Truth be told, I was not even supposed to write this article. But sometimes silence becomes difficult, especially when one sees how easily genuine service to the country is ignored while questionable figures are celebrated with national honours.
Within my own capacity as a crime reporter of international repute, I have done my little part to serve Nigeria. Over the years, I supplied intelligence reports that could have helped protect the country. Unfortunately, many of those reports were ignored or left unattended. Yet, despite that disappointment, I can confidently say that I have rendered more service to Nigeria than many individuals who today proudly wear national honours on their chests.
Let me give a simple example.
About fifteen years ago, when I was deeply involved in investigative journalism in Europe, I received credible intelligence that a parcel containing narcotics was being shipped into Nigeria. Immediately, I passed the information to the relevant anti-narcotics agency, the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA). The shipment was tracked, monitored and carefully followed. Everything appeared to be in place for the suspects to be caught red-handed.
But what eventually happened was shocking. The officers handling the investigation allegedly allowed the drug traffickers to collect the consignment and disappear. Just like that, the entire case quietly died.
Frankly speaking, if such an incident had happened today under the leadership of Buba Marwa, who currently heads the NDLEA, the suspect would most likely be cooling his feet in prison by now.
Another incident still remains fresh in my memory. Many Nigerians may not even know that in 2010, a shipment of weapons meant for terrorists in the northern part of Nigeria was secretly sent to Tin Can Island Port by elements linked to the government of Iran.
I received the intelligence and immediately alerted trusted contacts in Nigeria. Acting on that information, authorities intercepted the dangerous cargo before it could fall into the wrong hands.
On July 15, 2010, Nigerian security agencies intercepted 13 containers of weapons at Tin Can Island Port. The shipment contained about 240 tons of ammunition, including 107mm rockets, mortar shells of different calibres, grenades and thousands of rounds of ammunition. The cargo had been falsely declared as building materials.
The shipment had been transported by the French shipping company CMA CGM and was linked to a Tehran-based firm called Behineh Trading Co. The operation violated United Nations Security Council Resolution 1747, which prohibits the export of arms from Iran.
Later investigations revealed that individuals connected to the Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Qods Force were involved. Several of them were eventually sanctioned by the European Union, the United Nations, and the United States for their roles in the illicit arms transaction.
If I had behaved like the Roman emperor Nero, who was said to be playing the fiddle while Rome was burning, and acted like Nasir El‑Rufai, who allegedly had the confession of the policeman who abducted and killed an innocent social media activist in his state yet kept silent, and I had also kept quiet and allowed that shipment to slip through unnoticed, terrorists could have gained access to weapons capable of killing countless innocent Nigerians.
This is why many citizens find it difficult to understand the logic behind Nigeria’s national honours system.
Today, people receive prestigious awards largely because they are politicians or because they have influence in government. Many of them cannot even explain the source of their wealth. Their only known address is politics.
National honours are supposed to recognise sacrifice, patriotism and exceptional service to the country. They should be reserved for Nigerians who risk their lives, protect the nation, or quietly contribute to its survival.
But in Nigeria, the story often appears different.
True patriotism is not about wearing expensive agbada sewn with taxpayers’ money or reading long citations at public ceremonies. Real honour comes from selfless service to the country—not from becoming billionaires overnight simply because one has access to the national treasury.
The truth must be told: Nigeria’s national honours should go to those who truly deserve them. National awards must recognise sacrifice and genuine service to Nigeria, not political privilege.
May the bad side of Nigeria never be our portion.
Mogaji Wole Arisekola, Publisher of The Street Journal newspaper, writes from Ibadan.
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