The Ministry of Selective Memory: A Field Guide to Government Communication, Bwala Edition
By James
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In the ever-expanding theatre of Nigerian politics, a curious new department appears to have opened its doors: The Ministry of Selective Memory. Its unofficial motto seems to be simple: what was said yesterday can always be denied today.
The most recent ambassador of this noble tradition is Daniel Bwala, currently serving as Special Adviser on Policy Communication to Bola Tinubu.
The job description is delicate. It requires the rare ability to look directly into a camera and politely disagree with one’s own past. It also demands a remarkable level of emotional resilience, because the past, unlike many political friendships, has a stubborn habit of resurfacing.
A recent demonstration of this demanding craft unfolded during Bwala’s appearance on Head to Head, the combative global interview show hosted by Mehdi Hasan on Al Jazeera.
The programme set out to examine the state of Nigeria under Tinubu’s “Renewed Hope” agenda. What viewers unexpectedly witnessed instead was a remarkable tutorial in what might be called renewed memory management.
Or, more bluntly, political amnesia.
During the discussion, Hasan confronted Bwala with statements he had reportedly made during the fevered campaign season, leading to the 2023 Nigerian presidential election, when he served as an energetic spokesman for Atiku Abubakar and the Peoples Democratic Party.
In those days, loquacious Bwala was not merely critical of Tinubu and the All Progressives Congress, APC. He was a one-man prosecutorial task force. Television studios trembled with his warnings. His rhetoric carried the urgency of a man convinced that the republic itself was in danger.
Yet politics, like certain rivers in the dry season, changes course quickly.
Today, Bwala stands not as a prosecutor but as one of the chief defenders of the administration he once interrogated with such ferocity.
This transformation alone would not be remarkable. Nigerian politics has long been hospitable to ideological migration. Yesterday’s opponent often becomes tomorrow’s ally.
But what happened next on Al Jazeera was something far more fascinating.
Confronted with past allegations attributed to him, Bwala wilted but still boldly offered the now-famous response:
“I never said that.”
It is a magnificent phrase. Brief. Efficient. Portable. It can be deployed in press conferences, television studios, or family WhatsApp groups with equal effectiveness.
The beauty of the phrase lies in its simplicity. It requires no explanation, no apology, and no archaeological expedition into the past.
You simply say it, and hope the Internet is feeling merciful.
To his credit, though caught off-guard because the Internet did not suffer any Nigerian glitch while recalling his past, Bwala attempted a philosophical justification. At the time he made those remarks, he explained, he was in the opposition.
And the duty of the opposition, he reminded viewers, is to oppose.
This is true. Opposition politics exists to challenge those in power (or to deceive gullible citizens?).
What it does not normally require is the later denial of statements that remain preserved in the fossil record of television broadcasts and digital archives.
Yet Nigeria is a land of innovation.
So, perhaps, we are witnessing the birth of a new political doctrine: Oppose vigorously, remember selectively.
But beneath the comedy lies a darker possibility, one that makes the entire episode look less accidental and more like a carefully staged irony.
Some observers have begun to wonder whether President Tinubu himself might be enjoying a quiet private joke.
After all, appointing a man who once attacked you ferociously and then watching him defend you publicly can produce a certain poetic satisfaction.
It is the political equivalent of inviting your former prosecutor to become your lawyer, and then reminding him, every day, who signs the salary cheque.
One cannot help but suspect that somewhere in the corridors of power, a mischievous calculation may have been at work.
Give the fiercest critic a microphone. Give him the responsibility of defending the very man he once accused. And then wait patiently for the day when he will have to swallow his own words on international television.
In everyday language, this is known as making a man eat his vomit in public to protect his bread. If that was indeed the strategy, the Al Jazeera interview may have delivered the moment perfectly.
And if anyone doubts the president’s sense of political irony, there is another recent example that raises eyebrows.
Consider the president’s seeming mockery of Reno Omokri, another once-vocal critic who famously described him as a “drug baron” during the turbulence of political debate.
Where has fate now positioned him?
In a twist worthy of political satire, he has reportedly been posted as an ambassador to Mexico City in Mexico, a country globally synonymous, rightly or wrongly, with the shadowy geography of narcotics cartels.
One might call that diplomacy. Others might call it irony served cold.
In this curious theatre, critics do not merely cross over. They sometimes find themselves placed in roles that echo their own past accusations in ways that only the playwright of power could fully appreciate.
But beyond the humour and the political poetry lies a serious issue.
Government communication is not supposed to function as a circus of convenient memory. A presidential spokesman carries the burden of credibility. His words must reassure citizens that the state speaks with seriousness and integrity.
When such a spokesman appears to quarrel with his own documented past, that credibility begins to crack.
And when credibility cracks, public trust begins to leak out of the system like air from a punctured tyre. Politics will always contain drama. But governance requires something sturdier than drama. It requires truth that survives longer than the election season.
Otherwise, the next time a government spokesman stands before the cameras, citizens may listen politely, but they will also quietly check the archives.
