their postcard pictures (with creditable footnotes) in a special album to be kept in our future public library. 5. Those who donate two or more pounds but not up to ten will have their names written in gold ink in a special register. 6. All donations below two pounds will be entered into an ordinary register.12 Wealth was considered valuable if it could be converted into social action. Ethnic unions encouraged and, in some cases, pressured their members to make financial contributions to community projects. The unions, by 1946, secured from the colonial government the right to collect dues and fines. This right was granted in the Land Perpetual Succession Ordinance. Under this ordinance, the unions were to be registered. Traditional chiefs were also encouraged to support the union projects. Some of these chiefs gave up their tax rebates in order to contribute to the unions. Revenue also came from the annual publication of magazines known as almanacs. Union members vied with one another to appear in blocks in the Almanac known as ‘staunch members’. They did ‘not mind what it cost them to buy the blocks’.13 The new ‘culture of modernity’ made financial support necessary. The unions put forth much effort to make it possible to carry out modernization projects. Ethnic unions performed many functions. Many of the social services provided for in the modern welfare state were lacking in the urban areas. Ethnic unions moved in to fill this gap. The unions also functioned as cultural shelters for the newly-arrived in the cities. These two functions, providing social services and cultural shelters, were very important in the urban environment where there was a tendency for the individual to lose his identity. The Owerri and Onitsha unions built public halls in which were held meetings, dances, fun fairs, feasts, farewell and reception


ceremonies, especially for newly-arrived members and college graduates returning home from overseas. Union members also could gather in these halls for special occasions involvirig themselves and/or their relatives. Such occasions included marriage, birth, illness, and death. In cases involving death of a union member, the ethnic union assumed the responsibility of repatriating the family of the deceased. These ethnic unions regularly maintained contact with welfare departments. In Lagos in 1948, thirty-one of the fifty tribal unions co-operated with welfare departments officers, ‘settling all disputes, in some cases, repatriating men and women regarded as having undesirable character’.14 Social and cultural programmes were a part of union activities. ‘Ibo Day’ was a very important occasion for the Igbo unions. The objective of the unions was ‘to dedicate a special day, initiated and established by the Ibos, for rest, jubilation and thankfulness to God’.15 ‘Ibo Day’ was a time for reflecting on Igbo cultural heritage. Celebrants were awarded honorific titles, symbolic of the progress a person had made in his community. Each Igbo improvement union presented its dance and masquerade at this festival. Such cultural programmes helped the Igbo maintain his cultural heritage and reduce the psychological pressures of urban living. Yoruba women had gatherings, organized by the various Egbes, that also performed social and cultural functions. Igbo unions attempted to maintain close contact with the ‘home branches’. Some unions, such as the Afikpo Union, were based on the traditional age set structure of the Afikpo. The institution of age sets helped strengthen the connections between union branches abroad and at home. Ethnic unions were kept well-informed of new developments in the homeland. During important festivities such as New Yam Festivities, Easter, and Christmas, many unions organized transportation for a trip to the ancestral homeland. The Aba Improvement Union levied fines on members who failed to make this trip home. The trip home was a time of reunion and economic redistribution. During this time, the ‘sons of the soil abroad’ gave gifts to immediate and distant relatives. Churches in the ancestral home used this occasion to to organize special Sundays for calling upon the various unions in the urban areas to donate to church and community projects. On these special Sundays, the clergy would give its blessings and the village choir would sing ‘Native aires’.


There were occasions in which the ‘sons abroad’ brought about changes in the cultural values of the homeland. On 14 December 1947, the members of the Lagos branch of the Awo Omama Patriotic Union resolved not to marry any girl in their town as long as the dowry remained high. The Lagos members then appealed to the youths in their homeland to take similar action. On New Year’s Day 1948, the youths of the Awo Omama town unanimously adopted the resolution put forth by the Lagos branch. The elders were consulted and the town took steps to reduce the dowry.16 Co-operation between the home branch and the branch abroad was not always the case. The Onitsha case illustrates how the home branch attempted to compete with the Lagos branch for recognition as the official ‘agent of modernization’ in Onitsha. The home branch disliked any signs of being led by the Onitsha residents in Lagos.17 The relationship between the home branch and the branch abroad was positive in many ways. In most cases, the branch abroad acted as an agent of modernization for the homeland. Various community projects were discussed and considered at the all-union meetings held in the homeland. Ethnic unions were instrumental in pushing for better roads, dispensaries, hospitals, water services, electricity, and postal agencies. The Abiriba Communal Improvement Union built a post office at a cost of £5, 000. This project was sponsored by the Nekina age grade. The Aguata Progressive Union undertook to collect over £1,000 for the construction of a post office in their Division.18 In Yorubaland, the Egba Women’s Union built and operated a maternity and child welfare clinic. In Igboland, the Akahaba age grade of the ACIU financed the building of a hospital in Abiriba. Improvement unions were involved in the economic progress of their members. Some unions had very detailed policies regarding the promotion of economic security of their members. Sometimes the unions invested money in commercial enterprises and made available loans to its members. The Afikpo Union, founded in 1944, provided loans to its members at a very low rate of interest.19 Colonial banks discriminated against in-digenous traders and merchants in granted loans. The task of providing credit came to the unions in part. Southern Nigerians took measures to establish lending institutions. Loan systems were established in the Afikpo Town Welfare Association and the Arochukwu unions. The Ibo State Union proposed to organize a national bank as a


means of circumventing the economic discrimination of the colonial banks in Southern Nigeria.20 The African Continental Bank and the National Bank were two efforts, though not directly related to the unions, to provide credit facilities for Southern Nigerians. Members received many services. Improvement unions offered economic advice, surveyed trade and professional opportunities, and analyzed economic possibilities for its members. These services were done informally with an individual member, possessing the economic information, approaching that person who required the material. Ethnic unions made their most outstanding and lasting achievement in the area of education. The unions gave educational projects priority. Motivated by the desire for ‘progress’, Igbo unions worked to recruit their talented ‘sons’ for leadership in the emerging nation of Nigeria. The phrase ‘catching up’ became crucial in the goal of building educational institutions and offering educational scholarships. Okoi Arikpo, Commissioner for Foreign Affairs of Nigeria, summarized the achievements of the improvement unions. They [the unions] believed education to be the greatest single benefit they could offer to their people; so they taxed themselves to raise money to award scholarships to their “deserving youth” to acquire secondary and overseas university education’.21 The constitutions of the various unions were specific in their aims and objectives regarding education. The educational objective of the Abiriba Communal Improvement Union was ‘to encourage the education of our people at all levels. To do this, the union may establish education committees to advise on matters relating to education policy, offer scholarships to deserving sons and daughters of Abiriba’.22 Egbe Omo Oduduwa aimed to fight ‘the evils of superstition and ignorance’. This organization established an endowment fund for the purpose of financing the higher education of ‘Oduduwa scholars’.23 The Egba Women’s Union conducted classes for illiterate women. In Oshogbo, the Rivers Combined People’s Union worked for ‘the education of its members (Rivers Peoples) through meetings, classes, bulletins, literature’.24 Records show that ethnic unions sponsored some of their ‘sons’ for study overseas. The Afikpo Town Welfare Association sponsored a student in 1952 to study law overseas. The Oratta Union helped one of its members to study engineering in England.25 Some prominent legislators, educators, and statesmen


were beneficiaries of the educational projects of their respective unions. Dr E.Udo Udoma received financial aid from the Ibibio State Union to study in the United Kingdom. O.O. Ita and Dr A.Esien were granted financial aid from the Oron Union.26 Scholarship programmes organized by the Urhobo Progressive Union and Ibibio State Union made aid available to persons who later became the first principals of secondary schools in their respective areas. The constitution of the Old Calabar Provincial Union at Oshogbo provided for scholarship grants for ‘deserving sons and daughters of the Old Calabar Province’.27 Chinua Achebe, a Nigerian novelist, vividly portrayed in literary form the role of the ethnic unions in granting scholarships for education. Achebe writes of the Lagos branch of the fictitious Unofia Progressive Union in No Longer At Ease. The Unofia Union gave Obi a scholarship to study overseas. He was expected to repay the eight hundred pounds the union advanced him. The educational grant was awarded because the Unofia Progressive Union wanted to see Obi become a ‘modern’ man.28 Ethnic unions very much wanted to create modern men and modern communities. They concluded that the best way to accomplish (and speed progress towards) this goal would be to build, manage, and control their own institutions of learning. Union members were asked to contribute money towards this goal. As the Ibo State Union in Lagos became more organized, its members thought it fit to employ a full-time administrative secretary. They employed B.Eluwa who brought in the idea of the need of realizing the objective of the union, i.e., the education of the Igbo. Eluwa conducted a series of tours in 1947 of Eastern Nigeria. These tours netted contributions totalling one thousand pounds. This money subsequently was used for the construction of the first buildings of the Ibo National Secondary School in Aba, dedicated in 1948. Other Ibo National Secondary Schools were built and managed by the local Ibo State Unions in the respective cities, not by the national Ibo State Union. The Arondizuogu Union, in less than six hours in a single meeting, raised over £16,000 for building a national college.29 In Yorubaland ‘delegates at the 11th annual General Assembly were reported to have donated £2,161 3s. 5d. to the Egbe Endowment Fund “in less than 90 minutes” including a donation of £1,000 by Olabegi II, the Olowo of Owo, a regional minister without portfolio’.30 Unions often built schools with their own funds and


then turned these schools over to missionary groups. In Nkwerre, seven villages, the Nna Na Ato, through the Nkwerre Aborigines Union, initiated a plan to build a secondary school. By utilizing various fund-raising techniques such as placing a levy on every taxable adult, both at home and abroad, and soliciting donations (one successful Nkwerre businessman donated land for the school), the Nkwerre Union raised a total of £1,000. Having notified the Church Missionary Society of their success in fund raising and having been told that the mission would back the project, the Nkwerre Union went on to build St Augustine Secondary School for Boys in 1948. Later, the Nkwerre Union built St Catherine’s Secondary School for Girls in 1953. In Southern Nigeria, the ethnic unions increased their interest in participating in educational programmes. These unions built numerous secondary schools: Enuda College and Egwuena Girls Secondary School built by the people of Abiriba; Saint Michael’s Secondary School established by the Mimo Brotherhood Society; Obazu Community Grammar School founded by the Obazu Improvement Union; Ibibio State College at Ikot Ekpene in 1946; Urhobo College at Effurum in 1949; Egbado College at Ilaro in 1950; Ibo State College at Aba in 1952. Union members united their efforts to provide for the education of young Southern Nigerians. All the ethnic unions seemed to be unanimous in the belief that modernity could be acquired through education. These unions produced an educational fervour that most towns and villages heretofore had lacked. Igbo unions retained much that was traditional while espousing much that was new. As protectors of traditionalism, the ethnic unions revived certain traditional customs. Many unions specified in their constitutions the objective of preserving ethnic culture. Igbo ethnic unions worked for the preservation of the Igbo cultural heritage. The Abiriba Communal Union agreed in its constitution ‘to promote and preserve aspects of Abiriba culture and tradition’. Interestingly, the Abiriba constitution also specified the preservation of those aspects of cultural heritage that were ‘in keeping with modern times’. The Union spoke out ‘to defend and encourage the good customary rites such as Uche, Omume, IgwaMang and the rest of them.’31 Article II in the Ibo State Union constitution explicitly called for ‘the promotion of cultural understanding among the various groups in Iboland’.32 As previously stated, the ‘Ibo Day’ celebration was


set aside for reflecting on Igbo cultural heritage. The Egba Society advocated the advancement of Yoruba culture and language.33 Egbe Omo Oduduwa emphasized the promotion of Yoruba cultural heritage in various ways. When the Egbe was formed in London in 1945, the organization was to function as a panYoruba cultural society. The name of the society came from Oduduwa, the Yoruba cultural hero and mythical progenitor of the Yoruba people. Egba Omo Oduduwa was inaugurated in June 1948 at Ife, the religious and artistic centre of the Yoruba-speaking peoples. One objective of the society was ‘to recognize and maintain the monarchical and other similar institutions of Yorubaland’.34 When the people of Benin were having internal political troubles, they challenged the power of the Ogboni by forming the Otu Edo (Benin Community). Otu Edo was dedicated to the preservation and defence of tradition, especially the sacred institution of Obaship in Benin. Ethnic unions in Southern Nigeria favoured the retention of cultural heritage while working for the modernization of their respective regions. Some of the ethnic unions became very involved in political activities in Southern Nigeria. Political activity developed even though most ethnic unions initially disapproved of being involved in national politics. As the influence of the unions grew, they began to act as ‘pressure groups’ in the affairs of their local administration. They organized press campaigns to focus the attention of the government on the social needs of their respective tribal areas… Later the unions became active propagandists for the nationalist movement in the demand for self-government.35 Members of the ethnic unions recognized that their organiza tions could act as pressure groups. In 1951, when T.K.Utchay, an Igbo pioneer for private schools, was in trouble with the colonial educational office in Nigeria, he wrote a letter to the Arochukwu Improvement League home branch for assistance. ‘I understand’, Utchay wrote, ‘His Excellency will be coming to Arochukwu. I would like the Elders of Arochukwu to tell him what kind of son I am’.36 The unions readily took on educational projects with the idea that their ‘sons’, once educated, would be able to speak for them when dealing with the colonial government. The Bende Divisional


Union was formed for the purpose of presenting their grievances and demands before the colonial government. The educated men of their town were to be presented in any meeting with the colonial government. A scholarship programme was set up by the union to provide for the education of the children of its sons who, in turn, would be able to plead the case of the union.37 In June 1944, the Lagos Ibo Union, acting as a pressure group, petitioned the Governor for an increase in Igbo representation on the legislative council from one member to six. The union argued that the Igbo population of approximately four million could not be adequately represented with only one member.38 In November 1957, the Ibo State Union acknowledged its functions as a political pressure group. It may only…be necessary to say that the political activities of the union were remarkable only during the period of the country’s intense struggle to remove colonial dictatorship. During this period, it donated funds to politicians like other organizations in the country to assist them in their struggle for the country’s self-government. This was inevitable under colonial government in which political parties are either weak or non-existent.39 Union activities gradually extended into political areas. Awolowo described the transformation of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa into an active political group. When the idea of starting a political party occurred to me in 1949 and I began to make contacts, I had frequent contacts with members of the Egbe…[if] the new party [Action Group] was to make any appreciable showing at all at the regional elections, it must make use of the branches and organization of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa throughout the West Region. Besides, the party organization does cost money; and the people to whom I looked for financial support were to be found at the head of the Egbe… It was when they gave their blessing that I convened the first meeting at which the Action Group was formed.40 What happened to the Egbe Omo Oduduwa also occurred to the Oyo Progressive Union that was organized in the 1930s. The Egbe


Omo Oduduwa and the Action Group conducted a series of attacks on the Alafin in the 1950s. Some of the founders of the Oyo Progressive Union formed the Egbe Oyo Parapo (Oyo Peoples Party) ‘in support of their embattled traditional ruler’. Similar developments occurred in Benin, where the Otu Edo entered candidates in the 1951 local government elections and in the House of Assembly in order to defeat the powerful Ogboni group. In both cases, the Egbe Oyo Parapo and the Otu Edo allied with the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC). The leaders of the Warri National Union inaugurated a Midwest Party that allied with the Action Group. In Ibadan, Chief Adekoke Adelabu and his Egbe Yoruba Parapo (Mobolaje), sworn to the preservation of the honour and prestige of the chiefs and traditional glories of Ibadan, allied with the NCNC in February 1959.41 In most cases, the patriotism of the ethnic unions was converted into ‘statism’. The Ibibio State Union became an acknowledged advocate of the Calabar Ogoja Rivers State movement. The Ijo Rivers Peoples League, replaced by the Council of Rivers Chiefs, also became an active proponent of the idea of a Rivers State. Ethnic unions became political rivals and instruments for personal and regional aggrandizement. The proliferation of ethnic unions made political competition intense. Political leaders found it necessary to vie for popular support by appealing to ethnic solidarity. The politics of ethnic brotherhood came into being in Southern Nigeria. Ethnic unions became political agents because of the discovery that these organizations did not exist in a vacuum. One observer said: The tribal unions, once instruments of social and community development, may soon be transformed into political organizations aiming at the creation of a multitude of political units. That is already happening [in 1950]—the smaller units of the East are using arguments of tribal preservation for the necessity of creating small political units.42 The Ibo State Union, in its selection of Dr Azikiwe as president of the Union from 1948 to 1952 and its unofficial links with the NCNC, came to have the embarrassing epithet, ‘NCNC is a “tribal organization”’. The controversy about whether the Ibo


State Union was a wing of the NCNC was partly resolved when Azikiwe refused to be re-elected president in 1952 and Igbo politicians either withdrew or resigned from the organization. Various unions functioned as conciliators or pacifiers in their respective areas. This function undoubtedly involved the unions in political matters. From 1949 to 1957, the question of Obaship in Lagos revolved around the legitimacy of Oba Adele II. Oba Adele was challenged by the House of Docemo. The Egbe Omo Oduduwa supported the Oba and provided him with prominent barristers, including Sir Adeyemo Alakija, first president of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa. In Ijebu-Ode, the Egbe Omo Oduduwa was involved in settling disputes between Oba Alaiyeluwa Gbelegbuwa II, the Awujale of Ijebu-Ode and certain chiefs and people of IjebuOde. The Ibo State Union functioned as a peacemaker within the NCNC with various degrees of success. During 1952 to 1953, the union made a futile attempt to resolve the NCNC crisis. In 1958, Dr K.O. Mbadiwe was unsuccessful in his efforts to use the Ibo Union to resolve the differences between himself and Dr Azikiwe. While Azikiwe was contending that the Igbo ethnic union did not intervene in national political affairs of the NCNC, his rivals, especially Chief Akintola, premier of Western Nigeria, ‘was reported to have said that the aims and objectives of the Egbe and the Action Group are as inseparable as wine and water’.43 One conclusion that should be made is that ‘there can be no question that political activities of the all-tribal level associations contributed towards separatism, inter-tribal tensions and the growth of sub-nationalism’.44 The Ibo State Union’s limited involvement in federal politics came as a defensive response to discrimination and attacks’.45 Local ethnic unions were instrumental in settling disputes. The Uratta Union was formed as a result of a land dispute between Njoku Enwereuzor of Okwu and J.K.Osuji of Owerri. This union was organized in 1941 in an effort to restore the peace. Activities of the Uratta Improvement Union included attacks on injustice and bribery in the Native Court System and the peaceful settlement of disputes among union members. Rivalry among claimants to the throne of the Obi of Onitsha, from 1931, led to the establishment of an Onitsha Union home branch. By 1935, it became apparent that the Onitsha Union was to be an ‘instrument for re-establishing peace in the area. If union members became involved in land disputes in Igboland, their organizations were ready to employ


lawyers and spend money to obtain a legal victory. Disputes such as the OnitshaObosi land dispute, the Ohuhu-Ibeku railway station location dispute, the Orlu-Umuna conflict over the Orie Ugwu market, the Ifite-Osile land dispute (1914–36), and the Ikeduru and Uratta land dispute were some of the cases in which the ethnic unions intervened. The negative effects of sub-nationalism and inter-ethnic tension were evident even in academic institutions. A crisis between Dr Eni Njoku and Dr S.O.Biobaku at the University of Lagos demonstrates how ethnic rivalry permeated every area of national life. Dr Eni Njoku was the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Lagos. His appointment was to expire 31 May 1965. The expectation was that Dr Njoku would not have his appointment renewed. Dr S.Biobaku, of the University of Ife, was named by the University of Lagos Provisional Council to replace Dr Njoku. Newspapers in Nigeria and public opinion saw the issue as an Igbo-Yoruba struggle for power. Yoruba sentiments were expressed in a lengthy congratulatory message sent to Dr Biobaku by the Action Group. Igbo sentiments were expressed in a letter sent to Sir Abubaka Tafawa Balewa, the Prime Minister, by the Ibo State Union, which called upon Balewa to ‘use his good offices to reinstate Dr Eni Njoku as the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Lagos in the interest of peace and unity’.46 Dr Njoku was not reinstated. This incident was one more development that added to the existing friction between the various ethnic groups. Rivalry between ethnic groups accelerated and, in some instances, resulted in bloody encounters. National politics were adversely affected by ethnic conflicts. By the time of the January 1966 coup, ethnic unions, especially the ‘all-tribal level’ groups, had been discredited in the minds of those who frowned upon the ‘evils of parochialism and tribalism’. These all-tribal associations became institutions of opprobrium. The first military government believed that the new nation was most in need of unity. National unity was being hindered by the all-tribal unions and their political activities. In 1966, twenty-six national ethnic unions were banned.47 Ethnic unions, in spite of their later disruptive effect, played an important role in Southern Nigeria. They functioned as a means of communicating and transmitting modernity, cultural change, and continuity. These unions regarded their work as a kind of mission. This idea of a mission was reflected in the names given to the


numerous associations: patriotic, welfare, progressive, improvement, and traditional. The peoples of Southern Nigeria utilized the unions to facilitate their adjustment to the complex urban environments and to reconcile urban and rural life. Ethnic honour and pride was reinforced through the various ‘community action programmes’. Projects for modernization were financed and realized by ethnic associations at the local level. These organizations through their activities helped satisfy the rising expectations for social welfare services and amenities. A study of the ethnic unions gives evidence of the direction the unions must go, especially in the aftermath of the bitter civil war in Nigeria. For all their pride in community consciousness, these unions, perhaps, can begin to realize a new sense of partnership and share in building a more nationally-oriented image. Ethnic unions can become the nucleus of co-operative movements at the local level. The potential role of ethnic unions could be very important in Nigeria. NOTES 1. Pioneer work on the social and political importance of ethnic unions has been done by James Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism, Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1958; Immanuel Wallerstein, ‘Ethnicity and national integration in West Africa’ in Pierre L.van den Berghe (ed.), Africa: Social Problems of Change and Conflict, San Francisco, 1965, pp.472–482; Richard Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties: Power in an Emergent African Nation, Princeton, 1963; Audrey C.Smock, Ibo Politics: The Role of Ethnic Unions in Eastern Nigeria, Harvard, 1971. Simon Ottenberg has written a number of articles on the improvement unions of Afikpo. 2. Abiodun Aloba, Tribal Unions in Party Politics’, West Africa, 38, 1950 (10 July 1954), p.637. One irony of history is that the first record of organized ethnic improvement unions of people of Southern Nigerian descent was made in Bathurst, Gambia and Freetown, Sierra Leone. Thomas Refell, a prominent Igbo trader and ex-soldier, founded the first Igbo improvement union in Bathurst, Gambia in 1842. The Igbo in Yoruba groups formed their own unions, having realized the advantages of an organized Igbo community in Bathurst. Florence K. Mahoney, ‘African leadership in Bathurst in the nineteenth century’, Tarikh, 2, 2 (1968), pp.31–2. By 1860, the Igbo community in Freetown had organized an Igbo union with William Henry Pratt as president. The Igbo union in


3. 4. 5.

6.

7. 8. 9. 10.

11. 12. 13. 14.

15. 16. 17.

18. 19.

20.

Sierra Leone formed a committee to examine the possibility of extending their activities into their ancestral homeland (in Igboland). Africanus Horton, a scientist and medical doctor, was an active member of the Freetown Igbo union. Christopher Fyfe, Africanus Horton: West African Scientist and Patriot 1835–1883, London, 1972, pp.49–50, 79–80. E.P.Onyeaka Offodile, ‘Growth and influence of tribal unions’, The West African Review, 18, 239 (August 1947), p.937. Akwaelumo Ike, Great Men of Iboland, Aba, 1952, p.12. Chief Frederick Uzoma Anyiam, Among Nigerian Celebrities, Yaba Lagos, 1960, pp. 68–9. Z.C.Obi did all he could to see the Ibo State Union remain non-political, especially during the period of national political rivalry. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties, p.67, has a detailed list of the earlier founders of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa and their professional affiliations. The Afikpo Town Welfare Association Constitution, March 20, 1950, Afikpo, 1952, pp.14–15. Offodile, ‘Growth and Influence’, p.939. Obafemi Awolo, Awo, Cambridge, 1960, p.166. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties. Sklar has examined the organizational structures of these ethnic unions. He concludes that the Egbe Omo Oduduwa was highly centralized and controlled very effectively its local branches. The Afikpo Town Welfare Association Constitution, p.2. Letter from Afikpo Clan Union, Lagos Branch, December 1950, to the Annual Convention, pp.25–6. Offodile, ‘Growth and Influence’, p.937. Suzanne Comhaire-Sylvain, ‘Association on the basis of origin in Lagos, Nigeria’, The American Catholic Sociological Review, 11 (1950), 235. Programme of the Ibo Day Celebrations, (7 December 1963). Comhaire-Sylvain, ‘Association’, p.236. Richard H.Henderson, ‘Generalized cultures and evolutionary adaptability: a comparison of urban Efik and Ibo in Nigeria’, Ethnology, 5 (1966), 365–91. Note the section entitled ‘Development of Tribal Unions in Onitsha’, 379–84. A.Nwankwo Ezeabasili, The Ibo in town and tribe’, African World (April, 1960), 12. Simon Ottenberg, The development of Credit Associations in the changing economy of the Afikpo Igbo’, Africa, 38 (July 1968), pp. 237–52. West African Pilot, 7 March 1946 contains the proposal by the Ibo State Union to build a national bank.


21. Okoi Arikpo, The Development of Modern Nigeria, London, 1967, p. 59. 22. O.Ekeghe, A Short History of Abiriba, Aba, 1956, pp.31–2. 23. Egbe Omo Oduduwa Monthly Bulletin, 1, 2 (November, 1948) in Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties, p.69. 24. For the Rivers Combined Union, see The Rivers Combined Peoples Union Oshogbo, Oshogbo, n.d., p.2. For the Egba Women Union, see T. Hodgkins, Nationalism in Colonial Africa, London, 1956. 25. Patrick D.Okoroh, A Short History of Uratta, Benson Press, n.d., pp. 12–13. For Afikpo, see Minutes of the First Annual Convention of the Afikpo Town Welfare Association (23–24 December 1950), p. 5. 26. Aloba, ‘Tribal Unions’, p.637. 27. The Old Calabar Provincial Union Constitution, Oshogbo, n.d., pp. 1–2. 28. Chinua Achebe, No Longer At Ease, New York, 1960, pp.7, 158– 9. 29. Aloba, ‘Tribal Unions’, p.637. 30. Daily Service, 29 November 1958 in Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties, p. 457. 31. Ekeghe, A Short History, pp.31–2. 32. Ibo State Union Constitution, Port Harcourt, n.d. 33. Daily Times, 7 October 1942. 34. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties, pp.68–9, quoted the aims and objectives of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa. 35. Arikpo, The Development of Modern Nigeria, pp.59–60. 36. T.K.Utchay, A Letter to the Elders of Arochukwu Through His Highness Paramount Chief Kanu Oji, Oro Arochukwu, 1 May 1951. 37. J.S.Harris, ‘Some aspects of the economics of sixteen Ibo individuals’, Africa, 14, 6 (April, 1944), 321. 38. West African Pilot, 19 June 1944. 39. Memorandum submitted to the Minorities Commission by the Ibo State Union in Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties, p.461. 40. Awolowo, Awo, p.220. 41. Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties, gives the intricacies of these ethnic union political alliances with national political parties. 42. Aloba, ‘Tribal Unions’, p.637. 43. Minutes of the Ninth Annual General Assembly of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa held at Shagamu, Ijebu-Remo, 17–19 December 1956 in Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties, p.464. 44. James S.Coleman, The Role of Tribal Associations in Nigeria’, (summary of a paper read at Plenary Session), West African Institute


of Social and Economic Research, University College, Ibadan, Nigeria, April 1952, p.4. 45. Audrey Smock, Ibo Politics, p.172. 46. Daily Express, 18 March 1965. 47. Decree No.33, Federal Republic of Nigeria Official Gazette, Lagos, 24 May 1966.

174

9 The Nigerian Civil Service in the Colonial Era: A Study of Imperial Reactions to Changing Circumstances G.O.Olusanya

One admirable aspect of British colonial policy was its lack of rigidity. The British were always willing, if the need arose, to modify or even change their policies to suit the peculiar conditions of a particular colony or prevailing world circumstances at any given time. It is this flexibility, sometimes regarded by others as a lack of policy, that made the process of decolonization peaceful in many British dependent territories. The history of the Nigerian colonial civil service illustrates this point. From 1861, when Lagos was acquired by Britain, until 1960, when Nigeria became independent, the civil service witnessed a number of significant changes, particularly as regards the use of Nigerian personnel and its role in the general welfare and development of Nigerians. In essence these were the reactions of the Imperial government to changing circumstances not only in Britain and in Nigeria, but in the world at large. In the period 1861–90, the British were not averse to the use of Africans at any level in the administration. There were many reasons for this. First, West Africa was still regarded as the ‘white man’s grave’ par excellence. This was clearly demonstrated by the reaction of Captain (later Sir) Richard Burton to the offer of an appointment as British Consul for the Bight of Benin and Biafra by the Foreign Office. He declared that They wanted me to die but I intend to live just to spite the devils’.1 Apart from the fact that the climate was far from being favourable to the whites, there was also the fact that diseases such as malaria, yellow fever, and dysentry claimed the lives of many Europeans in West Africa. For instance, half of the European population of Freetown in Sierra Leone died in 1859 alone.2 Since the British were determined to trade in West Africa, they had to maintain at least a skeleton administration, and since white men could not be used in large numbers because of the


heavy loss of lives, it became necessary for the administration to adopt an open-door policy as far as recruitment was concerned. Thus Africans were encouraged to take up posts in the administration at various levels. Second, the future of Britain in Africa remained in doubt until about the 1800s. The period before then was characterized by antiimperial feelings. ‘Little Englandism’ dominated British policy, particularly under Gladstone. It was not until Disraeli became Prime Minister in 1874 that the imperial sentiment began fully to manifest itself. Because of the existence of anti-imperial sentiment before the 1880s, Britain hesitated to build up any large-scale administration in Nigeria, or in any West African territories for that matter. But since she was interested in trading in the area and a minimum of administration was necessary to ensure peace and order, without which trade could not flourish, she had no choice but to attract Africans into the administration. What was true of the British government was also true of the Christian missions who, faced with the same problems, had to devise a policy of using not only liberated slaves from the West Indies, Liberia, and Sierra Leone, but also Africans on the spot to carry on the task of evangelization. As a result of the factors outlined above, Africans were recruited into the administration at various levels. During this period ability rather than race was the criterion for appointing a man to a post; and continuing display of ability, industry, devotion to duty, and loyalty were the essential criteria for advancement rather than the colour of the skin. The career of Otumba Payne illustrates this point clearly. Payne started as a police clerk under the FreemanGlover administration in 1862, and by dint of hard work and ability rose to the post of Registrar, Supreme Court, in 1867.3 There were other Africans such as Adolphus Pratt who rose from humble beginnings to become Superintendent of Police; Charles Foresythe rose from the post of postmaster and clerk in the Colonial Secretary’s Office to become Treasurer, Crown Prosecutor, and Clerk to the Legislative Council in 1871. Others such as Williams James Maxwell, I.N.Willoughby, Walter Lewis, W.T.G.Lawson, and S.B.Williams held such important posts of Collector of Customs, Interpreter to the Criminal Court, and Superintendent of Works, while Charles Pike once acted as Deputy to the Governor after 1885 when Griffith was called upon to take charge of the Gold Coast administration.4 The policy up to the

CIVIL SERVICE IN THE COLONIAL ERA 177

1880s was therefore one of equal opportunity for all irrespective of colour or race. But from the late 1880s onwards, a change of attitude was becoming noticeable. This change was the product of British reaction to a number of developments. First, West Africa was gradually ceasing to be the ‘white man’s grave’. The discovery of the uses of quinine was gradually destroying the menace posed by malaria, and by taking due precaution so as not to be exposed to the hot sun for too long, West Africa could become habitable. Moreover, the imperial movement was coming into its own. ‘Little Englandism’ which had been championed by Glad-stone was becoming discredited as European nations began to scramble for a ‘place in the sun’. There was at this time an almost insatiable desire to ‘peg a claim for the future’ to any portion of Africa, however inhospitable. This development was stimulated by the rapid growth of industrialization in Europe in the late nineteenth century. As the other European nations erected tariff barriers against Britain, which had been the leader of industrial revolution, she had to find markets and raw materials outside Europe. The new industrial nations themselves had also to look abroad for sources of raw materials and possible markets for their manufactured products and also for possible sources of investment. Apart from economic needs, the acquisition of colonies was now becoming a matter of prestige. The larger your colonial territories, the greater your prestige. Consequently, conflicting claims were made and conflicts ensued even over the arid and unprofitable areas such as the Sahara Desert. Moreover, nations such as Germany encouraged others, particularly France, to look for colonies abroad in order to divert attention from European affairs. France herself, conquered and humiliated in the Franco-Prussian War, turned her attention towards the acquisition of colonies partly to get more men to use in a future war with Germany and partly to forget her loss of pride as a result of her defeat. In Britain, the Christian missionaries and the military classes urged a forward policy in Africa, the former in order to be able to pursue their task of evangelization with a minimum of difficulty and the latter in order to find a fertile field for the achievement of laurels and glory. The result of this development was that the lack of interest in acquisition in colonies hitherto shown by Britain in West Africa disappeared. In its place there arose a keen desire to


acquire as much of the area as possible. With this development, the change of attitude and policy on the part of the administration became noticeable. The administration now adopted a new policy of excluding Africans from positions of responsibility, no matter what their qualifications and ability were. Those that were already holding responsible positions were prevented from further advancement. The career of one of the most brilliant Nigerians, Henry Carr, can be used to illustrate this change of policy. Henry Carr, who held the degrees of Master of Arts and Bachelor of Law from the University of Durham, had been attracted from his post as a secondary school teacher at the CMS Grammar School, Lagos, into the administration as Inspector of Schools, Lagos Colony, by Governor C.A.Moloney in 1889 because of his brilliance.5 He served in this post with distinction and won the respect and admiration of many of his white colleagues. Despite his fourteen years of dedicated service, his high integrity, and his devotion to duty, he was passed over when Directors of Education were to be appointed in 1906, 1909, and 1910, and instead young Englishmen, J.A.Douglas, Rowden, and J.H.Hyde-Johnson, with little experience and with qualifications which could not be compared with those of Carr, were appointed. This so frustrated him that he decided to resign from the service and might have done so had he not been dissuaded by Governor MacGregor.6 Carr’s frustration was aptly expressed when he stated: ‘I am as it were a permanent understudy and I have the mortification of seeing young men with defective knowledge of the local situation being appointed over me to depreciate my labours’.7 Carr was not an exception. For instance, Herbert Macaulay after having fully qualified as a civil engineer had the mortification of being paid a lower salary than a European foreman in the same Department. This must have hastened his departure from the administration and stimulated his nationalistic activities. Another African, Oke, after being sent overseas for further studies in prison work came back to earn exactly what he was earning before his departure to Britain.8 Others such as Dr Obadiah Johnson, Dr Sapara, and Dr Randle were so humiliated by their European colleagues that they had no choice but to resign their posts in the civil service. Several reasons were generally given by the Administration for this change in attitude. There was the argument that the British government and the British public had come to regard Africans


with suspicion because of the misbehaviour of a number of African officials, particularly on the Gold Coast. For instance, the Bannerman brothers who had attained high positions in the Gold Coast Administration were found guilty of embezzlement and extortion in 1861 and 1863 respectively, and were therefore dismissed from the service.9 But the citation of the misbehaviour of a few Africans to justify exclusion of Africans from responsible positions in the Administration was most unfair. British officers did misbehave but this did not prevent other British officials from being appointed to responsible positions.10 This was well put by Tremearne when he stated: It will certainly be several generations before the West African native, however carefully trained he may be, will have gained that force of character which the Englishman now inherits as a sort of birthright and which will fit him to be placed in an independent position of authority, whether in the Service of the Church or the State.11 This was nothing but malicious propaganda.12 Before this period European administrators had testified to African ability and sense of duty. Governor Griffith in his comments on the African officials in the Administration had this to say: With respect to the legal employment of natives. I was fortunate in being able for sometime to avail myself of the services of Mr Nash Williams, a native of Sierra Leone and a British barrister of the Middle Temple. Whilst many of the most respectable offices have been, or are being filled by other Sierra Leone gentlemen, as in the instance of Mr Lawson, the Colonial Assistant Surveyor, Mr Pike and Dr Easmon, Mr Willoughby and Mr Pratt of the constabulary, whilst Mr Payne an Ijebu and a most indefatigable public officer has been for many years Registrar of the Supreme Court.13 The basis of the new policy was to be found not in the misbehaviour of a few African officials on the Gold Coast, nor in the propaganda about the incapability of the Africans to hold responsible positions in the Administration, but in the fact that with the growth of the imperial movement and its rationale which


emphasized the ‘white man’s burden’ of bringing law to the ‘lesser breeds without law’, it became imperative that Africans or people of African origin should not be appointed to positions of responsibility, particularly those which would involve the exercise of control or authority over white men. This is because this would make nonsense of the moral basis claimed for the imposition of British rule over the non-white races of the world. This was made abundantly clear when an official in the British Colonial Office stated that as long as Britain remained in West Africa, no African could be appointed to any but subordinate positions.14 Thus the new attitude was nothing but a reaction to the growth of the imperial movement which led to the acquisition of vast territories in Africa. This is further borne out by the fact that the stronger the British control or hold over Nigeria, the less was the opportunity for Africans in the Administration. However, until the turn of the nineteenth century, though the policy of exclusion of Africans from the civil service had become accepted practice in all British African territories, it was not specifically laid down as a policy. It was more of an administrative practice. This was because the British government felt reluctant to commit to paper a policy which obviously involved racial discrimination. By 1900, however, that hesitation or reluctance had disappeared. This was made very clear when the West African Medical Service was becoming re-organized in 1901. It was specifically laid down that no African should be appointed to that service.15 A number of reasons were advanced for this. It was claimed that conditions in Southern Nigeria where Europeans lived together and had their meals in common under a mess system and in Northern Nigeria where most of the officials of the administration were members of the regular army, made it highly undesirable for Africans to be appointed to the service, that European patients had no confidence in the ability of African doctors, and that in any case African doctors had been tried out in Southern Nigeria but with little success. It was laid down that if necessity warranted the appointment of African medical officers at all, they should be kept on separate rosters and in no case should they be allowed to go on military expeditions nor should European officers be placed under them in any circumstances. To justify cases of discrimination against Africans who might be seeking employment officials were advised to justify their failure by informing them that they were


either not sufficiently qualified or that there were other qualifications which had to be taken into consideration by the government.16 The arguments put forward by the British government cannot be supported by evidence. It was certainly not true that European patients had no confidence in African medical officers, nor was it true that African doctors had been tried in Southern Nigeria without success. A number of African medical officers who had either been refused appointment by the administration, or who had resigned from government service because of the new practice of racial discrimination developed extensive practices amongst the European community in Nigeria. For instance, Dr Jenkins Lumpkins who had been refused appointment in the Medical Service in Lagos, enjoyed a good practice amongst Europeans in Lagos, particularly amongst the officials of the French firm of Regis Aine. Drs Obasa and Randle, after resigning from the administration, also had an extensive practice amongst European residents in Lagos. That this policy was based on race rather than on the spurious reasons given by the administration was made clear when Joseph Chamberlain was asked whether Indian doctors could be employed in the West African Medical Services. He replied that it was pretty clear to men of ordinary sense that British officers could have no confidence in Indian or in native doctors. It can be further substantiated by Lugard’s attitude to the appointment of African engineers in a department containing European technicians. He pointed out that difficulties would arise if a young African engineer was placed in charge of British plate-layers, artisans, and skilled foremen.17 On another occasion, Lugard made it clear that native officials, however well qualified, could not hope to apply for, or compete on equal terms with, a non-native for a senior post, and any consideration of his ability to serve outside of these units would be made only by special agreement between the government authority and the particular individual concerned.18 Indeed, Lugard was a great exponent of the ‘white man’s superiority’ and did all he could to support this belief during his tenure of office in Nigeria as Governor-General. He pursued the policy of racial discrimina tion actively and sought every means to exclude indigenous Africans from responsible positions in the administration.19


From 1900 onwards, the door of opportunity for Africans was not only being shut but barred. The number of British officials coming to West Africa rose considerably. In 1901, there were only 50 European administrative staff in Nigeria. By 1905, they had increased in number to 150 and by 1909, the figure rose to 250. By 1913, Northern Nigeria alone had 135 Residents and 47 doctors all on the administrative scale.20 And as the death-rate for Europeans declined,21 the number of British officials coming into Nigeria increased. In the general administration, Africans were no longer to rise above the post of Chief Clerk, except in very rare cases such as McEwen who rose to be Assistant Secretary. Also, the Service was divided into two parts—the European and the African Services, and the former enjoyed far better conditions of service as regards pay, leave allowance, pension, and housing than did the latter. This situation did not change until the post-Second World War period when, as a result of a number of factors (to be discussed later), the policy could no longer be maintained. The exclusion of Africans from responsible positions in the administration had two main results. First, it discouraged Africans from taking up those professions which would make them look to the administration for employment. This was why the professions of law and medicine were so popular in Nigeria in the colonial era; Africans took to those professions not only because of the freedom attached to them, nor for their financial rewards and prestige value as was commonly believed by British administrators, but also because they provided an alternative to service in a colonial civil service that was hostile to them. Second, because of this exclusion, African civil servants did not develop a sense of belonging to the service. They regarded it as an alien system in which they were at best tolerated. Their feelings in this respect were expressed by J.J.Marinho, at one time Chairman of the Public Service Commission, Western Region, when he stated that the indigenous people looked upon the service as ‘a foreign capitalistic organisation owned by the white man for the purpose of the white man’. He continued: It was an organisation in which the indigenous participator regarded himself and perhaps correctly so in the scheme of things as then prevailed not as owners of, nor even partners in the service, but as a hired labourer with his monthly cash payment as the only motivation to work and as the only


connecting link, a very tenuous one between him and those he professed to serve. In many quarters then the approach to the Civil Service was characterised by the old saying that whether the business prospers or not, the labourer must be paid their wages in full. In short there was not much feeling of belonging. This generally speaking has been the way in which the Public Service has been conceived.22 However the impact of the Second World War and the forces that war brought into existence destroyed the policy of racial discrimination in the administration and substituted for it that of Nigerianization. Also before the post-Second World War period although the administration had been responsible for maintaining law and order and for building the infrastructure of roads and railways vital for economic development, yet it had not much concerned itself with the general welfare of the people. Little or no en-couragement was given to the improvement of peasant agriculture; cash crops were encouraged over and above food crops, and health facilities were woefully inadequate. The excuse generally given was that this was a period of free economic enterprise in Britain itself and that the colonial administration expected private enterprises to provide the necessary driving force for economic development which would reach such a degree that the average man would also benefit. But this was difficult to achieve in a colonial situation where the subject peoples were at a low level of development and therefore in-capable of competing with foreign concerns and thereby unable to participate meaningfully in the economic life of the country. In such a situation and without adequate governmental control, which was the case in British colonies during this period, most of the profits of trade were taken out of the country rather than being ploughed back to generate further economic development. Moreover, since the subject peoples had no control over their economic life they were helpless victims of foreign private enterprises. Low prices were paid for their primary products and high prices charged for the goods manufactured from the same products. In a situation such as this there could be little benefit for the colonial peoples. The imperial government with its policy that ‘each colony must live of its own’ did not provide the subject peoples the means whereby they could participate meaningfully in the economic life of their nation.


Little or no education was provided by the administration. The provision of education was left almost entirely to the Christian missions and though these struggled valiantly to spread the blessings of education, nevertheless they failed to achieve much because of the aims underlying their educational activities. The purpose of the Christian missions in providing education was to make it possible for their converts to be able to read, write, and understand the Bible and the basic Christian teachings, and to produce indigenous priests and catechists who would help to bring the gospel of Christ to their kith and kin, who were be-lieved to be still ‘living in darkness and in the shadow of death’. Consequently, their curriculum was the simplest one. Religious knowledge featured prominently. In addition, simple arithmetic, English, and hygiene, and Nature Study were also taught. Since their aim was to convert as many people as possible, they generally oyer-stretched themselves, and with the small financial resources at their disposal, very little could be achieved in the way of quality. There was thus a yawning gap in the field of education crying out to be filled, but the administration remained unconcerned until the post-Second World War period. The result was that there were only a few secondary schools, and these were not free, thus post-primary education was limited to those very few whose parents could afford it, or those whose parents were willing to make heavy personal sacrifices to obtain education for their children. In addition, until 1930 when the Medical School was established in Yaba, there was no post-secondary institution in Nigeria, and when the Yaba Higher College was established in 1934, it failed to meet the aspirations of Nigerians. This was because, unlike Fourah Bay College which prepared its students for the degrees of Durham University, and Achimota College (Ghana) which entered its students for the University of London external degrees, the Yaba Higher College was to offer not degrees but diplomas. This meant that the qualifications to be taken would be inferior to those who attended Fourah Bay College or Achimota College, or those who studied in Britain. To make matters worse, admission was determined by the number of vacancies envisaged in the government departments. The result was that only eighteen students were admitted in the first year and in the years that followed, the largest number ever admitted was thirty-six, although there were over 150 applications received every year. Moreover, the students had no choice as to the courses they


wanted to take. These were determined for them. Indeed, so frustrated were Nigerians by these attempts of the administration to provide higher educational institutions that they established a political organization—the Lagos Youth Movement—to oppose it. When they failed, they began to demand that scholarships be awarded to Nigerians to study overseas. In 1937, the administration yielded to this demand but pursued the policy with little enthusiasm. The result was that by 1945 only thirty-seven scholarships had been awarded. So inactive was the administration in the field of education that the Report of the Board of Education for the Southern Provinces expressed the fear, in the 1938 Annual Report, that Nigeria was in the invidious position of providing fewer education opportunities than any other British colony in Africa and that efforts should be made to improve on the desperate situation.23 Indeed the situation was very desperate for in 1939 only thirteen per cent (300,000 out of 3 million) Nigerian children were receiving any form of instruction at all.24 The then Governor of Nigeria, Sir Bernard Bourdillion, was so embarrassed that he hurriedly prepared an education programme which envisaged a school population of an additional 176,000 children for a period of six years in the postwar period. Since Nigeria’s population grew by four per cent every year, the increase in percentage of school children would be six per cent. The Governor himself realized this was inadequate and tried to justify it by the fact that the country was poor. The Advisory Council on Education in the Colonial Office, in its comments on the Scheme, observed that it hardly touched the fringe of the problem. Thus in the period before the Second World War the colonial administration did not concern itself much with the general welfare and social development of Nigerians nor was it keen on using Nigerians in the administration, particularly in responsible positions. However, there were developments heralding a change of attitude on the part of the colonial administration even before the war. First, the problems of colonies were beginning to attract attention in Britain and various studies were undertaken on these problems. One such study was carried out by Lord Hailey who went on a mission to the various African colonies and published on his return An African Survey. This work revealed the appalling conditions in these territories and the revelations staggered the British government. Abuses of monopoly and of exploitation,


problems of malnutrition and ill health were focused upon. It is true that nothing was done to improve the situation. As Rita Hinden points out such revelation did help to gradually destroy the apathy characteristic of British Colonial Policy in that it contributed to the ‘shaping of a state of mind which would eventually and inevitably demand that action to be taken’.25 But what gave the imperial government the greatest jolt and aroused Britain to positive conception of her duty as a colonial power was the series of riots which broke out in the various West Indian colonies between 1935 and 1937. Though there had been warnings that these would happen,26 the British government had paid no attention to them and the result was that it was taken unawares. A commission, the Moyne Commission, was immediately sent out to investigate the situation and to report its findings. Its report was so revealing and so shocking that the British government refused to publish it so as not to provide propaganda material for use by Nazi Germany. The Report, in its observation of the condition of the people in the West Indies stated: The conditions of many of the townspeople as we saw for ourselves is pitiable. Of the condition of much of the housing we speak in Chapter 11. Other circumstances are little better. The poorer quarters of towns show all the obvious consequences of hunger, diseases, ignorance and crime and of shiftless improvidence.27 Its observation on the health of the people was no less disturbing. It talked of ‘chronic sickness amongst the people’, of the large percentage of the population infested with hookworm, and of a high number of people suffering from yaws and venereal diseases to the degree that these constituted serious economic and social problems.28 So shocking were these revelations that the complacency hitherto exhibited by the British government in colonial affairs was destroyed and with the continuous campaign of Hitler that Germany’s ex-colonies be returned, Britain began to re-examine her own colonial policy. It was while this re-examination was going on that the Second World War broke out. The outbreak of war, the desire to prosecute the war without being hampered by colonial unrest, and the need to gain the support of her colonial


subjects, led Britain to pass the Colonial Development and Welfare Funds Act in 1940. This provided at the outset £5 million a year for five years, to be spent on research and survey work, and on schemes of major capital enterprises and expansion of administrative and technical staff necessary for the colonies’ full and vigorous development. In his speech on the debate on the Bill, the Colonial Secretary, Mr Malcolm Mac-Donald, enunciated a more positive approach towards colonial development when he stated: However able their governments, however efficient their economic administration, many colonies cannot finance out of their own resources the research and survey work, the schemes of major capital enterprise, the expansion of administrative or technical staff which are necessary for the full and vigorous development. Nor can they always afford, in the absence of such development, an adequate standard of health and educational services.29 The principle of trusteeship was once again affirmed. This Act was essentially a reaction, to the situation in the West Indies in particular, and to the outbreak of the Second World War in general, and constituted a departure in colonial policy. It brought to an end the doctrine that ‘each colony must live of its own’ and ushered in the period of creative abdication. The war itself helped to further strengthen Britain’s resolve to pursue actively the policy of trusteeship in which the general welfare of the people became one of her main policy goals. The unflinching support which she received throughout the War from her subject peoples (except in Malaysia where her down-fall was treated with indifference by the indigenous population)30 encouraged her to take greater interest in their welfare. Even the apathy of the indigenous Malays led to the same end, for it was believed that if colonial rule had been made attractive to the people, they would not have witnessed its disappearance under the Japanese onslaught with such indifference. The defeat of Britain in the Far East by the coloured nation, Japan, greatly undermined the prestige of the white man and encouraged, to an unprecedented extent, the growth of nationalistic sentiment throughout the dependent territories. As A.P.Thornton puts it: ‘A damage had been done to the white man’s prestige that no political


reconstruction, no constitution-making was able to erase’.31 As a result of this political awareness, it was realized in Britain that the maintenance of a peaceful colonial regime called for concessions on the part of the imperial power. Britain herself had been weakened by the war and was therefore not in a strong position to face colonial unrest in many parts of her dependent territories. If even she had attempted to use force to maintain her hold on the colonies, she would have received little support from the British public. Britain had become much more democratic by this time, and there was sympathy for the nationalists based on this view. This was due to the tendency to believe that all nationalists were democrats. Again the attitude in Britain was well put by A.P.Thornton, when he stated: ‘a recently con-scripted democracy saw no reason, at the conclusion of another war for freedom, to remain in uniform in order to hold in subjection peoples who plainly wished to be free. And democracy was now fairly in the saddle in Britain, as it had not been in 1919–1920’.32 Moreover, with the coming to power, in 1945, of the Labour Party, with its most sympathetic attitude towards the subject peoples, it was obvious that a change in policy and attitude was bound to come. This had already been foreshadowed by Attlee’s pronouncement during the war. He stated in a speech to the West African Students Union in 1941 that: We in the Labour Party have always been conscious of the wrong done by the white races to the races with darker skins. We have always demanded that the freedom which we claim for ourselves would be extended to all men… We fight this war not just for ourselves alone, but for all people… I look for an ever-increasing measure of self government in Africa and for an ever-rising standard of life for all peoples of Africa.33 All these factors strengthened the belief in the policy of responsible decolonization. The end of the war therefore saw the beginning of the working out of various development programmes for the colonies. In Nigeria a Ten-Year Development Plan involving a total sum of £6 million was introduced, about half that amount coming from British grants. The plan concentrated on general and technical education, agricultural research, and roads. These were identified as high priority projects.34 The civil service came now to


be involved in the whole process of improving the social conditions of the people by raising the level of development. A Nigerian university college, the Ibadan University College, made its appearance in 1948, followed by the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology, with branches in Ibadan, Enugu, and Zaria. The period of creative abdication had begun. These developments affected the policy of racial discrimination in the civil service in a vital way. In the first instance, shortage of manpower during the war had made it necessary to relax the discriminatory policy to some extent. To keep the administration going, Africans had been appointed to replace British officers who had entered the armed forces. Moreover, with the end of the war, Britain herself needed her trained man-power at home and so there was no great surplus to send overseas. If the development programme was to be implemented, there was no choice but to rely on local human resources. In addition the British government, now more firmly committed to a policy of decolonization than it had been before the war, realized that for this to be successfully implemented, the colonial peoples themselves must be actively associated with the task of administration so that they could take over from the British civil servants whenever independence became a reality. That they had come to this conclusion was made very clear by the statement of the government in this respect. The statement declared that the educated African was now moving towards the front of the stage and must be recruited and trained to share responsibility with the British in the Services.35 The first sign of relaxation as regards non-employment of Africans in responsible positions in the administration was given in 1942 when the Walwyn Commission was appointed to consider the question of admission of Africans to posts other than secretarial posts in the administration service and make recommendations thereon.36 In its report the Committee noted that the Africans’ desire to enter into the Administrative service in Nigeria was an obvious and natural one; that the country had for many years produced its own lawyers, doctors, businessmen, and journalists, and that an African, Dr Henry Carr, had held the post of Commissioner for the Colony and Director of Education and had acted as a Resident in charge of a Province; that Africans had also been appointed to the post of a Secretary and that one of them (McEwen) had been promoted to a higher rank; that the number of Africans appointed as Magistrates was increasing, and that one


(Olumuyiwa Jibowu) had been appointed as an Assistant Judge of the High Court; that Africans represented certain constituencies in the Legislative Council and that an African had been appointed to the Executive Council.37 It observed that the declared policy of the government was to facilitate the appointment of Africans to higher posts in the civil service of the country, but incorrectly stated that such posts were in earlier days held by Europeans owing to the shortage of highly qualified Africans, but that this situation had changed and there were a number of Africans with the requisite qualifications for appointment into the Administrative Branch of the service. It therefore recommended that a few Africans (two to six) be appointed as cadets on experiment subject to the following conditions.38 (a) African candidates for the administrative service should fulfil the same conditions and possess the same qualifications, particularly as regards age and education, as were required of European candidates. (b) African Administrative Officers were to be posted on to Divisions where the Chiefs and people did not object to their posting. (c) That early consideration be given by the Government to make it financially possible for Native Administrations to adopt salary scales comparable with those of the Government and to employ Africans of the highest education when this could be usefully done. The report was accepted by the government and for the first time the door was opened, albeit in a limited way, for Africans to enter into the administrative service. This was indeed a significant change brought about by the war. Now that the door had been opened, the policy of Nigerianization began to be gradually accepted. Africans were now appointed to fill posts left vacant as a result of the call to military service of a number of Europeans. The result was that although in 1939 there were only twenty-six Africans in the senior posts in the service, by 1948 the number had risen to 172.39 The number could have been higher had more qualified Africans, particularly in the professional fields, been available.40 Despite this significant progress, the situation as regards Nigerianization caused dis-satisfaction among politicallyconscious Nigerians. In the senior segment of the service, British


officials still predominated. There were 2,207 of them to 172 Africans.41 But the post-war period had engendered high hopes. It had witnessed a significant political advance. A new Constitution, the Richards Constitution, had been introduced in 1945 and came into operation in 1947. This whetted the desire for a greater share in the civil service and agitation was set in motion to stimulate the government to find ways and means of increasing the pace of Nigerianization. In response to the agitation of Nigerians, the Foot Committee was appointed in 1947 to make recommendations about the recruitment and training of Nigerians for senior posts in the civil service. The Committee did its work with courage and sincerity and made the following recommendations: (i) That the total number of 385 scholarships be given within the three years (1948–51) in the following fields—education and general degree courses (100); engineering (100–145); agriculture (36) and technical courses (127). 30 of these scholarships should be given to women to make it possible for them to obtain qualifications in nursing, secretarial courses and librarianship and 20 to be made available for applicants who did not propose to enter government service. This was to meet the extreme shortage of highly qualified manpower. (ii) That except in cases where suitable Nigerian candidates were already available for promotion within the service, all vacancies in the senior service should be advertised in the official gazette and local press. (iii) No non-Nigerian should be recruited for any government posts except when no suitable and qualified Nigerian was available. (iv) That there should be no discrimination in regard to promotion or in any other respect against non-Nigerians in the service. (v) The selection of candidates for senior posts should be undertaken by an independent body set up for this purpose in which there should be unofficial representation. (vi) The material available in the Junior Service should be annually reviewed with the object of selecting promising young men and women for special training and accelerated promotion. (vii The introduction of the system of training and accelerated ) promotion of younger officers to be selected early in the government service should be to preclude the promotion to senior posts of older men who had rendered long service (and


it was recognised that in some such cases long experience made it possible to dispense with academic qualifications normally required). (vii Facilities for the training of promising officers in the Junior i) Service in Departmental Training Schools should be improved and the standard of instruction in such schools be raised. (ix) Since the material in the Junior ranks of the service available for accelerated promotion must largely depend on the quality of the entrants to the Junior Service, the system should be kept under constant review and improvement made whenever possible. (x) Women should be encouraged to take a larger share in government work. Not only should they be given equal consideration with men for any departmental scholarship or training schemes for which they might possess the necessary educational qualification but they should also be encouraged by special training schemes to qualify for certain other specialists appointments, in which a larger number of skilled women officers was urgently needed. For the execution of these measures, the Committee recommended the setting up of a Central Service Board to be made up of the Civil Service Commission, the Director of Education or his representative, and one unofficial representative of each of the Regional Boards, to serve in rotation for a year at a time. The Board was to be empowered to select candidates from within the government service for promotion to senior posts, and for selection of qualified candidates from outside the service for first appointments, to senior posts. It would also be responsible for selecting candidates from outside the service for scholarships and for schemes to fit them for posts in government, Native Administrations, and voluntary agencies. Finally, it was to be empowered to make recommendations from time to time to improve the system of selection for entry into the Junior Service. Regional and Departmental Boards were also to be set up to review the staffs of the Departments, to make recommendations for consideration by the Public Service Board, for promotion to the Senior Service, and for the selection of Junior officers for training with a view to accelerated promotion. The government tried its best to translate into practice the policy laid down by the committee. But in 1952, Nigerians began to fear


that the policy was not being vigorously pursued. These fears manifested themselves in various ways. For instance, the Western Regional Government adopted a policy known as ‘frigidaire’. This was a financial expedient by which the release of expatriation pay was to be made subject to the express approval of the Regional Executive Council so that the Council could regulate the appointment of expatriates to vacant posts in the Region. Also frequent complaints in the House of Representatives were made of the hesitancy of the government in pursuing the policy of Nigerianization. For example, Chief Enahoro declared that The Civil Service Commission and the Public Service Board are breaking faith with the people of this country…(they) are actively preventing Nigerians from reaching the greatest heights in the Civil Service by superseding them with Europeans.’42 All this apart, a weakness had been detected in the machinery for implementation of the policy of Nigerianization. Under the existing arrangements, the recruitment of expatriates was kept entirely separate from the process of surveying Nigeria first for suitable and qualified men, with the result that expatriates less suitable and qualified than the Nigerians available might be appointed. Moreover, under the existing machinery, Nigerians in Britain were at a disadvantage. Finally, the unqualified application of the policy of Nigerianization was unacceptable to the North because of the relative shortage of suitable and qualified Nigerians of Northern origin and this might turn Nigerianization in that region into Southernization.43 All these complaints led to the appointment of a new commission, the Phillipson/Adebo Commission, to study the process of Nigerianization and review the machinery for carrying it out. In its report, the Commission observed that Nigerianization was a natural and worthy desire, that it aroused deep and widespread interest. And that it was worthwhile to see it not only as an administrative problem but also as a ‘problem of historic importance raising issues of administrative adaptation to profound political change’.44 It noted that between 1948 and 1953 the number of Nigerians in higher posts in the civil service had increased from 245 to 685—an increase of 180 per cent, but that the number of expatriates had also gone up from 2,296 to 2,984 (an increase of thirty per cent).45 This latter increase was due, however, to the need to find staff to carry out development schemes. It observed that over 1,000 vacancies still existed, proving that the handicap to Nigerianization


was not due to the failure to carry out the policy, but to the acute shortage of trained manpower in Nigeria and to the expansion in the service due to the various development programmes. The Commission then proceeded to examine the machinery suggested by the Foot Commission for implementing the programme of Nigerianization, and it then recommended the following:46 (1) That all vacant posts be advertised for Nigerians both at home and abroad and applications received from them be considered before any question of non-Nigerian recruitment was considered at all; (2) that the contract of non-Nigerians should only be renewed if there were no suitable and qualified Nigerians for their posts; (3) that no non-Nigerian in a temporary post be appointed to a permanent post whether on contract or otherwise unless there was no suitable and qualified Nigerian; (4) that, as far as possible, future recruitment of non-Nigerians should be on a contract basis regulated to fit in with the anticipated availability of qualified Nigerians; (5) that every opportunity be taken in obtaining officers from the United Kingdom on secondment as an alternative to contract appointments; (6) that since the Junior Service was the main field of promotion recruitment, the standard of entry into that branch should be constantly reviewed to effect improvement, and that the material available in that branch be continuously reviewed so as to select promising young men and women for training and accelerated promotion; (7) that training schemes be instituted and every effort made to safeguard the source from which qualified Nigerians were drawn (in this respect, the commission advocated all necessary support for the University College of Arts, Science and Technology); (8) that a Directorate and Registry of Students and Overseas Trainees be established; (9) that a Nigerian Civil Service be established; (10 that a high standard be maintained and that promotion within ) the service should be based on merit only.


There is no doubt that the Commission had done its work competently. Its recommendations if implemented would not only have allayed the fears expressed by some Nigerians, but would have ensured that the policy of Nigerianization was being vigorously carried out. Unfortunately, the recommendations were overtaken by a new development. This was the series of political crises which occurred in 1953 and led to the destruction of the 1951 Constitution and the substitution of a new one in 1954. The new Constitution established a federal structure of government for the country and broke up the unified civil service. With the breakup of the civil service, Nigerianization came within the competence of each region as well as that of the centre and this had a significant impact on the policy itself. The Western Region led the way in the prosecution of the policy of Nigerianization. For instance, in October 1954, the date when the new Federal constitution came into operation, that Region took over from the Central Civil Service about 500 expatriate and 300 Nigerian officials,47 but so vigorously did it prosecute the policy that by June 1960 only 411 staff members out of a total establishment of 11,819, that is 3.6 per cent, were expatriates and on 1 October 1960, the day of independence, all the permanent secretariat posts had been Nigerianized. It was therefore in a position to declare that the retention of overseas officers in the posts in the public services was inconsistent with the dignity and interest of an independent Nigeria.48 The same was almost true of the Eastern Region of Nigeria. In 1957, half of the posts in the superscale and scale A combined were occupied by Europeans. By 1960 three-quarters of such posts were filled by Nigerians and about half of the remaining expatriates in this group were on contract.49 However, im portant gaps remained to be filled. For instance the top posts in the civil service with the notable exceptions of those of Chief Secretary and two Permanent Secretaries, were occupied by ex-patriates and about six per cent of the staff in the technical services were This notwithstanding, the progress of expatriates.50 Nigerianization was fairly satisfactory. Two instruments were adopted for achieving rapid Nigerianization by both the Western and Eastern Regional Governments. These were regional scholarships which began in 1952 and were deliberately geared towards producing men to fill vacancies in the public services and the offices of the Directors of


Recruitment. The Director was responsible for carrying out the policy of Nigerianization. He had to certify that there was no suitable Nigerian for a particular post before an expatriate could be appointed. It was also his responsibility to see that as far as possible a Nigerian was trained for each post currently occupied by an expatriate. He was also the Chairman of the Standing Committee on Training which was responsible for the annual assessment of the needs of the Public Service, an annual review of the Departmental Training Scheme, and the giving of advice to the Government and Regional Scholarship Boards on all aspects of training in and for the public service.51 The situation in the Federal Service and the Northern Service stood in contrast to that pointed out above. The former lost some of its most competent Nigerian officials to the Western and Eastern Regions, where the majority of them came from. As a result of this it had to retain in its service a large number of expatriates. Its unwillingness to prosecute the policy of Nigerianization with zest was partly responsible for the loss. By 1960, out of a total of 4,057 officers, 2,308 were Nigerians or other West Africans, 1,749 were expatriates.52 As for the North, it was impossible to practise the policy of Nigerianization because of the acute shortage of trained manpower in that Region. This was the result of Lugard’s policy of Indirect Rule, under which the North was so sheltered against the inroads of Western forces and unwilling to introduce Western education into the Muslim areas (to prevent the undermining of the In-direct Rule system which Northern officials jealously guarded). Even when education was introduced it was limited at first to the children of the rulers and was tied to the Indirect Rule system. The result was that, as Governor Clifford observed in 1920, ‘After two decades of British occupation the Northern Provinces had not yet produced a single native of these Provinces who is sufficiently educated to enable him to fill the most minor clerical post in the Office of any Government Department’.53 To realise the needed manpower, an Institute of Administration was established at Zaria in 1957. In 1959 the Northernization Implementation Committee was established, but its achievements lay in the driving away of many Southerners from the Northern Service and replacing them with Northerners with inferior education and experience. The result was a fall in the level of efficiency. Thus as late as 1961, a year after independence, the Northerners occupied only twenty-eight per cent of the


administrative posts, twenty-five per cent of the executive posts in their regional administration, less than twenty per cent in the technical supervisory establishment, and five per cent of professional posts, and this was achieved by a lowering of standards and a decline in efficiency.54 The history of the civil service, particularly as regards the use of Nigerian personnel and its involvement in the general welfare and social betterment of Nigerians is then essentially a study of the reactions of imperial government to changing situations. In the period before the aggressive imperialism of the nineteenth century, the British administration’s main aim was to maintain law and order under which trade could thrive. At this time it was not averse to the appointment of Africans into responsible posts in the administration. The very fact that the anti-imperial movement made Britain’s future in Nigeria and in West Africa as a whole a doubtful one at this period, the heavy claim of Euro pean lives by diseases such as malaria, dysentery, and yellow fever, and the desire to run as cheap an administration as possible made this policy attractive. From the 1880s, when imperialism was in full swing and British interest in Nigeria had changed from being mainly humanitarian and commercial to one of colonial conquest and acquisition and the exploitation of the economic resources of the country, a noticeable change, particularly in the employment of Africans in responsible posts in the administration, became discernible. This contrast was highlighted by the Lagos Weekly Record when it printed: Under the administration of Sir John Hawley Glover and his immediate successors no such discrimination existed, and natives were appointed to the posts of District Commissioner, Assistant Colonial Secretary, Assistant Treasurer, while several elderly natives of prominence were made Justices of the Peace. However, under the impulse of the same paradoxical symptom which characterizes the system of government, the tendency has been to utilize the native less in proportion as he has become more capable for such utilization.55 As regards the function or role of the administration there was little or no change. It was still designed essentially for maintaining the status quo. Although it built the infrastructure of roads and


railways, these were designed to maximize trade for the British companies operating in the area and to facilitate administration. It is true that Nigerians came to benefit from this but this was inevitable since this trade could not be a one-way traffic. The important thing was that it was not designed for their interest but for the interest of the ruling power. The advantage they derived from it was minimal. This policy and the policy of racial discrimination permeated the civil service until after the Second World War when, as a result of the forces un-leashed by the war, decolonization became acceptable, and with decolonization came the policy of involvement of Africans in the task of administration and of catering for their general welfare by introducing a number of development schemes. Thus the history of the civil service in the colonial period was essentially a study of imperial reactions to changing circumstances. It demonstrated very clearly the flexibility in British policy and their ability to trim their sails to the winds of change. NOTES 1. See T.Witht, The life of Sir Richard Burton’, cited in A.C.Burns, The History of Nigeria, London, 1963, p.152. 2. C.Fyfe, A History of Sierra Leone, London, 1962, p.296. 3. For a biography of Otunba Payne, see L.C.Gwam, Great Nigerians, Lagos, 1967; see also G. Olusanya’s biography of him in African Encyclopedia, London, forthcoming. 4. J.Kopytoff, Preface to Modern Nigeria, Wisconsin, 1965, pp.207–9. 5. For the life of Henry Carr, see Gwam, op. cit., also C.O.Taiwo, ‘Henry Carr: an African contribution to Education’, PhD thesis, University of London, 1970. 6. L.C.Gwam, ‘Dr Henry Rawlinson Carr’, Ibadan, (November 1963), p. 6. 7. Taiwo, op. cit, 8. E.A.Ayandele, ‘An assessment of Bishop James Johnson and his place in Nigerian history’, Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria. 9. D.Kimble, A Political History of Ghana, 1850–1928, Oxford, 1963, p. 67. 10. Sir Alan Burns, Colonial Civil Servant, London, 1949, see chapter en-titled The Colonial Office’. 11. A.J.N.Tremearne, Niger and the West Sudan, London, 1900, p.75.


12. See Sir Frederick Lugard, The Dual Mandate in British Tropical Africa, Edinburgh, 1922, pp.81–116; Kimble, op. cit., p.94. 13. Governor Griffith (Administrator-General of the British West African Settlements) to the Earl of Derby, Secretary of State, 30/6/ 1885, CO 96/116; No 13638. 14. CO 520/87, Memorandum by C.Strately, 10/12/1909. 15. CO 96/390, December 1901: Report of the Committee on Amalgamation of the Medical Services in the West African Colonies. 16. CO 96/313, Despatch No 112, 15/3/1898. 17. Lugard, The Dual Mandate in Tropical Africa. 18. Nigerian Pamphlets (Reports Vol No 6, p.87). 19. I.F.Nicholson, The Administration of Nigeria 1900–1960, Oxford, 1969, pp.214–16. 20. Sir Charles Jefferes, The Colonial Empire and Its Civil Service, Cambridge, 1938, p.17. 21. For instance, in 1906 the death rate for Europeans in West Africa was 20.6 per 1,000; by 1924, it had fallen to 12.8 per 1,000; in 1929 the rate fell further to 7.7 per 1,000, and by 1935, it was 5.1 per thousand people. Ibid. 22. J.J.Marinho, ‘The Public Service: its changing concept and character’, Administration, 2,2 (January 1968). 23. Annual Report, Department of Education. 1938, p.1. 24. Ten-Year Educational Plan, Nigerian Sessional Paper, No 6/1944, pp. 28–31. 25. Rita Hinden, Empire and After: A Study of British Imperial Attitudes, Essential Books Ltd., 1949, p.138. 26. See W.M.MacMillan, Warning from the West Indies, 1936, p.208. 27. West India Royal Commission Report, 1938–1939, Cmd. 6607, p. 34. 28. Ibid., pp.139–40. 29. Statement of Policy on Colonial Development and Welfare Act, 1940, Cmd. 6175, p.4. 30. For greater detail, see G.O.Olusanya, ‘The impact of the Second World War on Nigeria’s political evolution’, PhD thesis, University of Toronto, 1964, chapter 3. 31. A.P.Thornton, The Imperial Idea and Its Enemies, London, 1959, p. 327. 32. Ibid., p.329. 33. Daily Herald, 16 August, 1941. 34. See International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, The Economy of Nigeria, November, 1961, pp.18–19. 35. Post-War Training for the Colonial Service, 1946, appendix, p.20.


36. See Report of the Committee Appointed by the Governor of Nigeria to Consider the Question of Admission of Africans to other than Secretarial Posts in the Administrative Service, Lagos, 1942. 37. This was Sir Adeyemo Alakija. 38. See Walwyn Commission, op. cit. 39. See Report of the Commission appointed by His Excellency the Governor to make Recommendations about the Recruitment and Training of Nigerians for Senior Posts in the Government Service of Nigeria, Lagos, 1948, p.12. Sir Hugh Foot was the Chairman. 40. Legislative Council Debates, 9 March 1948, p.12. 41. Foot Commission Report. 42. House of Representatives Debates, Second Session, vol. 1, March 1953, p.468. 43. Federal Government of Nigeria. The Nigerianization of the Civil Service: A Review of Policy and Machinery, Lagos, 1953. 44. Ibid. 45. Ibid. 46. Ibid. 47. Nigerianization of the Public Service of Western Nigeria, Government Printer, 1960, p.2. 48. A.Adedeji, ‘Federal and State Civil Services’, Quarterly Journal of Administration, 1 (October, 1970). 49. Dr J.D.Kingsley, Staff Development, Eastern Nigeria Public Service, Enugu, 1961, p.4. 50. Ibid. 51. Ibid. 52. Legislative Council Debates, 19 December 1970, p.196. Matters Arising from the Final Report of the Parliamentary Committee on the Nigerianization of the Federal Public Service, Statement of Policy by the Government of the Federation, Session Paper No 2, 1960. 53. Governor Clifford’s address to the Nigerian Council in 1920. 54. Staffing and Development of the Public Service of Northern Nigeria, Kaduna, January 1961. 55. Lagos Weekly Record, 8 July 1899.

10 The British Navy and ‘Southern Nigeria’ in the Nineteenth Century1 Paul M.Mbaeyi

During the nineteenth century, British naval vessels of various types, the official navy, and mercantile marine, played a significant and varied role in the history of the southern parts of what was to become Nigeria. Many of the contacts between Great Britain and this area were made possible by naval ships. Much of the trade between peoples of the two countries was conducted by mercantile vessels which were sometimes protected by the British African squadron. European explorers, consuls, administrators, governors, and missionaries who went from Britain to what became Southern Nigeria were conveyed by British naval vessels in most cases. The lack of such transportation would have caused great difficulties for the personnel involved, and might have altered the history of Southern Nigeria in the nineteenth century. The Europeans as well as the traders who went to the coast expected support and protection while doing their work and in their relations with the African chiefs, rulers, and peoples. The British gave much of such cover and protection. In crises and times of difficulty, warships were frequently called in by the Europeans involved. In case of outright war, armed cruisers and vessels were generally deployed to blockade the coasts and to support the land forces. This foreign interference in the affairs of the indigenous states and state-systems of Southern Nigeria began the process of corroding established indigenous rule and authority in the areas of Bonny, Lagos, Calabar, Warri, and Benin. Through this process of interference, the British ex panded their area of influence and more and more of this area was incorporated into the wider empire which Britain slowly won during the nineteenth century. The role of the British navy was thus important in many ways at this time in the region.


From the 1820s onward, the ‘Southern Nigeria’ that we have defined was part of the ‘Bight’s Division’ of what the British termed the ‘West (or Western) Coast of Africa Naval Station’. That Division, as later defined in 1865, extended ‘from Cape Palmas to Cape Lopez, including the islands of Fernando Po, Princess, St Thomas, and Anno (Annabon)’.2 The ‘Southern Nigeria’ portion of the ‘Division’ extended along the coast, roughly from the area just west of Badagry on the Western Slave Coast to the Cameroons area in the east, and included the offshore island of Fernando Po. The great rivers that emptied into the Southern Nigerian section of the west coast of Africa were the Weme River in the west, the Ogun River, the Ethiope River, the Niger and its numerous tributaries, and the Cross River in the east. They were all navigable by boat or small craft for some distance. These river banks, the coast, and the immediately adjoining land areas within range of the guns of the boats and warships were the places that were affected by the coming of British naval vessels into the region. Coal (for fuel) and supplies were frequently taken when the vessels left their home ports, or when they called at Freetown, Sierra Leone, a major natural harbour on the west coast of Africa which the British used extensively during the nineteenth century. The British government’s takeover of the humanitarian establishment for freed slaves, begun in that promontory in 1787, had taken place in 1807, and the British retained it throughout the nineteenth century, thus ensuring the security of the fuel and supplies from there. Nearer the coast of Southern Nigeria was Fernando Po, a strategically located island that became a major naval station. The British opened a settlement there in 1827 with an expedition commanded by Captain W.F. W.Owen, RN, of HMS Eden. With a complement of officers and men, he sailed from Plymouth in July, passed through Freetown, and arrived at Clarence Cove, Fernando Po, in November. By early 1828, the settlement consisted of about 220 men, eighty-five of whom were soldiers doing garrison duties.3 More soldiers and a few traders arrived, one of whom was the celebrated John Beecroft, an adventurer trader, who went there in 1829. Captain Edward Nicholls succeeded Owen as the Superintendent of the Fernando Po colony in April 1829, and by 1830, while acting as Superintendent, Beecroft set up the naval stores on the island.4 When the official settlement was broken up

BRITISH NAVY AND ‘SOUTHERN NIGERIA’ IN 19TH CENTURY 203

in 1835, and then withdrawn, because of the British disputes with the Spaniards over proprietary rights to the island, Beecroft and some of the other merchants stayed. Beecroft kept control of the naval stores. New British moves to acquire the island in 1839 and in the early 1840s did not yield fruit but British vessels and merchantmen continued to stop there, obtaining supplies and fuel to facilitate their operations on the adjoining coast of the Oil Rivers and the Cameroons. When John Beecroft was appointed British Consul in the Bights of Benin and Biafra in 1849,5 he was stationed on Fernando Po, and British naval warships called there regularly from that time onward. Naval necessities, therefore, had to be kept up so as to serve all of the Bights Division, and the influence that British naval power, along with Consulate Diplomacy, gradually won over the coast of what became Southern Nigeria arose chiefly from the operations mounted from the Fernando Po base. British naval ships also occasionally used St Helena and Ascension Islands, located in the Atlantic Ocean just south of the Southern Nigeria coast. Barracks, a hospital, and a farm that cultivated up to thirty acres of land were set up on the latter for supplies by 1859. Coal for steam vessels was also kept on them and supplied to needy warships and merchantmen, with Ascension taking the upper hand as the principal of the two islands as time went on. Sick officers and men also went to St Helena and Ascension to recover from illness. From the early 1860s, chiefly after the cession of August 1861, the British established a coal depot at Lagos with colonial lagoon warships available for use as required by the incoming European power and the administrators they sent. The above practical arrangements for bases, coal and fuel supplies, for necessities of food, water, and medicine, and for health when impaired, helped and facilitated the operations and use of the British navy on the coast in the nineteenth century. With continual mobility up and down the entire length of the West Coast of Africa naval station and into the rivers as well (when chasing slavers, called to ‘trouble-spots’ or escorting merchantmen up and/or downstream, along the rivers), it is difficult to say exactly how many vessels were on the Southern Nigerian section of the coast from time to time. But two or three of the six or seven vessels of the African squadron on the coast by the 1820s would probably have been in that area, reinforced by


emergency call-ups when necessary. By 1841, when Dr R.R. Madden inquired into the state of the British West African possessions, eleven British warships were on the naval coast from Sierra Leone to Luanda, and four more were added afterwards. On average, this would give about half of these eleven, later fifteen, vessels for the Southern Nigerian coast of the time; also, about half of the 1,000 seamen then in the command there, under Captain Tucker, RN. The thirteen to twenty cruisers in the African squadron by the early 1860s6 would keep about the same number as before on the Southern Nigerian section. The end of the slave trade by the sixties led the British to rethink the naval provisions they had made for the West African station as a whole, but by the 1890s, inventories of names of the cruisers and warships that were deployed in various British expeditions such as those against Chief Nana Olomu of the Itsekiri (1894), and against Oba Ovonramwen (Overami) of Benin (1897), showed that the British still had at least three and sometimes up to six or seven warships for use on the Southern Nigerian section of the African naval station.7 There were also small boats and tenders to give support. In times of extreme need, naval help could be sent for from Freetown and/or from Luanda to reinforce what could be called in from Fernando Po, Ascension, and St Helena. Armed merchantmen also sometimes helped the regular squadron in en-counters against the Africans. THE ROLE OF THE WARSHIPS As already noted, the multifarious duties of the British naval forces during the nineteenth century along the coast under consideration included conveying and supporting explorers and explorations to the area, combating the slave trade, protecting British legal trade, bombarding African coasts and riverain states whilst protecting British legal trade and interests, and hence developing British formal influence, then formal control, and protecting and supporting European missionaries and administrators. In British military expeditions against Africans, British warships and naval personnel generally gave support and conveyance to troops. The European explorations to the southern parts of Nigeria which were conveyed from Europe to the coast and given naval support in the nineteenth century included those of Mungo Park: his first expedition to West Africa had been in 1795–7 but it was his


second expedition that reached the Niger River in the southern parts of Nigeria. He died at the rapids of Bussa in 1805.8 In 1830– 1, there was the journey of the brothers Richard and John Lander. The brig Albert took them from Plymouth on 9 January 1830 to Badagry which they reached on 19 March. They then journeyed overland to Bussa to make their historic journey down the Niger River to become the first Europeans to find the Nun where the great Niger empties itself into the sea.9 In 1832–4, the Liverpool merchant, Macgregor Laird, andR. A.K.Oldfield, made their own voyage of exploration to the Niger River in British ships, the Quorrah and Alburkah.10 In 1841, there was the mission to the Niger, supported by the Church Missionary Society and the humanitarians, as well as by some commercial interests. British naval vessels played a prominent part in the venture but it eventually proved a failure. In 1854, there then followed the successful expedition led by Dr William Balfour Baikie: various boats and naval vessels were again in use. Quinine was used as a prophylactic to ward off ‘African’ fever and malaria so that not one of the twelve Europeans and fifty-four others on the expedition died.11 The voyage was a feat, and signalled a breakthrough for the prospects of European trade and Christian and other activities in the area. Another voyage of 1857 with which the Reverend (afterwards, Bishop) Ajayi Crowther was associated set up a Christian Missionary Society station at Onitsha. Similar naval conveyances had helped the Reverend Thomas Birch Freeman of the Wesleyan Missionary Society to set up a post at Badagry in 1842. There then followed other missionary posts at Lagos, Abeokuta, Bonny, Calabar, and as far as Aboh and Lokoja, along the Niger. The role of the British vessels that were involved in the explorations and other enterprises, both the official navy and the other ships, is often neglected or taken for granted and we have stressed this factor here because it was important and ought to receive mention. When the explorations ended in a formal sense by the late 1850s, trade contacts which had been there before took over, and with this came, in a bigger way, the problem of the protection of British persons and enterprise along the coastlands and riverain basins of the southern parts of Nigeria which now became the predominant concern. The legal trades that grew in pepper, ivory, cottons, shea butter, palm oil and kernels, and similar wares, were significant and their protection, by the British navy on the coast,


caused new relationships between the Africans and the Europeans in Southern Nigeria. But the slave trade was first in the early nineteenth century, and the way that the British warships came to be used against it will be looked at before we return to the legal trade, its needs, and what flowed from it. The British Navy against the Slave Trade The slave trade along and from the Southern Nigerian coast to the United States of America, the West Indies, and Latin America was strong from the early nineteenth century to the 1860s. Exports from all Africa of this chattel were about 85,000 yearly for 1825 to 1830; 135,000 yearly (peak) for 1835 to 1840. Then it began to diminish: 64,000 in 1840; 36,785 in 1845 (a ‘low’ period); and 84, 356 in 1847.12 Another account says that Brazil, Cuba, and the United States of America took about 150,000 slaves annually from Africa in the peak period of the 1830s,13 before the trade began to diminish from the 1840s. Shipment continued into the 1850s but by 1861–5, only the canoes were still engaged in the slave trade from West Africa. A sizeable proportion of the above trade arose or originated from the Southern Nigerian coast of West Africa, and it was this that the British navy in the area tried to combat after 1807 when the British abolished the slave trade. ‘During the nine months from October 1820 to July 1821’, for example, ‘190 cargoes of slaves were taken out of the River Bonny and 163 out of the Old Calabar’.14 In 1822, Captain John Adams who had visited West Africa at various points between 1786 and 1800, wrote that Bonny was a ‘wholesale market for slaves’, exporting at least 20,000 people annually. Of these, some 16,000 were thought to be ‘Heebo’ (Ibo or Igbo). The exports, from here, of the twenty years prior to the account, were thus estimated at no less than 320,000. ‘Heebo’ people sold ‘at New and Old Calabar, probably amounted in the same period to 50,000 more, making an aggregate of 370, 000 Heebos’. Others of the exports were though to be ‘natives of the Brass country, called Allakoos and also Ibbibbys [Ibibios] and Quaws [probably Kwa Ibos]’.15 Adams also reported that, ‘Fairs where the slaves of the Heebo nation are obtained, are held every five or six weeks at several villages, which are situated on the banks of the rivers and creeks in the interior, and to which the traders of Bonny resort to purchase them’.16 Macgregor Laird, who explored


the Niger Basin (1832–4), said that the slaves exported from the Delta between 1827 and 1834 were at least 200,000 in number. The price of slaves also remained at a tempting figure for a long time, rising from $350 dollars in 1840, to $360 dollars in 1850, and to $500 dollars in 1860.17 Some of the revenue that supported most of the rulers and states of the Niger Delta area in fact came from their participation in the slave trade. Further to the west and still along the Southern Nigerian coast and its immediate vicinity, ‘Slaves of the Housa (Hausa) nation… (were) brought to Ardrah by the Hio traders and then sold, either to European or black traders, belonging to Lagos and Badagry’.18 The Owu Wars of the 1820s also supplied plenty of Yoruba slaves for export. And the thriving trade in the area was shown by the fact that by early 1851, the British cruiser HMS Jackal was intercepting a vessel with 270 slaves off Ijebu and, with another warship, the Centaur, halted another slaver with 267 slaves on board in the vicinity of Lagos.19 British action against the slave trade took a number of forms. There was the campaign of the humanitarians of the ‘Clapham Sect’ against it; and then the Parliamentary Act of Abolition followed in 1807. Great Britain then tried to persuade other countries of Europe, by treaties, to abolish the trade and to repress it along the West African coast. In 1817, 1818, 1819, in the 1820s, and then in 1835, 1845, and 1862, Britain engaged Spain, Portugal, Holland, France, and the United States of America in various pacts of abolition, granting reciprocal rights of search and capture, in some cases, between the contracting nations.20 From the 1830s too, Britain tried to engage African rulers and states of the Niger Delta and the rest of the West African coast in similar treaties. Procuring these and enforcing them were frequently facilitated by the display and use of naval force. British informal, then formal, influence over the involved African states and peoples often arose from these engagements and contracts, and specific examples will be gone into below. The British navy also policed the coast in the years following the abolition of the trade, and tried to stamp it out by capturing, detaining, and intercepting slavers. The British African squadron which acted against the slave trade along the Southern Nigerian (and the rest of the West African) coast arose from the two warships that were sent to the coast in 1808 to implement the Act of Abolition, the frigate Soleby under Commander E.H.Columbine (thirty-two guns), and the sloop


Derwent under Lieutenant E.Parker (eighteen guns).21 By 1819, Commodore Sir George Collier, commanding the West coast naval station, had six warships under his charge.22 The numbers stayed at six or seven throughout the 1820s to 1832. Some idea of the numbers afterwards has been given. The French and the Americans kept small squadrons from time to time on the coast but the main work of suppressing the slave trade seems to have been done by the British vessels. Along the Southern Nigerian coast, as defined already, the boats of HMS Iphigenia and Myrmidon frequently went into the river mouths of the big slave marts of Old and New Calabar, and the rest of the Oil Rivers, from 1820 to 1824. In the area, as far as the Cameroons, they caught seven slavers between April 1823 and May 1824.23 Armed slavers impeded policing: for example, the Swinger warship intercepted four slavers off Lagos on 9 February 1825, but was forced off by their firing.24 Still, some captures were made in the late 1820s, and British naval vigilance was, apart from the places already mentioned, kept up at Badagry, the Benin River area, and Bonny. Many of the cases, fifty-two by 1824 and 528 by 1845, which went before the Mixed Commission Court that tried slavers at Freetown, Sierra Leone, certainly originated from captures along the Southern Nigerian coastal area. Some men liberated at Sierra Leone by the Courts settled there; others were enlisted into the West India Regiments to garrison British colonies in the West Indies and West Africa. British naval action against the slave trade in the area under consideration was kept and stepped up in the 1830s, 1840s, and the 1850s. In January 1836, armed with the new “Equipment Treaty’ that Britain had just signed with Spain in 1835, Lieutenant Tryon of HMS Trinculo ‘entered the port of Bonny and seized four Spanish ships waiting to embark slaves for the New World’.25 This afterwards caused trouble with that indigenous state and its ruler, Anna Pepple. But in December 1842, the Calabar people were themselves sending over a canoe to Commodore Raymond of the navy at Fernando Po warning him of the presence of French slavers and warships in their river. Shortly afterwards, HM Brig Rapid, following information received from the chief of Bimbia to John Beecroft, then still a trader at Fernando Po, took a slaver in that area adjoining the Cameroons.26 Other cases of slaving in the area which were investigated by British warships in 1845 proved to be false. But these naval measures


reinforced and supported the treaties which the British naval officers were now signing with the chiefs of Bonny, Old and New Calabar, and Bimbia. Early in 1851, as already noted, HMS Jackal liberated 270 slaves off Ijebu; and that warship, with the Centaur, soon after also intercepted a vessel with 267 slaves on board in the vicinity of Lagos.27 A report of March 1851 gave the impression that this illegal trade in this area had been stopped when Captain Adams of HMS Gladiator wrote that: the [Slave] Traffic from Cape St Paul to Lagos is nearly at an end; that within the last two months 135 slaves were marched down from Abeokuta to Lagos for sale to the slave merchants but they were unable to find a purchaser. Five of them were afterwards sold as domestic slaves, the rest were marched back into the interior.28 The trade might indeed have been in abeyance at this time in the normal sense but the fright to buyers arising from the presence, vigilance, and action of the British squadron on the coast might have been a contributory factor towards the state of affairs narrated. In September 1851, however, the British government at home decided on coercive measures against Lagos, issued instructions for the same, and gave the slave trade in the area as a principal cause of the projected attack. The naval bombardments took place in November and December 1851, and British informal sway was planted there. The threat of another bombardment in August 1861 transformed the informal hold into an outright annexation. But these episodes are looked at below along with the rest of the British intervention in African politics, and interference with African rulers and states, which slowly eroded indigenous control and sovereignty and gradually led to the establishment of a British coionial empire over Southern Nigeria. The British concern to act against the inhuman slave trade was however always a factor of importance; and by the mid-1860s, it could be said that the trade had been stamped out of Southern Nigeria (and West Africa) leaving only internal slavery, for some time.


The Navy and the Development of British Influence and Control As suggested above, some of the action that the British naval forces took against the slave trade in Southern Nigeria involved or led to British interference with the control of the African states they came in contact with. There were also the missionaries and the legal trade which the British officers on the coast wanted to protect. Of the latter, the palm oil trade from the Oil Rivers of the Niger Delta to Liverpool was about 150 tons in 1806; over 3,000 tons in 1819; and about 13,600 tons in 1839.29 The 25,000 tons exported in 1845 was a peak, worth $750,000 at £34 a ton. By 1871, the palm oil exports were still between 25,000 and 30,000 tons a year at between £34 and £44 per ton, the trade to Liverpool involving about five vessels sailing every month from there.30 The trade kept growing. 3,250 tons of palm oil were exported from the Lagos area in 1857. Palm kernels followed in 1865, and the same from Old Calabar in 1869. Cotton, beniseed, ivory, pepper and so on were similarly exported. The imports included beads, gin, mirrors, finished cotton fabrics, guns, muskets and flints. Exports from the Lagos area were worth £515,365 in 1870, and imports were worth £400,558.31 In 1895, towards the close of the nineteenth century, 12,800 tons of palm oil left from Lagos colony, and 46,000 tons of palm kernels; in 1902, 17,500 tons of palm oil and 75,000 tons of palm kernels, worth £1,153,891.32 The trade in the other items and throughout the coast, as far as the Oil Rivers, had also continued substantial. The protection of the above legal trade and of the British personnel engaged in it lay principally with the British naval forces on the coast, before the establishment of formal British posts and control. The naval officers operated chiefly on their own initiative when called upon by the traders, to start with. When John Beecroft was appointed the British Consul for the Bights of Benin and Biafra in 1849, the naval officers and warships worked with him, and then with the other consuls that followed him in the area. The unofficial alliance between the British naval factor on the coast and the merchants arose at this time and stayed for much of the nineteenth century in the southern parts of Nigeria. Afterwards, a similar alliance between the navy and the administrators or governors that came to the annexed parts of the area developed.


The effects of the intervention of the British navy on the coast were evident from the 1830s. When in January 1836, Lieutenant Tryon and HMS Trinculo entered Bonny and seized four Spanish vessels waiting to ship slaves, Anna Pepple (Alali), the regent of Bonny at that time, interpreted it as an interference in the affairs of his city-state. At a conference, which became heated, he caused Tryon, other naval officers, and British super-cargoes, and men present, to be detained and imprisoned. Forces of the British naval squadron on the coast were immediately called in so that Anna Pepple released the prisoners and agreed to sign a treaty to avoid such outrages in the future. Following another complaint by a Mr Ralph Dawson of the British palm oil ship, the Havannah Packet, Rear Admiral Sir Patrick Campbell of the West Coast Station sent Commander Craigie to Bonny in March 1837; the result was that Anna Pepple was overthrown and one William Dappa Pepple was installed as the new King of Bonny in his place. A new treaty to regulate trade was then forced on the new ruler.33 William Dappa Pepple virtually became the prisoner of the forces that had put him in power. When John Beecroft became the British Consul in the Bights of Benin and Biafra in 1849, his power backed that of the navy in the Bonny area, and the navy his. King Pepple also faced internal slave revolts inside Bonny, as well as the hostility of the old supporters of Anna Pepple. When he was suspected of wanting to assert new independence for himself and for his state, to obtain more control over commerce, and to adopt anti-British measures, he was deposed and exiled in 1854. A new man, Prince Dappo, who was more accommodating to British interests, was elected King.34 British naval power in the area was always in the background throughout these changes. Further to the west, the British decided to take active measures against Lagos (and Dahomey) late in 1851. They wanted to suppress the slave trade in the vicinity, as already mentioned; they also wanted to protect growing British commerce in cotton and palm oil from that area. Missionaries newly planted in posts at Badagry and Abeokuta who claimed British protection, pressed for action against Lagos. Additionally, the British government in London and the Consulate on the coast wanted to assist the exiled King Akitoye, then residing at Badagry, to regain the Lagos throne from his kinsman, Kosoko,35 who had made war and taken it from him in 1845. The British action was largely naval. Consul Beecroft and Akitoye were taken to Lagos waters on 13 November 1851 in


HMS Bloodhound. Commander Wilmot arrived there in the Harlequin; and also present was HMS Waterwitch. Kosoko refused to sign a treaty presented to him on 20 November so an attack was ordered on 25 November by all the warships and boats present, along with the marines they carried. Kosoko’s war-canoes and marksmen on shore beat back the expedition. The British used twenty-three boats, five guns, twenty-five officers, 188 seamen and fifty-three marines; and their casualties included two officers killed and ten men wounded.36 A new expedition was prepared for December. Captain James arrived with HMS Sampson to reinforce the Bloodhound, the Teazer, the Penelope, the Waterwitch, and the Volcano. There was fighting and firing on the island on the 24th, 26th, and 27th. Many Lagosians, at least eighty to ninety, were killed or wounded. The British lost fifteen killed and seventy-five wounded. Kosoko’s ammunition dump was blown up during the operations and his resistance collapsed. He fled Lagos and Akitoye was escorted ashore and reinstated as Oba or King. Akitoye then signed a treaty with the British on 1 January 1852, against the slave trade and human sacrifice, and granting freedom and protection to missionaries and legal trade.37 The effects of the above attacks and of the treaty signed were to implant British informal control in Lagos. A consulate was set up and during the 1850s at least one British warship was in the lagoons, used as far as Badagry and Epe, maintaining the influence won. In August 1861, the threat of the new bombardments by Commander N.B.Bedingfeld of HMS Prometheus forced the Oba of that time, Docemo (Dosunmu) to cede the island outright to Britain as a colony.38 Two colonial gunboats were retained by the Lagos government in the early sixties, used to police the waters around, particularly as new posts were annexed at Badagry, Palma and Lekki. HMS Handy and the steamer Eyo Honesty co-operated with the land forces and rockets of Lagos colony in attacking Ikorodu to expel the Egba army from there in March 1865.39 The action at once protected and expanded the British foothold at that section of the Southern Nigerian seaboard. When the people of Lagos grew restive about British rule, and the Egba and the Ijebu tried to blockade the roads and supplies to the colony in the early 1870s, and so starve the Europeans out of the place, the British Governors and officials on the coast


frequently called in gunboat reinforcements from Fernando Po to strengthen their hands. Governor (afterwards, Sir) John Hawley Glover applied for the Pioneer in May 1872.40 HMS Coquette went to Lagos waters in December and the Eko was used for diplomatic journeys to Palma, Lekki, and Atigere.41 Administrator George Berkeley again requested the Pioneer early in 1873 and HMS Bittern arrived as well.42 Naval reinforcements of this type were asked for whenever a crisis loomed. In 1892, the warships were again on the coast whilst the British expedition that broke the power of the Ijebu was launched. Looking to the east of Lagos once more, British trading activity inland from the coast along the Niger River had caused the hostility of the middle-men states of the Niger Delta. These Africans attacked British vessels going up stream. The Macgregor Laird and R.A.K.Oldfield expedition of 1832–4 had had some of the party fired on at Abonta in October 1832. Between 1857 and 1860, three of Laird’s vessels trading to the inland posts set up at Onitsha, Aboh, and Idah (Lokoja) were similarly attacked by the people of Sabrogrega, Angiama, and Hippoteama. Breaking this opposition and barrier to trade formed part of the work of naval expeditions despatched to punish the Africans. And Lord Palmerston and the rest of the Foreign Office under him, in minutes of 1860, approved of such strong measures in aid of free passage for British trade.43 Naval escorts for annual trading flotillas of Liverpool vessels were also provided into the late 1860s to off-set or deal with the Africans’ hostility. In 1879, HMS Pioneer bombarded Onitsha before the Royal Niger Company of Sir George Goldie removed its establish ments for the town following the hostility of the people. In 1882, HMS Flirt destroyed Asaba; in 1883, a small naval force attacked Idah and Aboh in punishment for various ‘outrages’; whilst in 1886, a naval force attacked some villages in the Niger Delta. Naval actions of this type were thought to help and to protect trade and traders in the area.44 Ja Ja and after When Ja Ja rose in the 1860s and migrated from Bonny to found the new post of Opobo in 1869–71, this overturned the balance in the politics of that area. A civil war ensued and the British Consul, Charles Livingstone (after him, the Acting Consul David Hopkins)


often went with naval warships into the affected rivers to exert influence on the situation. A treaty of settlement forced on Ja Ja in 1871 came after Commander Jones had blockaded Ja Ja’s coast with HMS Pert, in August 1870.45 As Ja Ja remained strong, however, the British officers acted more strongly against him, again with naval help. HMS Goshawk was at hand in October 1887; acting Consul (afterwards, Sir) Harry Johnston invited Ja Ja on board and arrested him. He was deported to the Gold Coast, and then to the West Indies, where he died in 1891.46 Thus, the British obtained control of Opobo, and the coastal delta that had been under its influence. The missionaries in the area were thought to have had a hand in this affair, and to have worked together with the consular and naval officials against Ja Ja.47 The British expeditions against the Africans in the Southern Nigerian area in the 1890s also saw naval forces prominently in use. In 1894, the action to dislodge Nana Olomu from his position of power in Itsekiriland was mounted with HMS Phoebe from Luanda, HMS Alecto from New Calabar, HMS Philomel, HMS Widgeon, and other boats and vessels, together with the marines. Overwhelmed, Ebrohimi in the area fell in August of that year.48 British treaties that followed with the Sapele, Itsekiri, Urhobo (and later New Calabar) peoples were facilitated by the naval presence. In January 1895, there was the ‘Akassa Raid’ in which the people of Nembe-Brass under King Frederick William Koko, of Bassambiri, tried to destroy the establishments of the Royal Niger Company of Sir George Goldie, which had tended to destroy their own middle-man business. The British reply to the raid was a naval expedition under Rear-Admiral Bedford in February 1895. Twon, Fish Town (Okpoma), and Nembe were bombarded on the 24th/25th and occupied.49 When Benin-British contacts reached a crisis early in 1897 with disputes over Benin’s keeping of trade treaties and with the Benin massacre of J.R. Philips and a party he was leading to the ancient city on 4 January, a British expedition was determined upon. The warships HMS St George, Phoebe, Philomel, Barrosa, Widgeon, Alecto, and Magpie were called in, also HMS Theseus and the Forte, from the Mediterranean. A hospital ship, HMS Malacca, was expected with British marines. Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton came out from England to direct operations, and Rear-Admiral Harry H.Rawson arrived on 30 January to take charge of the overall command. The advance on Benin began on 11 February, and it


was quickly overrun. Oba Ovonramwen fled with his Court and officials and a British Resident was appointed in the place.50 Small British encounters followed in the Cross River area before the British expedition against the Aros in 1902: in this last, land forces were used mainly but fifty-four officers, blue-jackets, and marines of HMS Thrush lying off Brass at the time were said to have given aid to the three columns that converged on Bende, one of the nodal points used in the rush on Aro (or Arochukwu).51 CONCLUSION The British naval forces that were along, or came to, the coast of what later became known as ‘Southern Nigeria’ were thus a factor of great importance in the history of the area during the nineteenth century. Organized and formed in the region as mentioned at the beginning, the forces suppressed the slave trade, and protected British enterprise and personnel, also carrying many to and fro between the metropolis and the coast when they travelled. In crises involving British persons and interests, in disputes over trade, and in collecting mercantile debts, the naval forces were always at hand. Sometimes they were deployed in engagements or bombardments alone, at other times along with the land forces, but most times, they were used or called in. The various actions involving them and their interferences with African rulers, politics, and states led to the gradual building up of British influence in the region, with out-right colonial control and occupation following and growing in a piecemeal fashion from Lagos in 1861 and then spreading to the rest of the area. Along with the actions of energetic soldiers, consuls, administrators, missionaries, and traders, the British Colony and Protectorate of Southern Nigeria which came by the beginning of the twentieth century owed much to the work done and the pressures exerted by and with the British naval officers and forces in the area in the course of the nineteenth century. NOTES 1. The ‘Southern Nigeria’ that is referred to in this paper is the modern usage and understanding of that term, that is, the southern parts of modern Nigeria. In the nineteenth century, the name ‘Southern


2.

3. 4.

5. 6. 7.

8. 9. 10.

11.

12. 13. 14. 15.

Nigeria’ was not used; and what was so called first came into being in 1900. The Protectorate of Southern Nigeria then extended from east of Lagos Colony to include much of the present-day Bendel State coast and territory, and the Eastern Ibo, Ijaw, and CalabarEfik-Ibibio areas of Nigeria. The administrative re-organizations introduced in 1906 joined Lagos Colony and Yorubaland to the ‘Southern Nigeria’ of 1900, to produce what was then chiefly coastal parts of modern Nigeria. Adm. 123/66, instructions, by Commodore A.P.E.Wilmot, to the Senior Officer of the Bights Division of the West African Squadron, 17/1/1865. CO 82/1, Owen to Hay, 22/3/1828. CO 82/4, Nicholls to Hay, 12/2/1831. On Beecroft’s career, also seeK. O.Dike, ‘John Beecroft, 1835–1849’, Journal of Historical Society of Nigeria, 1,1 (December, 1956), pp.5–14. Parliamentary Papers, (hereafter, PP), 1852, LIV (95), 1, p.227, Palmerston to Beecroft, 29/6/1849. PP 1865, V (0.39), Qq 3758–59, Captain Wildman’s replies to questions. J.C.Anene, Southern Nigeria in Transition, 1885–1906, Cambridge, 1966, pp.156–60, 193; Ebiegberi Joe Alagoa, The Small Brave CityState: A History of the Nembe Brass in the Niger Delta, Ibadan, 1963, ch. 7; Obaro Ikime, Merchant Prince of the Niger Delta: the Rise and Fall of Nana Olomu, Last Governor of the Benin River, London, 1968, ch. 4, p.112; Sir Alan Burns, History of Nigeria, London, 1963, pp. 172–3, 174–5, 177–9. A.Adu Boahen, Britain, the Sahara and the Western Sudan, 1788– 1861, Oxford, 1964, ch. 1. Robin Hallett (ed.), The Niger Journal of Richard and John Lander, London, 1965. Macgregor Laird and R.A.K.Oldfield, Narrative of an Expedition into the Interior of Africa; by the River Niger in the Steam Vessels ‘Quorrah’ and ‘Alburkah’ in 1832, 1833, and 1834, 2 vols, London, 1837. William Balfour Baikie, Narrative of an Exploring Voyage Up the Rivers Kwo’ra and Binue (Commonly Known as the Niger and Tschadda) in 1854, London, 1856. Burns, op. cit., p.107. Thomas Foxwell Buxton, The African Slave Trade and Its Remedy, London, 1840, pp.16–35. Burns, op. cit., p.107. K.Onwuka Dike, Trade and Politics in the Niger Delta, 1830–1885, Oxford, 1956, p.29; Captain John Adams, Remarks on the Country Extending from Cape Palmas to the River Congo, Including


16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37.

38. 39.

40.

Observations on the Manners and Customs of the Inhabitants, London 1823. Adams, op. cit., pp.129–30. Dike, op. cit., pp.29, 51. Adams, op. cit., p.122. O.Biobaku, The Egba and their Neighbours, 1842–1872, Oxford, 1957, p.43. James Bandinel, Some Account of the Trade in Slaves from Africa as Connected with Europe and America, London, 1842. C.Lloyd, The Navy and the Slave Trade, London, 1949, p.63. Ibid., p.69. PP 1825, XXVII, No.3, p.288, HM’s Commissioners to Canning, 15/5/1824. PP 1826, XXIX, No.4, pp.309–15, HM’s Commissioners at Sierra Leone to Canning, 10/4/1825. Dike, op. cit., p.70. Ibid., p.68. Biobaku, op. cit., p.43. PP, 1852, LIV (95), Enc. 4 in No.35, p.327, Adams to Fanshawe, 24/3/1851. Burns, op. cit., p.108. Dike, op. cit., ch. 6; also p.198. CO 147/27, R.S.Meade, Minute (with Statistics), 4/3/1873. C.W.Newbury, The Western Slave Coast and Its Rulers, Oxford, 1961, p.148. Dike, op. cit., pp.70–80. Ibid., ch. 7. PP, 1852, LIV (95) No.43, p.361, Palmerston to Admty., 27/9/1851; No.45, p.364, Admty to Bruce, 14/10/1851. Ibid., No. 55, p.371, Beecroft to Palmerston, 26/11/1851; Enc. 2 in No. 56, p.377. Ibid., No.69, p.413, Beecroft to Palmerston, 3/1/1852; Enc. in No. 69, pp.416–8, Treaty of 1 January 1852; Enc. 2 in No. 70, pp.420– 4, Jones to Bruce, 29/12/1851. Also see Biobaku, op. cit., pp.42–3, 45; Newbury, op. cit., pp.46–7, 48–50, 53–4; J.F.Ade Ajayi, The British Occupation of Lagos, 1851–61’, Nigeria Magazine, 69 (August, 1961), 98’-102. Lloyd, op. cit., ch. 11; John B. Losi, History of Lagos, Lagos, 1914; 1967, pp.29–37. PP 1862, LXI (147), No.6, p.347, McCoskry to Russel, 7/8/1861. CO 147/7, Nos.92 and 96, Glover to Cardwell, 9, 23/12/1864; No. 32, Glover to Cardwell, 14/3/1865; Proclamation, 16/8/1865; Glover to Cardwell, 5/4/1865. CSO 1/1/3, No.47, p. 352, (Nigerian National Archives, Ibadan), Glover to Hennessy, 15/5/1872.


41. CSO 1/1/4 Nos.145 & 151, pp.33, 41. Fowler to Hennessy, 9, 20/ 12/1872. 42. Ibid., Nos.23, p.84, Berkeley to Hennessy, 17/2/1873; No.37, p.100, Berkeley to Keate, 12/3/1873. 43. FO 2/34, John Washington, Memo. to FO, being ‘Report on the Niger Expedition and the Advantages to be derived from the results already achieved’, 12/4/1860; Minute on Captain Washington’s Report, Palmerston, 22/4/1860; Other Minutes on Same. 44. Burns, op. cit., p.159. 45. FO 84/1326, Livingstone to Jones, 18/8/1870; Livingstone to Grenville, 24/8/1870. 46. Anene, op cit., pp.42–5, 89–93; Cookey, S.J.S., King Ja Ja of the Niger Delta, New York, 1974. 47. E.A.Ayandele, The Missionary Impact on Modern Nigeria, 1842– 1914, London, 1966, pp.106–11. 48. Burns, op. cit., pp.172–3; Anene, op. cit., pp.153–60; Ikime, op cit., ch. 4. 49. H.Bindloss, In the Niger Country, London, 1898, pp.91–103. PP, ‘Report by Sir John Kirk on the Disturbances at Brass’, Africa, No.3, 1896. 50. Burns, op. cit., pp.177–9; Anene, op. cit., pp.189–96; Alan Ryder, Benin and the Europeans, 1485–1897, London, 1969, ch. 7. 51. Military Report on Southern Nigeria, 1908, vol. 1, General, p.20.

11 An Aspect of British Colonial Policy in Southern Nigeria: The Problems of Forced Labour and Slavery, 1895– 1928 Walter Ibekwe Ofonagoro Much has been written on the colonial history of Southern Nigeria especially as regards the political and administrative aspects of British rule, indigenous African responses to the conquest and occupation of their country by British troops, and the imposition of colonial government over their territories and peoples. The problem of forced labour and the related question of slavery in the context of British colonial policy in Southern Nigeria has yet to receive the kind of attention it deserves. The only serious and comprehensive work on slavery in Southern Nigeria to date is probably Oroge’s unpublished doctoral dissertation which examines the institution of slavery as it existed in south-west Nigeria in the nineteenth century.1 The work is in depth, the scope, sectional. Slavery has also been examined in a number of journal articles, but most of these have also been confined to specific areas of the country, or to aspects of British action in abolishing the institution.2 Whereas the abolition of slavery by the colonial government has been generously mentioned in books and examined in articles, the simultaneous imposition of forced labour on Southern Nigerian peoples by the same Administration has generally received cursory treatment, or, in most cases, no serious scrutiny whatsoever. To date, the forced labour question has been examined in as substantial a treatment as an article-length chapter only in T.N.Tamuno’s The Evolution of the Nigerian State, The Southern Phase, 1898–1914. Even so, Dr Tamuno’s otherwise informed and useful treatment of this subject leaves much to be desired. It does not examine critically the government’s claim that forced labour was imposed as a substitute for direct taxation, nor does it examine the forced labour question in the context of prevailing racialist attitudes concerning the ‘nature’ of African labour. No one who has read the writings of the early


administrators and traders can fail to be struck by prevailing attitudes towards the African people. Africans were invariably regarded as inferior, shiftless, leisure-loving, lazy, and unresponsive to cash incentives to work. These attitudes influenced many a colonial official in his ‘mission’ to teach the African the presumably foreign habits of thrift and industry. They also survived in economic literature in the myth of ‘the backwardsloping labour supply curve’ which, in turn, influenced many an employer to underpay his workers in order to prolong the satisfaction of that ‘target’ demand for income which was presumed to have been responsible for the African’s entry into the labour market in the first place. It was widely presumed that the African was influenced in his work habits by a peculiarly African way of doing things, assumed to be largely influenced by traditional orientations as opposed to Western economic rationality. He was seen as a reluctant ‘target worker’, whose elasticity of demand for income, once his target income had been achieved, approached zero for everything except leisure.3 Allied to this kind of attitude was the contemporary belief that Africans were mental midgets, mere children who must be guided in the ways of civilization through instruction in thrift and the work ethic by their intellectually superior and mature European benefactors. This attitude was exemplified by William H.Lever, founder of Lever Brothers, who firmly believed that the African’s ‘natural’ abilities did not equip him to do more than gather up palm nuts, or scratch the earth in subsistence agriculture. According to Lever, the African did not have the ‘requisite organizing ability’ to use his land, and was accustomed to irregular and perfunctory habits of work. ‘He might work very hard for a week or a day and do nothing for the next week or the next day and still make plenty of money to keep himself. Such a lazy creature normally ‘finds methodical work very irksome’.4 Such views were shared by Joseph Chamberlain, the British Colonial Secretary who presided over the conquest and occupation of Southern Nigeria which he hoped to develop as a raw materials estate for British industry. According to Mary Kingsley, who knew him very well, Chamberlain regarded Africans as ‘brutal, ignorant savages who must be crushed’ to make way for his estate development programme.5 It was evident in the views of such men as H.A. Butler and P.H.Ezechiel of the Colonial Office, as well as in the writings of colonial officials in the field right down to the lowest Assistant District Commissioner.6

FORCED LABOUR AND SLAVERY 221

No study of the forced labour question can be considered satisfactory which does not consider the issue in the context of these attitudes, expressed or implicit, which coloured the actions of those charged with making and implementing the colonial government’s policies in Southern Nigeria. In this chapter, it is the author’s intention to undertake such an exercise, to place the forced labour question in its proper context of prevailing assumptions regarding ‘the African’s natural abilities and proclivities’. It is hoped thereby to subject to critical examination the justifications and explanations offered in defence of forced labour practices in Southern Nigeria, the responses of the local population to such practices, and the contradictions in the government’s anti-slavery and forced labour policies. Relevant conclusions may then be drawn. At this juncture, it would be appropriate to define the geographical context of this study. The term ‘Southern Nigeria’ was first applied in 1900 to that portion of the West African rain forest bordering on the Bights of Benin and Biafra, which prior to that date had comprised the Benin Kingdom to the west of the Niger, the city-states of the Niger Delta, and the Igbo, Ekoi, Annang, and Ibibio republics located roughly south of the Benue, east of the Niger, and west of the Cameroons Mountains. This area had been recognized as an exclusive sphere for the operation of British trade at the Berlin Conference in 1885, and until 1891 was referred to as the British Protectorate of the Oil Rivers, and between 1891 and 1899, as the Niger Coast Protectorate. From 1886 until 1899, the successive colonial governments on the coast shared their claims to sovereignty over the indigenous population of this area with the chartered Administration of the Royal Niger Company, a latter day replica of the British East India Company, which administered the lower Niger valley on behalf of the British foreign office and Niger Company shareholders. Between 1900 and 1906, Southern Nigeria embraced these territories. Lagos, which had been under British control since 1861, and the Yoruba states to the hinterland of Lagos, invaded and brought under British rule in 1893, were administered separately until 1906 when they were included in the colony and protectorate of Southern Nigeria. It is to the territories and peoples of post-1906 Southern Nigeria that this study applies. Forced labour in the context of this paper may be defined as labour exacted under conditions of compulsion with or without


payment. Where a man or woman is compelled to work against his will, and legal penalties are exacted from him for failure to do the required work, such labour must be considered ‘forced’. The factor of payment in such labour, where applicable, might be deemed to be unattractive to the labourer thus compelled to work, for it is evident that in the absence of compulsion, the worker may have considered the opportunity cost of the work required of him too high to justify acceptance. It may well be that the tasks involved were often too risky to life and limb to be attractive at any price, or too much in conflict with the individual’s deeply held political or religious convictions to justify compliance. It may well be, also, that the tasks involved were too humiliating to be tempting at any price. Each of these conditions applied to the nature of the labour demanded of Southern Nigerians in the early years of colonial rule, as well as to the kind of remuneration offered where payment was involved. The exaction of forced labour as a matter of colonial policy was initiated in the neighbouring colony of the Gold Coast in December 1895, when the British colonial government of that territory passed a compulsory Labour Ordinance in order to provide Sir Francis Scott with the carriers or porters who were indispensable to his march on Kumasi. That Ordinance made it ‘obligatory on persons of the labouring class to give labour for public purposes on being called out by their chiefs or other native superiors’.7 In Southern Nigeria, forced labour was exacted under the rubric of the Native House Rule Ordinance of 1901, and The Roads and Creeks Proclamation of 1903, both of which made labour for public purposes compulsory for all adult men between the ages of fifteen and fifty, and all adult women between the ages of fifteen and forty-five.8 These, along with The Master and Servant Proclamations of 1901 and 1903 were the statutory basis for the imposition of forced labour in Southern Nigeria. These laws did not apply to Western Nigeria until jurisdictional disputes attendant upon the manner in which British rule had been imposed in Yorubaland had more or less been resolved by 1918. In the Niger Delta and the Central Province of Southern Nigeria these laws shored up the authority of chiefs and then made them the agencies for the exaction of forced labour required by the government. In the Eastern Province where, with the exception of the riverain communities of the Delta, the Niger, and Old Calabar, chieftaincy was non-existent in the pre-colonial era, the


government created chiefs by the simple expedient of issuing warrants to hand-picked individuals, and then proceeded to arm them with awesome powers, including the power to require labour of the Africans under their charge whenever required for public purposes. Such powers were invariably widely resented and resisted by the local population.9 The labour obligations thus imposed on the local population required of them their physical participation in manual labour tasks for twenty-four working days a year, or the equivalent of one month in twelve. No exceptions were legally made for all those falling within the prescribed age limits so that theoretically, heads of lineages falling within those age-brackets or even titled elders such as the Ozo-titled men of Igboland who were customarily exempt from manual labour by local social and status usages, were all legally liable to these labour obligations. These laws, however, made provision for the use of substitutes so that in the exceptional cases of influential men against whom their chiefs may have nursed personal animosity or harboured envy, most important locals never had to participate in the work themselves. However, this unfortunately meant that the weak and the powerless often had to be summoned to work more often than the statutory month in the year, and often tended to be kept at such tasks much longer than was reasonable or permissible. Certainly, there was no effective means of maintaining a strict check on how many men and women had been called out to work, and how often, there being no regular statistical records kept of such proceedings.10 The least powerful segment of the population was thus subjected to severe abuse. The policy makers at the Colonial Office did recognize the inequities inherent in the system. For instance, Sir Percy Anderson of the Colonial Office had this to say on the subject in 1911: ‘Forced Labour for public purposes is, in a primitive community, not very justifiable but necessary—but it must apply to the whole community, not merely to a portion of it.’11 The methods by which the labour was obtained made certain that the burden could not be equitably distributed over all eligible adults. Wealthy men and women were always able to bribe their way out of the exaction, Less wealthy ablebodied and determined resisters usually made good their escape before they could be seized by police constables detailed to pressgang labour whenever, as often was the case, the chiefs were unable to secure the required labour.12 Often, Africans so pressganged into service were locked up in guardrooms until the time


when their services should be required. When such captives escaped from custody, a fresh batch was normally impressed to take their place.13 Let us examine the various categories of forced labour, the conditions of service, the nature of resistance, and the nature and kind of remuneration offered. CARRIER LABOUR The men seized for use as beasts of burden were probably the most abused of the categories of compulsory service practised by the British government in Southern Nigeria. From the very beginning of colonial rule, the government required the services of thousands of men to carry the baggage of the troops which conquered and occupied the country for the British flag. Thereafter, the more difficult task of establishing among a sullen and hostile population the physical administrative presence of the government also involved the use of carriers or porters in carrying the baggage of colonial officials as they penetrated the unknown hinterland. Frank Hives, the first District Commissioner posted to Bende after the Aro Expedition in 1902, and the first to establish the District headquarters at Ogoja, found that he needed twenty-five men to carry fifty pounds sterling worth of the currency of the Upper Cross River, namely brass rods, of which £2 worth was normally considered adequate baggage for one porter. Officials on tour of their districts or troops on patrol in disturbed area normally required upwards of fifteen men to carry the baggage of each official and his entourage, each man being burdened with a sixty pound head load which he was expected to carry while trekking an average of ten to fifteen miles a day.14 The remuneration for this kind of work was a miserable six pence a day, the price of an ordinary fowl in contemporary Southern Nigeria. The District Commissioner of each District was the local representative of the government. The police were under his direct authority, and faced with the difficulty of obtaining any kind of labour for the kind of ‘generous’ remuneration he was authorized to offer, he was often compelled by necessity to use his police to accomplish what his treasury could not afford. Lofty regulations from headquarters were often ignored in the situation in which the man on the scene found himself.15 Further, carrier labour for marches into distant areas was unpopular. Most locals did not trust the Administration’s ability to protect them in areas far from their


homes, where both themselves and the government officials involved were wont to be regarded as unwanted strangers, and often harshly dealt with. Thus the District Commissioner class of officials not only freely availed themselves of press-gang labour, but often used the same methods to help out their associates, forestry officers, doctors, public works officials, and others who would have otherwise been unable to obtain any labour at all, particularly for dangerous undertakings.16 Thus, when the Colonial Office sought the opinions of Commissioners in 1911 with regard to the desirability of abolishing the House Rule Ordinance which shored up the power of the chiefs and authorized them to secure ‘political’ labour for the government, their responses revealed that they all valued the legislation mainly as a means of obtaining forced labour: Perhaps the most interesting evidence of all is that of the Commissioners who with one lament ask how is the administration to be carried out if we cannot go to the Head of a House and demand carriers and paddlers? How is the work of sanitation, roadmaking and clearing to be carried on if we cannot hold the Head of the House responsible for furnishing the necessary labour? (See Fosbery, Hargrave, Layton, Stoker, etc.). They are all of the opinion that the necessary labour cannot be got, even at a ruinous price, and that thus the progress and development of the country would be retarded.17 It is interesting that these Commissioners justified forced labour on the grounds that their government was engaged in developing the country, and needed the labour for that purpose. There is no need to go to any great pains to refute this claim. The views of one of the Commissioners who spent the first twenty-five years of this century in the Southern Nigerian Colonial Service is adequate rebuttal: It is the British people who are responsible for the well being of the Crown Colonies and for the development and education of the human material they contain. Unfortunately, they are not greatly interested. There is a tendency to regard these possessions as little more than the kitchen gardens of the empire estate, which require no


attention so long as they keep up a regular supply of the products required by the markets of the United Kingdom.18 The same sentiments were expressed by D.C.Fraser, who visited Nigeria in 1924–25: It is a curious fact, however, that only such countries as are rich in products necessary or desirable for the use of modern civilization, are given over to the custody of the powers. We do not hear of desert tracts, which are useless being eagerly sought after… It would suggest that the benevolent influence is only necessary where exploitation is possible at a reasonable expenditure.19 Such limited economic development as did take place was merely incidental to this objective. It was no justification for the imposition of forced labour on the colonized peoples. Carrier labour was particularly dangerous when required in connection with the various military operations essential to the conquest and occupation of Southern Nigeria. Between 1900 and 1918, these punitive expeditions and patrols were concentrated in the central and eastern provinces of Southern Nigeria, especially the eastern provinces. The Iseyin riots of 1916, the Abeokuta rising of 1917, and the Oyo and Enugu disturbances of 1918 were further occasions for the large-scale use of troops and carriers. Military operations took carriers away from their homes and farms for as long as six months at a time to dangerous zones of actual combat hostilities where they often accounted for the majority of fatalities and casualties sustained by colonial government forces in such engagements. They were not trained to protect themselves on the battlefield, nor were they armed with anything more impressive than the ordinary machete, often provided by themselves, for battlefield situations where guns and bullets ruled the roost. Six pence a day could not have been adequate incentive to encounter such risks. Often, carriers who tried to down their loads and take to their heels were shot dead by the military officers commanding such expeditions.20 Carriers were invariably paid, the rate varying from six pence to nine pence a day. A further incentive was the opportunity to obtain loot from areas punished by military forces where the carrier labour was required for military porterage. It was the carriers who were charged with the work of demolishing


barns, knocking down every wall in the town or village being punished by the troops, and helping themselves to the property of the punished, setting the torch to whatever they could not carry off with them. Considering the heavy burdens with which they must have been encumbered on the return journey, their carrying capacity for loot must have been, in all such cases, severely limited. This kind of labour was altogether not very desirable and there were often very few voluntary takers. In cases such as this, colonial officials were not averse to resorting to compulsion. Lugard, for instance, justified compulsion ‘where labour cannot otherwise be procured for public works of an essential and urgent nature’, and considered the use of compulsory labour in transport work as entirely indefensible, except where any other form of transport is impossible. Lord Milner on the other hand, ‘instanced Government transport as one of the tasks for which compulsory labour was authorized, namely, for porters to carry the effects of officials, so as to enable them to travel on duty —which is a vital necessity’.21 These were influential voices in shaping British colonial policies in West Africa. British policy on this question was given definitive statement by the Secretary of State for the Colonies, Lord Cromer, in 1919. He maintained that the government of an African dependency was justified in resorting to compulsion for paid labour required for works of a public nature, subject to express provisos: We reluctantly admit the necessity of compulsory labour in certain cases, and we do not stigmatize as slavery such labour, when under all possible safeguards against the occurrence of abuses, it is employed for indispensable and recognized purposes of public utility. On the other hand, we regard the system when employed for private profit as wholly unjustifiable.22 Such was the policy, and it was never seriously challenged in England. On the contrary, Lord Bryce defended it stoutly in the House of Lords on 14 July 1920, pointing out at the same time his very intelligent observation that since such works are conducted in public, any abuses would be known and rectified.23 Lord Bryce did not have to look too far afield for examples of abuses committed in public. In 1910, the forcible seizure of carriers from among the congregations of two African churches at Iseri and Umuku during


divine service for the benefit of the colonial medical officer stationed at Epe, Dr Kent, provoked so much uproar that Dr Kent’s contract of service was not renewed upon termination, and the affected congregations were offered the very generous compensation of £5 each by the government, which compensation they very politely refused to accept.24 Not all abuses were of this extreme nature, nor was the flogging of African carriers who refused to be impressed into service capable of receiving the kind of prompt remedial action that the Iseri and Imuku incidents had evoked. Carrier labour was unfortunately justified by Governor Egerton of Southern Nigeria as inevitable and essential because ‘these people are what they are and will remain so until the country is properly opened up by railways and their feeder roads’.25 To the charge made by the Anti-Slavery and Aborigine’s Protection Society in 1909 to the effect that the carrier system caused the people great inconvenience and hardship, took them away from their homes and farms for weeks on end, was degrading and often dangerous, and adversely affected agricultural production and consequently the price of food stuffs, Egerton expressed himself satisfied that the remuneration was adequate though he was prepared to admit that it constituted a ‘great tax’ on the people. Further, he maintained that the numbers of people involved out of a population of seven million was never large at any given time and therefore it could not have adversely affected agricultural production. Finally, he believed that the number of people affected by these labour demands would be drastically reduced when the railways and roads, then under construction, had been completed.26 Similarly, Colonial Secretary Lyttleton made lame excuses whenever the issue was raised in the House of Commons, and the matter was never vigorously pursued or investigated.27 The exaction of carrier labour from the peoples of Southern Nigeria thus remained a feature of British colonial labour policy in Southern Nigeria well beyond 1928 when other forms of forced labour were abolished, on paper at any rate.28 LABOUR FOR ROAD WORK AND RAILWAY CONSTRUCTION The provision of adequate road and rail facilities, the removal of snags from creeks and rivers, and the maintenance of all roads,


once built, in good usable condition, were among the most important objectives of the colonial government in its task of harnessing Southern Nigeria to the British market. These tasks were normally accomplished through forced labour. The Roads and Creeks Proclamation of 1903 remained the legal machinery for the exaction of the labour required for these purposes. It was not abolished until 1928. Road Work Although Governor Egerton claimed that his Administration distinguished between thoroughfares and bush paths—the former built by paid labour, and the latter by means of forced labour exacted from the people through their chiefs—such distinctions were, in practice, purely academic.29 Ward-Price cites an example of a ‘Government’ road, ‘that is to say, not built for local purposes, but as a cross-country route’. This road was being built to connect the Ijesha country with Benin City, 180 miles away, under the supervision of Taffy Jones, a Public Works Department engineer. The labour gangs for this road were obtained by compulsion, and the work was extremely un-popular in the area.30 Invariably, where the labour had been obtained by compulsion, no payment was made for the labour thus exacted.31 Recalcitrant communities such as the Ngor/Okpuala towns punished by a military expedition in 1902, were often required to surrender hostages as a guarantee of their future co-operation in the provision of labour gangs for road work.32 Forced labour for road work was universally unpopular. In Western Nigeria where it was exacted through traditional chiefs, resistance often took the form of poisoning the road-gang overseers.33 In the Agbor district of the central province of Southern Nigeria, the high-handed methods adopted by the District Commissioner, Mr Crewe-Read, in obtaining forced labour for road work led to his assassination and the death of his entire entourage at the hands of irate locals in 1906.34 Railways The construction of railways in Eastern and Western Nigeria also involved the mobilization and use of vast gangs of labourers. Most of the labour used on the railways was, on paper, ‘voluntary’. In


practice, much of that labour was obtained by compulsion. Rebellious communities such as the Akagbe, Amugunze, and Ogbaku in the Udi Division who, in 1914, ejected their warrant chiefs from their towns as an act of rejection of the colonial government’s authority, were not merely punished by a military visitation, they were also in this instance required to supply 2,000 labourers for railway construction work.35 As a general rule, labour for railway work was secured by compulsory means because voluntary labour was often not forthcoming.36 Whenever it was unable to secure voluntary labour, the government simply estimated the number of men required for the task at hand, and assigned a continent to each province. Thus, in 1925, of the 12, 500 men employed in railway construction work in Northern Nigeria, thirty-eight per cent were compulsorily secured ‘political labour’. That thirty-eight per cent was levied on the Nassarawa, Bauchi, and Zaria provinces according to population. The Resident of each province then divided the levy among the various Native Authorities in his area. Protests in Zaria in 1924 against this practice merely resulted in a temporary abandonment of this method of labour recruitment. It was reimposed in 1925 when sufficient volunteers were not forthcoming.37 An official of the Administration gave the following defence of the practice: Were the Government to rely solely on such labour as can be recruited individually at current labour rate, it would be impossible to build railways or to undertake any other public work of any magnitude. We are endeavouring to secure free labour wherever possible or voluntary labour recruited by contractors; but in the present state of development of the country, the only efficient contractors are the Native Administration and Chiefs. It is through them that labour is recruited, and the difference between them and private contractors is simply that whereas the private contractor reckons to make a profit on his contract, the Native Administration do not expect to receive any consideration from the Government for recruiting their peoples for work.38 The issue was, essentially, that the government was unwilling to hire labourers individually at the then current market price of labour; and this was not because of any lack of funds.39 The presumed advantages of recruiting labour through the chiefs were


demonstrably false. In the Udi area of Eastern Nigeria, Chief Onyeama was the principal supplier of labour to the governmentrun coal mines at Enugu, and for a number of years, he was paid a large subsidy by the Administration in recognition of his services.40 Other chiefs involved in labour recruitment for the coal mines were Ezeokolie, Chukwuani, and Nweke Obodo. Nweke Obodo, for instance, extorted money, goats, and other bribes from poor peasants in order to exempt them from compulsory labour in the coal mines, and those who had already paid their dues in the mines were similarly subjected to further extortion as the price of their being exempted from turning over their earnings to the other chiefs.41 Labour in the mines, originally voluntary, became scarce in 1918 owing to the outbreak of influenza and smallpox epidemics in 1918 and 1920.42 Another, and probably more important reason for the labour difficulties encountered in the coal mines after 1918 was the government’s action in imposing a drastic reduction in wages at the mines. Initially, high wages had attracted voluntary labour in large number to the mines, and the consequent high productivity was reflected in coal output statistics: production increased from 24,500 tons in 1916, to 83, 405 tons in 1917, and reached a high of 148,214 tons in 1918. Theories regarding the presumed ‘target’ nature of African demand for income from work at the mines then came into play. Wages were sharply reduced and piece-work introduced. Output for 1919 fell to 137,844 tons, a drop of almost 10,000 tons in a single year.43 Forced labour was imposed in the mines in 1920. Thereafter, the procurement of labour for mining work ‘became an object for individual oppression and cheating, and a means of lining pockets of chiefs at the expense of poor peasants’.44 Further, convict labour from the Enugu prison, designed to hold a thousand inmates assembled from various parts of the country for work at the mines, were employed side by side with the compulsorily acquired labour and such voluntary labour as was available.45 In Western Nigeria, forced labour was equally employed for railway and road work, and it was just as bitterly resented. After the Ijebu expedition, slaves and domestics deserted the farms of their masters in large numbers. The resulting decline in farm produce was reflected in the economy of Lagos. By 1898, the impact of such labour diversion from agriculture to road and railway work was so severe that the government of Lagos ordered an inquiry into the matter. The unanimous opinion of African


traders and farmers was that the government’s labour exactions were the source of their difficulties. By 1902, the government of Lagos was sufficiently convinced of the validity of this charge to pass an ordinance, the Native Labour Ordinance, which sought to check the drain of labour from the farms.46 Forced labour for road work nonetheless continued to be exacted in Yorubaland until 1917, and in Egbaland and elsewhere in Western Nigeria until 1918 when it was replaced by direct taxation.47 REMUNERATION AND CONDITIONS OF SERVICE The labour problems of the colonial government and the consequent resort to compulsion were not the result of any innate peculiarities of African labour, nor were they due, as Elliot Berg would have us believe, to adjustment problems of Africans as they were being conditioned to the rhythm of regular and systematic labour in the dual economic situation created by the extraversion of Southern Nigerian economy and society in the early years of colonial rule.48 There were those like Sir Alan Burns who subscribed to the theory of bounteous nature and envisioned the ‘African savage’ taking it easy under the cool shades of ample trees, his small wants easily satisfied by the least exertion: Where the requirements of everyday life are very primitive and the means of satisfying them easily obtained, there is no need for one man to work for another; enough need only to provide the necessaries of life for the immediate family of the worker, and where no luxuries can be obtained there is no incentive to work for a wage. Such was the point of view of the savage who inhabited the fastnesses of mountain and forest, who worked how and when he pleased for himself and his family, and for no one else except under compulsion.49 This was the basis of the application to Southern Nigerian labour of the myth of the backward-sloping labour supply curve, as well as of the colonial regime’s belief in the efficacy and necessity of forced labour. There was no need to use cash incentives to attract labour, since such labour was deemed naturally unresponsive to such incentives. African man was not included in the usual


definition of homo oeconomicus. A brief analysis of the pay structure of African labour will make the point. Labour exacted by the colonial government, whenever paid, was employed ‘at the normal daily wage which applies to voluntary labour in the district in question’.50 In practice, this meant that the labourer received anywhere from six pence to nine pence a day. Labourers coming from long distances for road or railway work were paid four pence per twenty miles for subsistence. In the coal mines, even as late as 1929, labourers’ daily wages averaged between seven pence and 1s. 6d. a day.51 Perhaps the Nigerian labourers should have considered themselves lucky. In East Africa, labourers received as little as three pence per day for an eleven or twelve-hour day; and in Northern Rhodesia the pay in 1920 was as low as 1 ½d. per day. In any case, the daily wage rate for unskilled labour throughout the British African colonies was in each colony approximately the same as the local value of a fowl.52 Even so, six pence a day in Nigeria for a five day week of eleven to twelve hours a day averaged £6 a year. At nine pence a day, computed over the same period, the labourer’s annual income could never have exceeded £9 a year. Now, in imposing direct taxation in Oyo province in 1918, the government levied a flat rate on all adult males, of six shillings a year. The method by which that rate was determined is instructive for our purposes here: The value of yams, maize, cassava, cotton, pigs, goats, sheep were very roughly assessed, and the result indicated that a farmer’s average income was £12 per annum. The tax being six pence in the £, the rate payable per per adult male was six shillings’.53 That figure was probably a gross underestimate, given the tenuous nature of the government’s hold on the country at the time the assessment was made, and the very widespread and substantial rate of evasion. Be that as it may, even that low figure indicated that the average peasant was financially better off on his own farm. His earnings from his own farm were twenty-five per cent higher than he could have earned by working for the government. In the Eastern provinces of Southern Nigeria, in spite of the abolition of the manilla currency in 1902, manillas remained the currency of the country. Delta traders converted their funds into manillas befor entering the hinterland for trade, and until 1948, manillas were still current money in most Igbo markets in the southern part of the country. Direct taxation was not imposed until 1927. There was therefore no reason to accept


financially and otherwise unattractive employment in order to earn payment in British currency. The myth of target labour demand for cash income was thus definitely a myth in Southern Nigeria. The Africans voluntarily responded enthusiastically to high wages in the coal mines and returned to their farms when their remuneration deteriorated. In Lagos, as many as 2,500 labourers were induced by high wages to migrate to the Gold Coast in search of work on the railways in 1903, in spite of the existence of a strong demand for labour for railway work closer to home in Western Nigeria. The low wages on the Nigerian railways made the local demand for labour unattractive. On the Nigerian road and rail projects, the labourers had to feed themselves out of their nine pence a day, and because they often had no alter-native to purchasing food from the immediate environs of the labour camp, prices were often high, and food shortages occasionally occurred. Raymond Leslie Buell wrote: As long as men are obliged to use their nine pence per day in the purchase of food, it would appear that they are underpaid in comparison with Natives working on the open market. If this be true, political labour constitutes a type of labour tax— and a tax which does not rest on the authority of law.54 The behaviour and performance of African labour was always directly related to conditions of service and levels of pay, rather than to culturally determined attitudes towards wage employment. The myth of limited wants has been laid to rest by A.G. Hopkins in demonstrating that the African people responded to expanded imports of consumer goods by creating a series of export economies which financed their purchases of the ever increasing flow of imported consumer goods from Europe before and since the colonial period.55 Further, in a 1960 study of 50,000 Nigerian workers drawn from sixty-three variegated establishments that accounted for about ten per cent of Nigeria’s enumerated wageearners in that year, Peter Kilby laid the myth of the African as a target worker to rest by demonstrating that the performance of African labour was primarily dependent on working conditions and not on any inherent or culturally determined attitudes to wage employment. He also found the African to be ‘punctual, stable in his job, diligent in his attendance, with adequate supervision an efficient producer, but above all, he is responsive to monetary


incentives.’56 Given normal cash incentives and desirable working conditions, the aggregate supply curve of African labour did not become regressive at an early point.57 Let us examine the conditions of labour in early colonial Southern Nigeria. In the Enugu coal mines, labourers were pressganged by unscrupulous chiefs into the very disagreeable rigours of toil in sooty subterranean caverns. Further, management deliberately pursued a policy of recruiting illiterates, avoiding educated and semi-educated Africans as potential troublemakers. Such labourers were kept deliberately transient by the simple expedient of rostering which kept more men on the work force than were needed at any given time, underpaying and underutilizing all but a favoured few. Often, the headmen would fire batches of labourers just before their monthly payday, replace them with a fresh batch of men, and annex their wages.58 On the road and rail projects, both compulsory and voluntary labour were organized into gangs, each gang being set a task by the day. The work day was over at 4 pm, and the political officer attached to the construction work was responsible for seeing to it that the tasks were reasonable, and that the labour was well treated.59 If he turned out to be a Crewe-Read or a Col Adams, those safeguards had no meaning. THE JUSTIFICATION OF FORCED LABOUR In addition to the view of colonial officials already noted, other justifications were advanced in support of forced labour policies. Forced labour was often justified as a convenient alternative to direct taxation. This was, however, unconvincing because forced labour was usually imposed as a matter of necessity, and continued to be so exacted even after the imposition of direct taxation in 1927, and the abolition of the Roads and Creeks Proclamation in 1928. The incidence of these exactions decreased only in the 1930s when the level of road and railway development, and the greater availability of automobile transport rendered it increasingly unnecessary, especially in the un-desirable form of carrier labour.60 Forced labour was also justified as an educational experience for the African. In this context, Fischer’s thesis, so prominent in German colonial thought, that ‘colonizing Africa is making the Negro work’, was equally conspicuous in British colonial assumptions.61 In British East Africa forced labour was defended


as a means of ‘training the natives to work so that they shall not live in idleness and vice’.62 A third justification was the government’s belief that as the governing power, it had inherited from the kings and chiefs of pre-colonial Nigeria the rights to exact labour for public purposes which they assumed existed in customary law. After all, such rights inhered in the Anglo-Saxon kings of medieval England in the form of the old brig-bote and burg-bote.63 Why not in tribal Southern Nigeria? It was, in this sense, an attempt to assert sovereign power over the colonized peoples of Southern Nigeria. Resistance to it was, also in this context, a form of resistance to British assumption of sovereign authority over the territories and peoples of Southern Nigeria. The application of Anglo-Saxon notions of public power to Southern Nigeria was as misguided as it was based on false assumptions born of ignorance. Buell, for instance, stated that the principle on which forced labour was based in Southern Nigeria was wrong.64 While the Yoruba monarchies, the Benin Kingdom, and other hierarchically structured societies may have had some form of labour services to their governments, and while the village republics of Eastern Nigeria did have traditional provisions for community work, such work was not usually exacted by force. It was even more undesirable when such exaction was being imposed by a foreign, unrecognized, occupying power. The entirely extraordinary character of the exactions was manifest in the universal unpopularity of the practice in both the monarchical and segmentary lineage communities of Southern Nigeria. FORCED LABOUR AND SLAVERY The institution of slavery was widespread in pre-colonial Southern Nigeria. In south-west Nigeria, there were large-scale slave holders such as Madam Efunseyitan of Ibadan who, in the 1870s owned 2, 000 slaves who worked on her farms. Chiefs often had anywhere from 300 to 800 slaves employed on agricultural labour on their farms. Most of these were captives of war.65 As regards the Niger Delta and Eastern Nigeria, one only has to read Professor Afigbo’s The eclipse of the Aro slaving oligarchy of South-Eastern Nigeria, 1901–1927’, and J. S.Harris’ ‘Some aspects of slavery in SouthEastern Nigeria’ to realize how extensive, pervasive, and tenacious the institution was. The African slave in Southern Nigeria was, however, not a chattel. This was confirmed by Sir Ralph Moor:


I would first premise by defining the absolute state of slavery as being that in which a man is and always remains in the position of goods and chattels, liable to be sold, pawned, or made away with, at the will of another, and cannot acquire or possess any rights or properties. I am not aware that any natives in Southern Nigeria are at the present day in this absolute state of slavery… With the coast tribes of middlemen traders such a state of slavery has, as far as I can learn, never really existed.66 Walter Rodney’s ‘other forms of social oppression’ are more appropriate as a description of the conditions of various categories of unfreedom in precolonial and early colonial Southern Nigeria.67 Be that as it may, our objective here is not to examine slavery in any detail, but rather to identify the contradiction implicit in the colonial government’s anti-slavery and forced labour policies. One of its earliest tasks was to abolish the institution of slavery throughout Southern Nigeria. This was accomplished on paper through the Slave Dealing Proclamation of 1901. Although this law remained a dead letter in most areas and slavery continued to flourish until well after 1927, the government’s simultaneous promulgation of the Native House Rule Ordinance of 1901, especially in the powers which it gave the chiefs to recruit forced labour, and in its measures designed to buttress the authority of the chiefs—such as the use of the local police in securing the capture of the chiefs’ runaway subjects—tended to reimpose slavery on both free and unfree in the Delta area of Southern Nigeria. The House Rule law was imposed to secure forced labour and Sir Ralph Moor imposed it mainly because he believed that ‘unless a system of forced labour etc, were maintained, trade would suffer, and Liverpool interests would be affected’.68 Both the House Rule Ordinance and the government’s forced labour policy created fugitives, many escaping to Lagos or Fernando Po, where they threw themselves on the mercy of the Spanish authorities of that plantation island. The Anti-Slavery and Aborigines Protection Society stoutly maintained that these measures constituted a legal sanction of slavery on the one hand and the actual practice of slavery by the government on the other. In private minutes at the Colonial Office, Sir Percy Anderson admitted the validity of these claims. There is no doubt’, he minuted to his peers, ‘that the effect of the House Rule Ordinance


has been to render the abolition of slavery to a large extent nugatory. At the best he has been turned into the position of a villein or serf’.69 The government was thus in the peculiar position of maintaining in ‘slavery’, or ‘serfdom’ at any rate, a class of people whom it claimed to have freed from bondage. The contradiction was patently indefensible. The House Rule Ordinance was abolished in 1912. As regards forced labour, Sir Percy Anderson opined that ‘if we make a wholesale change in the status of slaves, we must cease demanding labourers and carriers from the head of the House’.70 In effect, one could not abolish slavery on the one hand, and at the same time continue to exact labour from the people through their chiefs. The so-called slaves were certain to bear the brunt of such labour services demanded of the community through their chiefs. The exaction of forced labour continued well beyond 1928. The status of slavery did not disappear until some time after the same date. It is evident that the government’s two-faced and vacillating approach to the issue had cost it considerable moral authority. Slavery did disappear ultimately but only after the spread of education, and the increased sophistication and enlightenment of the general population made people more aware of their rights under the new scheme of things, and eliminated the internal market for slaves. As regards forced labour, it was continued to a progressively diminishing extent after the abolition of the Roads and Creeks Proclamation in 1928. We must recall at this juncture, Governor Egerton’s statement in 1907 to the effect that forced labour must remain a necessity for the government until the road and rail building programme required to open up the country to British trade had been completed. Railway and road construction were, at prevailing levels of technology, labour-intensive undertakings which lent themselves easily to task-work requiring gangs of labourers. The government’s road-building programme may be said to have been completed with the publication of the Communications Guide of 1930.71 The railway construction programme was completed in 1926.72 Even so, there is no certainty that the exaction of forced labour ended with the comple tion of these projects. All that is certain is that resort to it thereafter became less frequent and less brazen for, as R.L. Buell indicated, although the ordinance which imposed the maintenance of the entire road system of Nigeria on indigenous authorities by means of compulsory and unpaid labour had been abolished in


1928, the obligation to work on the construction or maintenance of railways and roads was very seldom ever laid down in an ordinance of the government.73 The forced labour question must remain a dark and conspicuous stain in the colonial record of Great Britain in Southern Nigeria. CONCLUSIONS Forced labour was imposed as a matter of policy and expediency in the Gold Coast in 1895. It was extended to Nigeria and remained legally in use until 1928 after which date its continued use, though illegal, remained a matter of expediency and necessity. In practice, it was anchored in and justified from a standpoint of racist attitudes concerning Africans, attitudes which later acquired theoretical aggrandizement in the ‘scholarly‘myth of the backwardsloping labour supply curve. African labour behaviour was never subject to any specifically ‘African’ determinants of performance and behaviour in a wage-labour setting, but was always responsive to the usual monetary incentives and good conditions of work. Theoretical assumptions about the nature and proclivities of African labour in the colonial period encouraged the underpayment, abuse, and harsh treatment of coerced African labour in the early colonial period. However, in exacting forced labour from its colonial charges the British government of Southern Nigeria caught itself in the embarrassing situation of simultaneously professing to abolish pre-existent domestic slavery, while at the same time re-imposing a harsher form of servitude on the presumed beneficiaries of its liberating influence. Forced labour and slavery disappeared gradually and almost simultaneously from Southern Nigeria as the bigotry, cultural arrogance, and ignorance of the nineteenth century gradually receded before the glare of the greater enlightenment of the twentieth, leaving of the dismal past the fragile shreds of a once overpowering web of oppression, needing now only to be noted in the storehouse of memory, a matter of record.


NOTES 1. E.A.Oroge, The institution of slavery in Yorubaland with particular reference to the nineteenth century’, PhD thesis, University of Birmingham, 1971. 2. One may note among these, the following articles: J.S.Harris, ‘Some aspects of slavery in South-Eastern Nigeria’, Journal of Negro History, 27, 1 (1942); A.E.Afigbo, The eclipse of the Aro slaving oligarchy of South-Eastern Nigeria, 1901–1927’, Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria, 6, 1 (Dec., 1971); and G.Olusana, ‘Freed Slaves Homes’, Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria (1966). 3. For further information on this myth, as well as on the kind of racist thought on which it was based, see J. St.John Orde Browne, The African Labourer, London, 1933; Labour Conditions in East Africa, London, 1946; J.Heigham, Productivity of Labour in the Gold Coast, Accra, 1953; and Elliot J.Berg, ‘Backward-sloping labour supply functions in dual economies—the African case’, Quarterly Journal of Economics, 75 (1961), 468–92. 4. See John Holt Papers, Box 18, file 8, W.H.Lever to E.D.Morel, April 1911; and Lever to Morel, 27/4/1911. 5. Holt Papers, 16/4, Mary Kingsley to John Holt, 5/5/1899. 6. CO/520/14, ‘Aro Operations’, minutes by H.A.Butler on 13229, dated 7/4/1902. For Mr. Ezechiel’s views, see his various minutes in connection with the efforts of the Southern Nigerian government to secure the services of an Indian Forestry Officer, in CO/520/1/14. For typical views of lower level officials, see H.L.Ward-Price, Dark Subjects, London, 1939; Frank Hives and G.Lumley, Juju and Justice in Nigeria, New York, n.d. 7. W.I.Ofonagoro, ‘The opening up of Southern Nigeria to British trade and its consequences, economic and social history, 1881– 1916’, PhD thesis, Columbia University, 1972, p.334. 8. CO/588/1 for text of the Roads and Creeks Proclamation; and W.I. Ofonagoro, The commercial decline of the Eastern Delta, 1890– 1930’, unpublished Master’s essay, Columbia University, 1967, for further discussion of the ‘Native House Rule Ordinance’ and the ‘Master and Servant Ordinance.’ 9. On the Warrant Chiefs system, see A.E.Afigbo, The Warrant Chiefs, London, 1972. 10. At Ikot Ekpene in Eastern Nigeria the chiefs normally distributed zinc tokens to able-bodied men and women whose services were required for road work, or for carrier labour, or for cleaning the premises of the District Commissioner’s offices, residence, and the homes of his clerks and Government resthouses. Penalties including


11. 12.

13.

14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27.

fines and terms of imprisonment were imposed on those who ignored the call to labour. The story of Udo Akpabio of Ikot Ekpene’ in M. Perham (ed.), Ten Africans, London, 1935, pp.55–6. CO/520/107, ‘House Rule Ordinance’, minutes by Sir Percy Anderson, 18/12/1911. The use of press-gang methods in obtaining forced or ‘political’ labour was first noted by Bishop James Johnson in 1903: Church Missionary Archives, London, Report by Bishop James Johnson, file GBA/8/d/1903/79–122. It was subsequently, widely reported in the writings of officials, for example, Morel Papers, File F (8), John Holt to E.D.Morel, 30/6/1905; D.C.Fraser, Impressions: Nigeria, 1925, London, 1926, pp.104 and 106; Ward-Price, op. cit., p.213; and Hives and Lumley, op. cit., chapters 10 and 11. Ofonagoro, The opening up of Southern Nigeria to British trade’, p. 335. Often, when able-bodied potential carriers escaped impressment, mere children were seized and impressed into service. See Fraser, op. cit., p.94. Hives and Lumley, op. cit., p.144. Because Hives was opening up a new district where British authority was not recognized he had to change his sterling into brass rods and twenty-five men were required just to carry his money. See also Ward-Price, p.213. Hives and Lumley, p.142. Ward-Price, op. cit., p.213. See also CO/520/107, ‘Native House Rule Ordinance’, minutes by Sir Percy Anderson, 18/12/1911. Ibid. Ward-Price, op. cit., p.216. Fraser, op. cit., pp.82–3. Ofonagoro, ‘The opening up of Southern Nigeria to British trade’, chapter II, ‘Punitive Expeditions’. A carrier who tried to escape during an expedition in the Abakaliki country, managed to gain fifty yards on his heels before Col. Adams of the Southern Nigeria Regiment ‘dropped him with a lucky shot’. F.D.Lugard, The Dual Mandate in British Tropical Africa, London, 1965, pp.411 and 423. First published in 1922. Ibid., p.410. Ibid. T.N.Tamuno, The Evolution of the Nigerian State: The Southern Phase, 1898–1914, London, 1972, p.319. CO/520/46, Walter Egerton to CO, 28/5/1907, enclosure. CO/520/87, AS & APS to CO, 5/10/1909; CO/520/92, Egerton to CO, 17/3/1910. For other justifications, CO/520/46, Egerton to CO, 28/5/1907. Morel Papers, F(8), John Holt to E.D.Morel, 30/6/1905.


28. R.L.Buell, The Native Problem in Africa, 2 vols., London, 1928, vol. 1, p.658. 29. CO/520/92, Egerton to CO, 17/3/1910. 30. Ward-Price, op. cit., p.135. 31. M.Perham, op. cit., pp.55–6. 32. CO/520/15, Moor to CO, 13/8/1902, Enclosure 1, Report by H.M. Douglas, District Commissioner, Owerri. 33. Ward-Price, op. cit., pp.135–7. 34. For a full treatment of the Crewe-Read affair, see Tamuno, op. cit., pp. 321–3. Crewe-Read’s excesses included the public flogging of chiefs who failed or refused to supply the labour for road work on demand, as well as the flogging of labourers for the slightest offence. 35. Agwu Agbala, ‘The background of the Colliery shooting incident in 1949’, Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria, 3, 2 (1965), 339. 36. Fraser, op. cit., p.170. 37. Buell, op. cit., vol. 1, p.658. 38. Ibid. The italics are mine. 39. Morel Papers, F(8), John Holt to E.D.Morel, 30/6/1905; and Holt to Morel, 13/6/1906. John Holt maintained that the government had more than sufficient revenue to pay its workers. 40. Robert L.Tignor, ‘Colonial chiefs in chiefless societies’, Journal of Modern African Studies, 9, 3(1971), 347. 41. Agbala, op. cit., 338–9. 42. Ibid., p.338. 43. Accounts and Papers, vol. 24, 1921, pp.281–303, Nigeria Annual Report for 1919, p.6. See also Lugard, op. cit., p.421, and WardPrice, op. cit., p.86. 44. Agbala, op. cit., p.338. 45. Ward-Price, op. cit., p.85. 46. CO/147/133, Denton to CO, 4/6/1898; CO/147/160, MacGregor to CO, 6/1/1902; and P.D. Cole, Traditional and modern elites in the politics of Lagos, 1884–1938’, PhD thesis, University of Cambridge, 1969, p. 180. 47. Ward-Price, op. cit., pp.68–9; 150–51. 48. Berg, op. cit., 468–92. 49. Sir Alan Burns, History of Nigeria, London, 1963, p.202. This view was widespread among European officials, traders, and visitors to Nigeria during the colonial period. Ward-Price saw his duty as Administrative Officer in charge of Udi Division, Enugu, as principally the job of ‘civilizing the groups of cannibals and head hunters in the neighbouring towns’. Op. cit., p.86; and Fraser exemplifies the ‘bounteous nature’ and ‘lazy African’ myth: ‘At the present time a farm consists of an area which we should term a


50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62.

63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

small garden, the climate and the soil being so generous as to enable the farmer by reason of only a few days’ work in the year to supply his modest requirements in the form of cassava, and yams, supplemented by palm-oil which can be obtained from any of the numerous trees which abound close to the village hereabouts. The remainder of the year, the native lies about his compound, the prospect of good wages presenting no attraction to him’. Fraser, op. cit., p.104. Buell, op. cit., p.658–9. Ibid., p.658; M.Crowder, West Africa Under Colonial Rule, London, 1968, p.351. Lugard, op. cit., p.405ff. Ward-Price, op. cit., p.151. Buell, op. cit., vol. I, p.659. A.G.Hopkins, An Economic History of West Africa, London, 1973, p. 230. Peter Kilby, ‘African labour productivity reconsidered’, Economic Journal 71(1961), 271–93, see p.280. Ibid., 280–6. See Ekundare, Richard O., An Economic History of Nigeria, London, 1974. Crowder, op. cit., p.351; Agbala, op. cit. 339–41. Buell, op. cit., p.658. Ibid. Lugard, op. cit., p.391. Ibid., p.411. Such views were very widely held. In 1912, in the Congo, for instance, a committee of Catholic Bishops appointed to protect the interests of Congolese Africans by the Belgian Government warmly supported the imposition of forced labour on the blacks ‘in order to secure the modification of their mentality, and to bring them to realize their duty as civilized people’. Diocesan Magazine, Western Equatorial Africa (July 1912), p.13, quoted in Lugard, op. cit., p.411. Ibid. Buell, op. cit., p.659. G.O.Ogunremi, ‘Pre-colonial transport in Nigeria’, unpublished PhD Dissertation, University of Birmingham, 1973, pp.52–3. CO/520/12, Moor to CO, 7/7/01. The italics are mine. Walter Rodney, ‘Slavery and other forms of social oppression in the Upper Guinea Coast in the context of the Atlantic slave trade’, Journal of African History (1966). One must, however, note here an ingenious exception to this general picture. Frank Hives encountered in the Imo River Country in 1902, a scheme for enslaving women and recruiting them forcibly into organized


68. 69. 70. 71.

72. 73.

prostitution for the benefit of their captors. In this case, such women were chattels. Hives and Lumley, op. cit., pp. 82–8. CO/520/121, ‘Memorandum by F.D. Lugard on the Native House Rule Ordinance’, dated 20/5/1912. CO/520/107, ‘House Rule Ordinance’, minutes by Sir Percy Anderson, 18/12/1911. Ibid. ‘The House’ here refers to the Delta Trading House which also doubled as a village ward. A.M.Hay, ‘The development of Road Transport in Nigeria, 1900– 1940’, Journal of Transport History, New Series, 1, 2(Sept., 1971), 99. Hopkins, op. cit., pp.194–5. Buell, op. cit., pp.657–8.

Selected Bibliography

BOOKS Adedeji, A. and Rowland, L. eds., Management Problems of Rapid Urbanization in Nigeria: The Challenge of Governments and Local Authorities, University of Ife Press, 1973. Aderibigbe, A.A., ed., Lagos: The Development of an African City, Longman, 1976. Adetoro, J.E., Handbook of Education in Nigeria, Ibadan, African Education Press, 1966. Adewoye, O., The Judicial System in Southern Nigeria, 1815–1954, Longman, London, 1978. Afigbo, A.E., The Warrant Chiefs: Indirect Rule in Southeastern Nigeria, 1891–1929, London, 1929. Afigbo, A.E., Studies in Igbo History, Longman, London, 1979. Aguda, T.A., Principles of Practice and Procedure in Civil Actions in the High Courts of Nigeria, London, 1976. Aguolu, Christian C., Nigeria: A Comprehensive Bibliography in the Humanities and Social Sciences, 1900–1971, Boston, 1973. Ajaegbu, H.I., Urban and Rural Development in Nigeria, London, 1976. Ajayi, J.F.A., Milestones in Nigerian History, Ibadan, University Press, 1962. Ajayi, J.F.A. and Smith, R.S., Yoruba Warfare in the 19th Century, Cambridge, 1964. Ajayi, J.F.A., Christian Missions in Nigeria, 1841–1891, Longman, London, 1965. Ajayi, J.F.A. and Crowder, M., eds., History of West Africa, Vol. One, XIV, Longman, 2nd edition, 1976. Ajayi, J.F.A. and Tamuno, T.N., eds., The University of Ibadan 1948– 1973: A History of the First Twenty-Five Years, Ibadan, University Press, 1973. Akiyemi, A.B., Federalism and Foreign Policy: The Nigerian Experience, Ibadan, 1974. Akintoye, S.A., Ten Years of the University of Ife, 1962–1972, University of Ife Press, 1973. Akintoye, S.A., Revolution and Power Politics in Yorubaland 1840–1893: Ibadan Expansion and the Rise of Ekitiparapo, London, Ibadan, History Series, 1971.


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Ottenberg, Simon, “The Development of Credit Associations in the Changing Economy of the Afikpo Igbo,” Africa, 32, July 1968, 237– 52. Perham, M., “A Re-Statement of Indirect Rule,” Africa, vii, 3, 1934. Perham, M., “Some Problems of Indirect Rule in Africa,” Journal of the Royal Society of Arts, May 18, 1934. Post, K.W.J., “Nigeria: Two Years After Independence,” World Today, 18, 468–478 and 523–532, 1962. Philips, E., “Egba at Abeokuta: Acculturation and Political Change, 1830l870,” Journal of African History, 10, No. 1, 117–31, 1969. Robinson, K., “The Making of British Nigeria,” The Journal of African History, ii, 2, 1961. Ryder, A.F.C., “The Benin Missions,” JHSN, ii, 2, December 1961. Ryder, A.F.C., “Missionary Activities in the Kingdom of Warri to the Nineteenth Century,” JHSN, ii, 1, December 1960. Smith, R., “Lagos Consulate, 1851–1861: An Outline,” Journal of African History, 15, No. 3, 393–416, 1974. Tamuno, T.N., “Separatist Agitations in Nigeria Since 1914,” Journal of Modern African Studies, 8, 563–84, December 1970. Tignor, R.L., “Colonial Chiefs in Chiefless Societies,” Journal of Modern African Studies, 9, 3, 1971. Thompson, H.N., “The Forests of Southern Nigeria,” JAS, Vol. 10, 1910– 11. Varma, S.N., “National Unity and Political Stability in Nigeria,” International Studies, 4, 265–280, 1963. Wallis, L.G., “The Public Service Commission in Nigeria,” Civilisations, 10, 233–238, 1960. Williams, D., “Nigeria’s Magna Carta,” Optima, 10, 81–85, 1960. THESES AND DISSERTATIONS Ahanotu, Austin Metumara, “The Economics and Politics of Religion: A Study of the Development of the Spirit of Igbo Spirit of Enterprise, 1800–1955.” (Ph.D. dissertation), University of California, Los Angeles, California, 1970. Adewoye, O., The Legal Profession in Southern Nigeria, 1863–1943 (Ph.D. dissertation), Columbia, New York, 1968. Aderibigbe, A.A.B., The Expansion of the Lagos Protectorate, 1863– 1900 (Ph.D. dissertation), London, 1959. Afigbo, A.E., The Warrant Chief System in Eastern Nigeria, 1900–1929 (Ph.D. dissertation), Ibadan, 1964. Agiri, B.A., Development of Local Government in Ogbomoso, 1850– 1950 (M.A. thesis), Ibadan, 1966. Akintoye, S.A., The Ekiti-Parapo and the Kiriji War (Ph.D. dissertation), Ibadan, 1966.

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INDEX

Aba Improvement Union, 159 Abiriba Communal Improvement Union (ACIP), 160, 161, 163, 164 Abo Obuchili Osimili, 23–7 Achebe, Chinua, 162 Adams, John, 205, 208 Adeniran, M.O., 136 Afikpo Clan Union, 157–61, 159, 160 Afikpo Town Welfare Association, 155, 157. 161, 162 Afolabi, P.A., 154 African Times, 111 Agbebi, Mojola, 103 Aguata Progressive Union, 160 Akassa Raid, 213 Akerele, Oni, 155 Akintola, 167 Akitoye, 211 Alexander, C.W., 85–9 Allah-Magani, Malam S.K., 137 Allen, William, 29 Anderson, Sir Percy, 237 Anene, Joseph Christopher Okwodili, 7–18 Anglo-Ijebu crisis, 115 Antelope (gunboat), 47–48, 60 Anti-Slavery and Aborigines’ Protection Society, 227, 236 Anyiam, Fred, 154 Archibong, King, 51, 54

Arnett, 85–88 Arochukwu Union, 161,165 Arondizuogo Union, 163 Ascension Island, 202 Ashby Committee, 144 Ata Ekalaga, 24 Augusto, 127 Awka District Union, 155 Awo Omama Patriotic Union, 160 Awolowu, Obafemi, 155, 156, 165 Azikiwe, Dr., 154, 167 Baikie, William Balfour, 22, 204 Balewa, A.T., 134 banking, 160–4 Bannerman brothers, 178 Beecroft, John, 28, 50, 202, 208, 210,211 Bende Divisional Union, 165 Benin Community, 153 Benjamin, J. Blackwell, 103–104, 112 Benue River, 22, 26 Bight’s Division, 201 Biobaku, S.O., 9, 11, 168 Blaize, Richard Beale, 103,106 Blyden, E.W., 108 Boards of Education, 131–5 Bold, Edward, 40–4, 55 Bourdillion, Sir Bernard, 184 Bower, R.C., 116–20 British policy: 263

264 INDEX

early, 173–7; eco-nomic development, 182, 184; education, 183; racial discrimi-nation, 176–83, 188; slave trade, 38–2; trusteeship, 186 Bryce, Lord, 226–8 Buell, R.L., 233, 235, 238 Burton, Sir Richard, 173 Calabar, 35–37 Calabar Ogoja Rivers State, 166 Campbell, Robert, 104 Carr, Henry, 127–31, 177, 188 carrier labour, 223–8 Carter, G.T., 107, 115–19 casting technique, 26 census proposals, 92–6 Central Water Transport Authority, 31 Chad, Lake, 26 Chamberlain, Joseph, 180, 219–21 civil service: African exclusion, 179–83; African recruitment, 175, 177– 9, 188–91; break up of, 194 Cole, William, 21 Colonial Development & Welfare Act (1940), 127, 186 Compagnie Française d’ Afrique Occidentale (CFAO), 2 constitution changes, 194 Copland-Crawford, W.E.B., 77 Council of Rivers Chiefs, 166 Couzens, A.H., 134 cowries (as currency), 24 Creek Town, 40, 41–7 Crewe-Read, 228 Cromer, Lord, 226 Cross River, see Rio Real Crowther, Samuel Ajayi, 25, 204

currency, 3, 58; cowries, 21; manillas, 233 Dappo, Prince, 210 Davidson, J., 77, 81 Denis Memorial Grammar School, 129–3 Dike, K.O., 9,11 direct taxation, see Native Revenue Ordinance Docemo (Dosunmu), 211 doctors, recruitment of, 179–81 Duke, Antera, 58 Duke, Ephraim, 42, 48–3 Duke Town (Atakpa), 40–4, 42, 50, 52, 56 Eagle and Lagos Critic, 104–105 Eastern Nigerian Historical Research Scheme, 13 Eastern Provinces, NRO in, 80–4 economic history, 1–3 Edgerley, Rev., 46–47 Edo National Union, 153 education: British policy, 183–5; by ethnic unions, 160–6; see also Nigeria Union of Teachers Education Ordinance (1882), 113, 114; (1948), 131, 132 Efik city states, 39–4; see also under individual names Efut people, 56 Egba Society, 153 Egba Women’s Union, 160, 161 Egbado Union, 153 Egbe Omo Oduduwa, 153, 154–8, 156–60, 161, 164, 165, 166, 167 Egbe Oyo Parapo (Oyo Peoples Party), 166

INDEX 265

Egbo society, 57–62 Egerton, Sir Walter, 92, 227, 228, 237 Eluwa, B., 162 Epelle,E.M.T.,13 Esua, E.E., 127–31, 129, 132–6, 138–3, 144 ethnic unions: as political groups, 164–70; cultural heritage, 163–7; education by, 161–5; financial support of, 157–61; organisation of, 155–9; origins of, 151–8; rivalry between, 168–2; social functions of, 158–3 exports, 73, 209 ‘Extended Scale’ salaries, 144 Eyamba (as title), 59–3 Eyamba, King, 49, 50, 51 Eyo Honesty family, 41–7, 50 Ezi, F.W., 130,139 Fernando Po, 201–202 fishing, 27–28 Foot Committee, 190–3 Freeman, Thomas Birch, 204 Glover, Sir John Hawley, 196–8 Goldie, Sir George, 212, 214 Gowers, W.F., 77 Griffith, W.B., 104, 178 Hamilton-Whyte Negotiating Committee, 144 Hanitch, J.V., 78 Harcourt, L., 74, 75–77 Hart Commission, 51–5, 59 Hausa (language), 24 Henshaw Town (Nsidung), 40 Hives, Frank, 223 Hope Waddell Institute, 44 Hopkins, A.G., 233 Hussey, E.J.R., 126–30

Ibadan, University of, 13–14 Ibadan University College, 9, 10, 11,188 Ibiam, Francis Akanu, 154 Ibibio, 37, 63 Ibibio Welfare Union (Ibibio State Union), 153, 162, 166 Ibikunle, A.O., 137 Ibo Day, 159 Ibo National Secondary Schools, 162 Ibo State Union (Ibo Federal Union), 153–9, 161, 162, 165, 167, 168 Igbo improvement unions, 154, 155, 157, 159, 161, 163–7 Ijo Rivers Peoples League, 166 Ikoko, A., 133, 134, 138 imports, 73, 209 Indirect Rule, 71–4, 195 Institute of Administration, 196 International Labour Organisation (ILO), 133–7 Iwe lrohin Eko, 106, 114 Ja Ja, 213 Jackson, John Payne, 106, 107–11, 114, 115, 117–21 Jeffreys, M.D.W., 21, 44, 92 John Holt Ltd., 2, 31 Johnston, Sir Harry, 213 Kainji Dam, 31 Kearne, J., 135, 136 Kilby, Peter, 233 King, V.T., 104 Kosoko, 211 labour, forced, 211–24; as carriers, 223–8; for construction, 227–32, 233, 234; for mining, 231, 233, 234; justification for, 234–6;

266 INDEX

ser-vice conditions, 231–5; see also slave trade Lagos, 101, 102, 112; and slave trade, 208; attack on, 211–13; railway terminal at, 117–21; University of, 168 Lagos Observer, 103–104, 111–16, 114 Lagos Standard, 109–13, 114, 115, 117, 120 Lagos Times, 103, 106, 112, 113, 114 Lagos Weekly Record, 107–11, 117, 119–3 Lagos Weekly Times, 106–10 Lagos Youth Movement, 184 Laird, Macgregor, 24, 28, 204, 206, 212 Land Perpetual Succession Ordinance (1946), 158 Lander, Richard and John, 50, 204 law and order, 4 Leake, Dr. Martin, 21 Lever, William H., 219 Lucas, J.O., 126, 130, 141 Lugard, Lady, 21 Lugard, Sir Frederick, 71–5, 73– 77, 180, 226 Lynch, F.P., 80 Lynslager, 47–48 Macaulay, Herbert, 177 Macaulay, Owen Emerick, 105 Macgregor, William, 120 malaria, 30, 176, 204 manillas (as currency), 233 Marinho, J.J., 181 Marke, P.Adolphus, 105 markets, central, 23 Mason, Victor P., 110 Master and Servant Proclamations (1901 & 1903), 221 Mbadiwe, K.O., 167

McCallum, 119–3 medical officers, recruitment of, 179–81 Meek, C.K., 21 Melville Jones, Bishop, 132 Mirror, 105 military operations, 225–7 Milner, Lord, 226 missionaries, 175, 204; and NUT, 130–8; in Calabar, 51; in Hen- shaw Town, 53; in Old Town, 46 Moko, 35, 37 Moor, Sir Ralph, 236 Morehouse, H.C., 80 Morley, Ralph, 133 Morris Scale (teachers’ payments), 132, 143 Moyne Commission, 185 National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC), 166, 167 National Electric Power Authority (NEPA), 31 Native Administrations, 83–8 Native Court Warrants, 92–5 Native House Rule Ordinance (1901), 221, 224, 236, 237 Native Labour Ordinance (1902), 231 Native Revenue Ordinance (NRO): extension to Eastern Provinces, 78–93; implementation, 233–5; origin, 71–6; transfer to South-ern Provinces, 73–78 Navy, British: and Ja Ja, 213–15; and slave trade, 38, 205–10; influence of, 38, 209–14; movements of, 200–203;

INDEX 267

warships role, 203–205 Netherlands Engineering Consultants (NEDECO), 30–4 newspapers, 4, 101–102; and politics, 111–23; see also under individual names Nicholls, Edward, 202 Nicholls, Henry, 42, 45, 49, 55 Niger, derivation of name, 21–4 Niger Coast Protectorate, 220 Niger river, importance of, 22, 27– 3 Nigeria, derivation of name, 21 Nigeria Union of Teachers (NUT): achievements, 140–9; and governments, 126–35; and missions, 132–8; development of, 123–9; problems with teachers, 135–43 Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology, 188 Nigerianization policy, 188–96 Njemanze, Johnson Osuji, 153 Njoku, Eni, 168 Nkwerre Aborigines Union, 163 Northern Teachers Association, 133, 134 Northernization Implementation Committee, 196 Nyong, A., 126, 127 Obi, Z.C., 154 oil industry, 3, 38, 210 Oil Rivers Protectorate, 220 Okoho family, 51–6 Old Calabar Provincial Union, 162 Old Town (Obutong), 40, 44–48 Oldfield, R.A.K., 24, 204, 212 Onitsha Improvement Union, 153, 154, 158, 160, 167 Onwu, S.E., 153 Opobo, 213 Otu, Edo, 153, 164, 166 Owen, W.F.W., 201

Owerri Improvement Union, 153, 158 Oyo: bombardment, 116–20; dis-turbances, 76–77 Oyo Progressive Union, 154, 166 Palmer, Sir Herbert Richmond, 84– 6, 85 Park, Mungo, 204 Patterson-Zochonis, 2 Payne, Otumba, 175 Pepple, Anna, 208, 210 Pepple, William Dappa, 210 Phillips, J.R., 214 Phillipson/Adeobo Commission, 192–5 pre-Egbo government, 62–6 Qua people, 55–9 quinine, 30, 176, 204 racial discrimination, 177, 180–2, 188 railway construction, 228–30 Railway Terminus controversy, 117–21 Ransome-Kuti, I.O., 126, 128, 135, 142 religious activities, traditional, 6, 28 Reporter, 110–14 Richards Consitution, 190 Rio Real, 35–37 rivers, navigable, 201 Rivers Combined People’s Union, 161 road construction, 228 Roads and Creeks Proclamation (1903), 221, 228, 234, 237 Robbins, Willy Tom, 45–47 Roberts, Black, 45 routes, overland, 24–9, 27

268 INDEX

Royal Niger Company, 21, 212, 213, 220 Ruxton, U.F.H., 81–7, 89–2 St. Helena, 202 Scott, Francis, 221 Shaw, Flora, 21 Slave Dealing Proclamation (1901), 236 slave trade, 38–2, 49, 205–10, 235– 9; Act of Abolition (1807), 206, 207 social history, 3–6 Société Commerciale de l’Ouest Africaine (SCOA), 2 Southern Nigeria, definition of area, 220–2 Spectator, 110 sports, as social history, 5 Sudan Interior Mission, 133–7 Tabor, F.L., 83–6 Taiwo, C.O., 155 Tamuno, T.N., 218–20 taxation, direct, see Native Revenue Ordinance teachers, see Nigeria Union of Teachers Ten-Year Development Plan, 187–9 Thomas, Andrew W., 106 Thomas, T.S. 84 Thompson, Sir Graeme, 80 Thornton, A.P., 186–8 Tomlinson, G.J.F., 88–89, 90 trusteeship policy, 186 Tryon, 208, 210 United Africa Company, 2, 31 United Missionaries Society, 132–6 United Trading Company, 2 Universal Primary Education Act (1958), 130

Uratta Improvement Union, 153, 167 Urhobo Brotherly Society (Urhurbo Progress Union), 153, 162 Utchay, T.K., 165 Waddell, Hope, 40, 46, 47 wages, African labour, 233 Walwyn Commission, 188 Warrant Chiefs, 92–5 Warri National Union, 166 Wasp, 111 Weir, A.L., 92–6 West African Medical Service, 179-78 West African Students’ Union (WASU), 143,188 West Indian riots (1935–7), 185 Williams, George Alfred, 114 Women’s Riot (1929), 71, 93–7 Yaba Higher College, 183 Yaba students, 129 Yoruba traditions, 114–18 Yorubaland, occupation of, 115–19 Young Calabar Movement, 54

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