Should We Erase Our History to Build a Better Future?

The demolished Assizes Court of West Africa on Tinubu Square, Lagos during the colonial era.

And I asked myself: Must we destroy the evidence of our past to celebrate our freedom from it? Preserving a colonial building does not mean we celebrate colonialism. It just means we acknowledge that this was part of our history. Whether we like it or not, it happened. I heard that even the fountain that replaced the courthouse is not working. We lost an important historical building for a fountain that does not function. The list goes on and on.

On Tuesday, I listened to former President Olusegun Obasanjo at Harvard University Institute of Politics and Centre for African Studies. He came to talk about peacekeeping in Africa and beyond, but something he said about our identity and history stuck with me. Many young Nigerians attended, including quite a number from the diaspora.

A young man, about 26 years old, asked a question about the Nigerian Civil War. He wanted to know whose account of the war was correct, since people have different versions of what happened. As he spoke, I felt he was trying to blame one ethnic group over another, linked to the current heated politics. President Obasanjo was not having it!

He shared examples of brave acts by people from different ethnic groups and also troubling acts by those same groups. He even shared a story of how a Hausa man, Hassan Katsina, saved him from an assassination plot. Then he said something I will remember for a long time. “There are only two types of Nigerians: good Nigerians and bad Nigerians. Not good tribes and bad tribes.” I thought that was deep.

But I kept thinking about that young man. He is 26 and was not born when the civil war happened. So, whose version of history is he listening to? His grandfather’s? His parents’? Someone who lived through the war? Or maybe something he read on social media? What if the version he knows is incomplete or influenced by someone’s personal feelings? How would he know? This is why many like me worry about how we view history in Nigeria.

We talk a lot. We argue endlessly about our past, our leaders, the civil war, ethnicity, corruption, and so on. But how much do we really document and, more importantly, how much do we learn so we do not keep making the same mistakes? History is not just about remembering what happened. It is about understanding why it happened, what went wrong, what worked, and how we can improve. We cannot keep making the same mistakes and expect different results. As President Obasanjo spoke about peacekeeping in Africa, I thought about Nigeria. We have played important roles in keeping peace in other countries, but today we struggle with insecurity and divisions within our own borders. Surely, understanding our history must be part of finding lasting solutions.

And I found myself asking, why are we not doing more of this in Nigeria? Our history did not start from our independence in 1960. I heard a story about the old courthouse at Tinubu Square, near Kakawa Street on Lagos Island. The site once held the Court of Assizes, a key part of our judicial history during colonial times. The building was torn down and replaced with a fountain to celebrate Nigeria’s independence.

Not long ago, I visited Concord, Massachusetts and spent some time at the historic Colonial Inn, a building from 1716. Nearby, British forces and American colonial militias fought during the Revolutionary War in 1775. The area is well preserved, with buildings, monuments, and records that tell the story of what happened. I stood there taking it all in. Here is a country preserving a history that is over 250 years old. Generations have come and gone, but the story remains accessible. Of course, people may disagree on how to interpret historical events. But the evidence is there to be examined.

And I found myself asking, why are we not doing more of this in Nigeria? Our history did not start from our independence in 1960. I heard about the old courthouse at Tinubu Square. This site once housed the Court of Assizes, an important part of our judicial history during colonial rule. The building was demolished and replaced with a fountain celebrating Nigeria’s independence. A friend told me that Professor Wole Soyinka has also criticized the loss of that historic building. The argument was that we needed to forget colonial rule, so we replaced the site with a fountain!

And I asked myself: Must we destroy the evidence of our past to celebrate our freedom from it? Surely, preserving a colonial building does not mean celebrating colonialism. It just means acknowledging that this was part of our history. Whether we like it or not, it happened. I heard that even the fountain that replaced the courthouse does not work. We lost an important historical building for a fountain that is not functional. The list goes on and on.

In the West, they have lectures on the life of Christopher Marlowe and William Shakespeare, born in 1564! At one of the lectures, I felt an inner voice asking how many times I have attended or been invited to a lecture on the life of any outstanding African born even 100 years ago, but here I was listening with full attention to this lecture. Sometimes we are too eager to move on, to forget, and to start fresh without asking ourselves what we should learn from the past.

What about the ordinary Nigerians who lived through those difficult years? The mothers, teachers, civil servants, journalists, and families whose lives were changed forever? Who is recording their stories? Who is listening to them? And who is making sure that the next generation has access to these accounts? We need to preserve our history, especially the difficult and uncomfortable parts.

We forget that progress is often about improving on yesterday, not pretending yesterday never happened. We are losing our living history and the generation that witnessed some of the most important periods in Nigeria’s history. Those who experienced independence, the civil war, and the early years of military rule are getting older. Many have already passed away. Every time one of them dies, we risk losing stories that may never have been documented. These people are living libraries. And I am not only talking about former presidents, governors, or military leaders.

What about the ordinary Nigerians who lived through those tough times? The mothers, teachers, civil servants, journalists, and families whose lives changed forever? Who is recording their stories? Who is listening to them? And who is ensuring that the next generation has access to these accounts? We need to preserve our history, especially the difficult and uncomfortable parts. Not to keep old wounds open or pass blame from one generation to another, but to understand how we got here and what we must do differently.

I keep thinking about that young man at Harvard and President Obasanjo’s response. The young man whispered to those around him: “He didn’t answer my question,” and someone else said “Our African parents avoid uncomfortable truths with long tales and proverbs.” I smiled. Will they act differently when they become elders? We owe future generations the truth about our history, not just the version that suits our beliefs, families, or ethnic ties. Because if we truly want a better Nigeria, we must learn from the Nigeria that came before us. We cannot erase our past and then expect to learn from it.

By the way, I paid $15 to the tour guide to learn about the revolutionary war, and my brunch at the Colonial Inn cost $65. There is money to be made from history and tourism.