General Ishola Williams (rtd) rose through the ranks to become the commandant of Army Signals, Commander of Training and Doctrine (TRADOC) and Chief of Defence Training and Planning, from where he left the Army in July 1993. He then embarked on a new career as a political and social activist. In this interview, he spoke about life before he joined the military, his career and corruption in Nigeria.
Let’s begin by asking about life before you joined the military.
My grandfather and father were born in Lagos. That’s where I was also born. I grew up there and attended primary and secondary schools. I attended Kings College, Lagos, after which I worked in the Nigerian Tobacco Company as a manager-in-training for one year; then I saw an advert in the newspaper asking for young people who wanted to join the military.
I left Kings College in 1962 and worked in the tobacco company in the whole of 1963. At that time, there were plenty jobs around, so they were looking for people with school certificates, not those with university degrees, who were even very rare. I wouldn’t say I liked the job, especially sitting behind the desk as a manager and things like that, but it was a career opening.
I followed the advert about recruitment into the Army, because in our house we had a ‘radio box’ fixed to the wall. I used to wonder how somebody would sit somewhere and talk through a box and you would hear him but could not talk back. I wondered what was behind that box. That was the beginning of my interest in electronics and telecommunication.
So, when I saw the advert and they included all the various courses in the Army, including Signals and described what it was about, I said I would like to find out what was behind that box. As a joke, I applied and did not even tell my parents or anybody.
We sat for an exam, and suddenly, they said I passed and should come over to Kaduna. At that time, I didn’t know what to tell my father because in the South-west here, only rascals and “no-gooders” joined the military. There was no way you could explain to them that there was a difference between officers and soldiers. So, I just left quietly for Kaduna.
I did their interview for one week while still working in the tobacco company, but I took a leave. Few weeks after, they said I passed. In January 1964, I got a telegram message stating that I should report to Kaduna. That was the beginning of my career.
Did you tell your parents that you were leaving the tobacco company?
No. I didn’t tell my father, even when I was admitted, but I had to tell my mother and she prayed. I told her not to worry as I would be alright and left for Kaduna. For months, my father did not know where I was.
Was that the Nigerian Defense Academy in Kaduna?
At that time, they were not sure whether they were going to start a Defense Academy or not. We were just going to go through the normal military training and they would decide whether we would go to Sandhurst or somewhere for a cadet training. But they had the idea that the best thing was for us to start our own Academy and our set could be the pioneer cadets.
Initially, they were thinking of either Canada or India, and at the end, they decided that India would come in and help set up the Academy because they had a similar setup.
There was also a decision on whether we could stay there and get a degree. While they were arguing about that, it was decided that the Academy should be attached to the University of Ibadan so that we could get a certificate that could be equivalent to A-Level. We could also go to any similar university in Nigeria. It was also thought that they could attach the Academy to the Ahmadu Bello University. But there were officers at the senior level who wondered what they needed a degree for since they were soldiers etc. They couldn’t see far enough; then the civil war came in 1967, while we were arguing about whether to continue or not.
Luckily, we had finished our exams in the University of Ibadan and they said we had gotten some military training as cadets, which was some educational qualification, so we should just go and do the rest.
We were commissioned in March 1967 and I came into the Signals, where I was interested in right from the word go. In March, I was sent to the training school. During the civil war, I was sent to Bonny to work with General Adekunle, as my commander. I was his signal officer.
In the Mid-West they had to form another division under General Murtala Mohammed, who was the head of Signals. He was looking for officers to join him, so some of us were recalled from the various fronts to form the fulcrum of the new 82 Division that was supposed to face the forces from the South-east. That was how I ended up in that place.
What was interesting was that they had to form new battalions very quickly. And as second lieutenants, we had to be second-in-command to form the new battalion. So they gave us the field rank of captains and brought in some of our seniors to be the battalion commanders. They couldn’t find enough officers from various corps.
Sometimes the responsibility for the command rested on us who were very young people because the officers they put on top of us were not trained for the job of commanding an infantry unit needed to fight.
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So, it was baptism by fire, so to say?
Yes. That was how we ended up at the warfront, up to Onitsha, where it was a disaster crossing because there was no good planning and things like that.
There was a lot of blame game about what happened in that operation. Whose fault was it?
It was intelligence about the opponents; I don’t like to use the word, enemy because they are Nigerians like us. The intelligence we had about the opponents was very wrong.
At the Signals unit, you were supposed to know and intercept what was going on. Who would you blame for that situation?
Our senior officers were not listening. And when you are doing amphibious operations and crossing the fire, you are in a very weak position because you are sitting on top of water against somebody on land.
Were you trying to cross River Niger?
Yes. And we hadn’t got any good boat for any amphibious operation. There was only one boat they seized somewhere. At night we started crossing and they shot the captain of the boat and everything was drifting all over the place.
I was leading the battalion and we landed in the night; everything was quiet. Early in the morning, it was as if we walked into a trap. I can’t tell you how many soldiers we lost there. What I can tell you now is that the soldiers I was commanding saved my life because I was shot. They dragged me to the riverside and put me on a boat and said I must not die. That was how I crossed to the other side. I ended up in a hospital and managed to survive.
Was that the end of the war for you?
No. I was brought to Lagos, and luckily, it did not affect any part of my body seriously. It was only my hand that the bullet went through; and it did not touch the bone. After three weeks, I went back. By that time they had succeeded in crossing after making two other attempts, during which many lives were lost. (Murtala) Mohammed was very stubborn, insisting that they would cross.
Even without the resources to cross?
Yes; in spite of the losses. I rejoined them across the Niger as a brigade-major and we went on. It was then I realised what would happen to Signal Corp after the war, because most of our telecom-trained engineers were from the South-east and they all left. They needed somebody to replace them, at least for the meantime. So I was recalled in 1969, just before the war ended and sent to the United Kingdom to do a telecom engineering course.
Can you briefly talk about Murtala and Adekunle, two famous commanders you worked under?
General Adekunle was the type of person you would describe as a swashbuckling soldier. He was fearless, courageous and ready to go.
I must say, without thinking, sometimes he had a good plan. His leadership style was that nothing was impossible. He believed that he must get to where he was going. I will just say that he was a lucky commander. Many people believed he had some native charms he was using. I think he was just lucky. In wars you find commanders like that.
Would you say he was similar to Murtala? What is the difference between them?
One thing about General Murtala was that he listened to ideas. I worked with him as a signal officer before we went to war. And if he was convinced about an idea, he would push it to the end of his life. That was his type of person.
But in Onitsha, he did not listen to advice and he made a mistake with that very move. But at the same time, he was so stubborn that he would not let go unless he crossed the River Niger; and he crossed it.
Why was he not court-marshalled by the senior command if there was a strategic error?
The point is that at that time, the Nigerian Army was not the type that had a strategic plan. We had General Gowon and his colleagues who were young but wearing big ranks they hadn’t got the experience on.
Apart from peacekeeping and team operations, that was the first real war experience most of them were having. Sometimes they forgot whatever they learnt in books in staff colleges etc. That’s why they were calling it Banga Banga war, which means, “push the soldiers and they will keep fighting.”
So, the commanders were on their own as they could make their plans and move on?
What was interesting about it was that the planning, operation and everything were left to the level of brigade and battalion commanders. If you wanted to save the lives of your troops, you had to sit down and plan with them.
The other thing is that I had a very good experience as most of the people in my battalion were ex-servicemen. They used to look at me and say I did not understand what they were talking about. The men would say they had fought wars before us, including World War II and things like that, so we did not have anything to tell them. But I would tell them that the time in which they operated was different, as well as the opponents they fought. So the plans were different.
But what was wonderful is that we had the support of the people. We were given money to feed soldiers, but villagers would bring food. Sometimes we didn’t even spend a kobo.
Even in the East?
Yes. Behind the Niger. They were very generous. At that time, the Army couldn’t afford military hospitals everywhere, but the doctors and nurses we found in hospitals, and everybody, were part and parcel of the troops; and that’s why we succeeded greatly. The opponents also succeeded because they had the support of their people; if not, the war couldn’t have lasted for the time it did.
As you said, from 1969 you were suddenly pulled out to go for signal training, which was your dream. How was the training in England and your subsequent career?
I went to study Telecommunication Engineering at the Signals Telecom School in the southern part of England for about 18 months and came back immediately. When I came back, I was promoted to the rank of captain and made the commandant of our School of Signals. I served there for a long time until I was promoted to the rank of a major and I became a brigade commander. I can say that the Signal Corps I served was very lucky to have General ( Murtala)Mohammed as commander.
Was he the first commander of Signals of the Army?
Yes. After the civil war, he stayed there for a long time until he was made a Minister of Communication. He was combining the job of a signal commander and minister. He later left the corps to another senior officer, who was, to me, not fit to be commander.
I remember that at a meeting and before then, I told General Mohammad that he should make up his mind whether he wanted to remain in the Army or become a political minister; he could not combine the two. Other officers were taken aback that I could talk to him about this. He looked at me and said I was right; and immediately, he appointed one of our senior officers to be the commander of Signal Corps.
In addition to that, when I got back, we started a programme at the University of Ife, because we needed engineers and Britain was only ready to give us one vacancy every time. How could you wait for one vacancy all the time?
So, I told him to let me try Canada, Pakistan, India etc for two things: How did they train their engineers? What sort of curriculum, syllabus or training did they have? I wanted to study that. He agreed and I went round those countries, and they gave me their programmes and everything. When I came back, he asked what I wanted to do with all the stories.
I told him that I would use the curricula I got from those countries and try to design one for our country. I said the University of Ife, now Obafemi Awolowo University, could run the courses for us. I was lucky that my wife was teaching there. She is now a retired professor.
I went to the Dean of the Faculty of Science and Engineering, one Prof Ojo, and told him that we wanted him to run a course for us; not only that, we wanted to do a joint research project, not only training our officers but also a research, as they did abroad. He looked at me and asked how I wanted to do that. I said he must not give them a degree; he could call their qualification any name.
I gave him the curriculum and showed him what they could do in two years. He asked how and I explained that students didn’t stay in the university for more than six months in a year. He looked at me and the calendar and said it was true.
Are you saying that for you to achieve that in two years, soldiers would go without holidays?
Yes. We started a programme for officers in Electronics Engineering, as well as a research programme. People at the Army headquarters did not understand what was happening, but by the personality of General Murtala Mohammed, they understood.
When it was proposed to him, he said it made a lot of sense, he would see how we could convince the government. And he did. They called Chief MKO Abiola and said there was something that had to be done. Chief Abiola said the ITT could do it as they had done it for many countries.
I told Abiola that the ITT had a school in the United States that trained their engineers and suggested that we select a group of officers that would take exams and those who passed would go for the engineering and technology course.
That was how we sent a group of officers who passed the exams – two sets were sent. The ITT, through Chief Abiola, paid for their air tickets, as well as their families to stay there for two years. Both the technologists and the officers stayed there.
Is the programme still in Ife?
Trust Nigeria; maintenance is a problem.
So, it stopped?
I don’t know what the system looks like.
When did you become the commandant of Army Signals and under what circumstance?
That was in 1980/1981. I was acting because they believed I was too much of a troublemaker and things like that.
I ended up there when I got back from the Staff College in France, where I spent about two years. The European Staff College system is different from what other people have. You spend two years there to learn a lot of things.
They posted me to Jaji, as an instructor in the Command and Staff College. Then, the British Army training team was in charge of the programme; the deputy commander being a British deputy commander.
When I was promoted to the rank of a colonel, I was told to become the chief instructor of the junior cadre, but the British deputy commander said no because I had already made up my mind that I was going to change the school curriculum of the junior division, very much away from the British system to the European system with our own input.
This gentleman flew all the way to Lagos to meet the Chief of Defence Staff and told him that I wanted to disrupt the whole training system of the Army. They believed him and asked where they would put me as a colonel. Fortunately for me, the then commander of Signals was going on a course for one year, so they said I should be brought back as the acting corps commander.
Interestingly, they were doing so many things I could not accept, both as an officer, a professional and expert in my field. For example, they bought equipment we didn’t want without testing it.
I introduced a trial squadron into the Signals, such that if you wanted to buy any equipment for us, we must test it all over the country. I took part in some of the tests.
They said they wanted to buy some radio sets from the British and I said let’s do so. But after I tested it, I said we didn’t need it. I don’t want to mention the name of the then chief of staff. The poor man, who is now late, insisted that we must buy it.
I went to my office, drafted a letter and said that for record purpose he needed to sign it if he insisted that we must buy it. In the letter, it was stated that we rejected the equipment but he was forcing us to buy it. He signed it because they were going to get some kickback from it. We came across such things.
Which of the positions you held in the Army would you say was the highlight of your career?
The one that could allow me make the sort of changes I was looking for was the Chief of Defence Operations, Training and Planning. I had an opportunity even though I spent only three months there, from September to November. I had immense opportunities.
When I left TRADOC I was placed in a position to look at the whole of the armed forces from the Defence Headquarters. Gen Abacha was our head at the Ministry of Defence while General Diya was the Chief of Defence Staff. I was number three.
Surprisingly, the impression of General Abacha by many others is not the same impression I have about him.
Whenever I wanted to take an action, the permanent secretary and the chief of defence staff would say no and I would go ahead and talk to the MA( Military Assistant) to General Abacha. At one time, Abacha called me and said if I had any good idea and they didn’t accept it, I could just go straight to him.
Secondly, when I developed any budget, if others turned it down, I would push it to Abacha and he would approve it. The relationship was like that.
Were you surprised at the bad reputation he developed later and the way he handled his position as head of state?
No. You need to understand the weaknesses of your boss. Secondly, I was not the type of officer who would go to the guest house and sit there with them. I would do my job and go home; and you would not see me till the next morning.
Why did you last only three months as the Chief of Defence Operations, Training and Policy?
People deliberately did a few things that made me really sad and I had to leave. I was suspecting that they were planning a coup.
A coup against who?
When Abacha became the head of state, I told them to let the person who would win election emerge, but it appeared to me that there had been an arrangement at the top level among some few officers. I don’t know whether Babangida was part of it or not, but he couldn’t control those who made up their minds that Abacha had done enough (to become) military head of state.
I later discovered that they did not even want the(June 12) election to hold. However, we conducted the election but many things happened, such as rigging. Prof Nwosu conducted that election very well. It is still the best in Nigeria till today.
Was your resignation from the Army in 1993 as Chief of Defence Operations related to your dissatisfaction with how the June 12 presidential election was handled?
No. You see, the job of a Chief of Defence Operations is very key to the operations of the armed forces, all the chief of operation officers work with you. But they still have some autonomy, which you have no control over. If we were to call the Nigerian Armed Forces the Nigerian Defence Force, there’s a difference.
I, as the Chief of Defence Operations, would have authority over the Chief of Operations of the Army, Navy and the Air Force. So, out of respect, some of them would do some of the things I wanted them to do because at the end of the day, they would discover that every step I took was for the benefit of the armed forces. So, I was working fantastically well with all the forces and the thing was progressing. I was very happy in that operation and everybody was happy.
As I said, General Abacha gave me the encouragement to be able to do that. In fact, at a time I was to be retired but he said they should leave me alone. Sometimes you need to talk to some of these senior officers because they behave as if they have no brains or strategic thinking, or have forgotten what they were taught in war colleges etc. So, sometimes you need to remind them about that.
That did not make me too popular, but I did not care, anyway. But those who saw what I was talking about accepted it.
But on the other hand, you would discover that if you were really doing your job seriously, you would have no time to think about a coup; therefore, you would leave those who were interested in it aside and do your own thing.
Are you talking about the coup that implicated Gen Diya?
No. I had already left at that time. But there’s no doubt that General Diya was ambitious. He too wanted to become a head of state. There’s nothing hidden about that. I warned him before I left. People made a mistake about General Abacha, thinking the man did not know what he was doing.
It is terrible how many officers lost their integrity because of struggle to get political appointments. And you begin to ask why they joined the military.
Being in a very senior position, was it difficult to make the decision to leave?
It was very simple. Every human being must have some basic principles in life, and if those principles are compromised, you need to get out.
Did your family, friends and associates support you?
I didn’t consult anybody. It took me three days to make up my mind. After the coup, we had a meeting.
Which coup?
The coup that brought Abacha in. It took three days before anybody could make an announcement.
After Shonekan was pushed aside?
Yes. There was a meeting about what was to be done. I did not say anything other than that they should give the person who won the election that position.
Would you say that was a kind of involvement in politics?
When we held that meeting, majority of the officers did not want the election cancelled but only three of us stood up and spoke. Others were scrambling for positions. I then decided that it was time for me to quit.
Didn’t Abacha try to persuade you since you had a good relationship with him?
He too was not sure whether he should become the head of state or not. But people like Diya and ( Jeremiah) Useni were interested in who was going to become the number two man because it was clear that Abacha was going to be the head of state.
There was a meeting of senior officers at Aso Villa with Babangida, Aikhomu, Abacha and others. That was when I knew there was no going back. The attorney-general brought out a decree that made Abacha to succeed Shonekan as head of state. Where in the world do you find a defence minister becoming number two?
When the coup happened, in Minna, Babangida came and appointed some people, such as chief of staff. Abacha flew to Minna and appointed his own people. He never attended any cabinet meeting in the Shonekan government.
Sometimes we behave as if we don’t think, including journalists when they write stories.
What happened when you quit the Army as Chief of Defence Operations; you just went home?
No. I think I left on November 20 or so, 1993 and had to decide what I was going to do with myself. I left without any plan or preparation, even with an empty bank account.
Some people tried to help me. Somebody gave me a car but there was too much wahala with it, so I had to dump it and started taking public transport.
People offered me an office where I could sit and work for some time, while some people were trying to encourage me to be in business. One of them was trying to encourage me to be a cement distributor but I had to deposit a huge amount of money. But I had a single naira bank account, so how could I deposit a huge amount of money? There were many others like that.
Painfully, a few people in the North were ready to encourage me to engage in contracts, but my own people in the South asked where I was when my colleagues were making money. I already had it at the back of my mind that I was going to run a non-governmental organisation, but I needed money to do it. So, I told myself that if I could get a contract I could use what I got to run the organisation. I was not interested in business for the sake of making profit. That’s how I started running this organisation.
Did you get the money to start the organisation from a contract?
At that time (1993), to start a non-governmental organisation was very easy; you could get the certificate in one week. And the lawyers didn’t charge you anything, unlike now. Also, there were not many organisations working in the area of conflict management in Nigeria and Africa. And so many donors were ready to help if you could bring out a good proposal. At that time, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) did not know what to do.
So, what I did was to get some people who were working with me in TRADOC, not soldiers, but professors and others. I was trying to make TRADOC a real think tank. I said there was the need to join hands and form this organisation.
Nicely, the Ford Foundation was ready to help us. My dear brother, working with Africans with money is a big problem.
Are you still doing the NGO work?
We were doing projects, but to get people to account for the money and deliver up to the standard expected of them, even as professors, was challenging; only very few complied. Some died without accounting for the money, up to the point that I was taken to court.
By who?
By members (of the NGO) for insisting! Next time I will come as a Namibian, not a Nigerian!!
It is widely said in the media that you are a poor General; and the evidence was that you were taking public transport. How have you been able to survive after leaving the Army so abruptly? Has the non-governmental organisation been supporting you?
Many people have been wondering how I have been able to survive. I have always believed that if you have brains and are honest and straightforward, people who really want a person of character and integrity would approach you.
Also, if at a very early stage of your life you were contented with what you had and not greedy, you would always survive. While in the military, I told myself not to look at what other officers were doing because one day I would retire and would not be able to afford all those paraphernalia of office.
Furthermore, I made up my mind that if I had a house, it was going to be a bungalow, and just a few rooms for me and my family. I told myself that I was not going to stay in Victoria Island or Lekki, where ground rent would take the whole of my pension.
Where do you live now?
I live in a village back here, where I have a five-bedroom bungalow; and I am very happy with it. I don’t have high walls around my house, and the gate is low. Armed robbers visited me once but they couldn’t find anything. They found N5 in my drawer, but they took my laptop and phone.
Where did this motivation to be different come from – religion or ideology?
It is not a matter of being different, you need to cut your coat, not according to your size but according to the cloth you can afford. The Army pays a certain amount of money, so why should I live beyond that?
Since the Army has increased its pension overtime, the money has been helping me to run this organisation.
You are also associated with the fight against corruption in Nigeria. In fact, you were at onetime head of the Transparency International. What have you learned about corruption in Nigeria? How bad is the problem and what have you done to help us deal with it?
We live in an era of primitive accumulation, so it is difficult to find people who are not greedy, all in the name that they want to survive with their families. But what they tend to forget is that if you cannot send your children to a private school, send them to public school and see that you are at home every evening to do their homework with them. They even do better than the ones who go to private school.
No matter how busy you are, find time every day with them or on weekends when you don’t go to work and they don’t go to school. But most Nigerians are looking for easy ways out. When they are talking about poverty in Nigeria, people don’t know that it is a choice.
Are you saying the problem of corruption is systemic and you don’t see us solving it?
I wrote a concept paper about three years ago on how to set up a lab of followership. I had been trying to get any university in Nigeria until I was lucky to be reconnected to the wife of a late colleague, Prof Mary of the University of Ilorin, who is the dean of a faculty. That made it easy for her to say, ‘yes you can set up this lab.’
So, your idea is that if we want to deal with corruption in Nigeria, we must go back to the followers and work on them.
Yes.
But this will take more than our lifetime; don’t you think so?
It won’t. It doesn’t take a group of people to change anything. One man has changed history, but for this one, you need a group.
Do you see Nigerians rising up against corruption as they are doing in Kenya now?
No; it cannot happen. The system in Kenya is a bit centralised. Although they have a sort of semi-federation with all the counties and so on, power still rests in the centre. In Nigeria we have states, so I will love to see the revolution start in the states. If we can start the revolution in the states, Nigeria will change. This is because the governors are autocrats who are hiding under the federal government. What are they doing with the money they collect every month from the federal government?
Tell us about your family life.
I got married in 1967.
Were you still a soldier in training?
No. I was on telecom engineering course in London when I got married.
So, you met in London?
She was a teacher and later did her master’s and doctorate degrees in the United States, came back and started teaching at the Obafemi Awolowo University.
That was deliberate because I had already made up my mind that I would not touch any money that did not belong to me; therefore, I needed a wife that could look after herself. Secondly, as a soldier, I could die any time, so my wife must not beg anybody to survive. And she has worked very hard to become a professor and things like that. She did her doctorate degree in Aquacultural Economics, which at that time we had very few Africans in. So she has a scientific background.
My children are all working, four of them. One of them is in sports, the youngest of the family. One is working in Uganda. She was working in Abuja before they sent her to Uganda, while two others are working in the United States.
What do you do in your spare time; do you have hobbies?
This organisation.
You don’t have any hobby?
I used to be the chairman of the Nigerian Handball Association.
Did you play handball?
I had made up my mind that I must spread handball all over Nigeria, but what you discover is that people are not ready to volunteer either time or money, even if they have plenty of it. And you wonder what they do with the money, even if their children are very successful.
You said you would prefer Namibia to Nigeria if you were to come back to life; why?
It is a small country, with a small population, but it is organised.
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