In his 1966 book, A Man of the People, Chinua Achebe satirises the corruption dominating Nigeria’s political landscape and plaguing the development of a country newly independent from colonial rule.

The novel offers biting commentary on nation-building, political integrity and social justice. The story of the book's fictionalised African country ends with soldiers overthrowing a corrupt civilian government.

After reading an advanced copy, J.P. Clark, the Nigerian poet and playwright, told Achebe, “Chinua, I know you are a prophet. Everything in this book has happened (in Nigeria), except a military coup.”

Nigeria suffered its first military coup shortly after and Achebe became a target of the army, suspecting he had foreknowledge of the takeover. Sensing danger, he smuggled his family from Enugu to Port Harcourt, but his pregnant wife, Christie, suffered a miscarriage. Achebe later likened his prediction of a coup to predicting an inevitable car accident after watching a drunk man drive.

When the agitation for an independent Republic of Biafra intensified and led to the Nigerian Civil War the following year, Achebe and his family were back in their Enugu home. The author remained a target: his house was bombed and he was forced to move to Aba as the war got worse. He would later become Biafra's communications minister, acting as international envoy.

In 1972, he moved to the United States to accept a professorship at the University of Massachusetts Amherst and returned home four years later. But he had to move abroad again in 1990 after a serious car accident that left him paralysed from his waist down. Despite living abroad, he remained deeply concerned about Nigeria's future.

Why Achebe Said No

After Achebe published his first and most popular book, Things Fall Apart, in 1958, he gained global recognition as one of Nigeria’s most profound and undeniably intelligent writers. His books were praised for their portrayal of African culture and the effects of colonialism.

Achebe enjoyed national and international recognition—an acknowledgement of his contribution to modern African literature. He received the first National Trophy for Literature in 1961, during Nigeria’s first Independence Day anniversary, followed by the first Nigerian National Order of Merit (NMON) and the Order of the Federal Republic (OFR) in 1979. He received the first National Creativity Award twenty years later.

But in 2004 when President Olusegun Obasanjo offered him the Commander of the Order of the Federal Republic (CFR)—one of Nigeria’s highest honours—Achebe had something to say. The author rejected the prestigious award because he was dissatisfied with the country’s state of affairs. His rejection was an act of resistance.

In an open letter, Achebe expressed shock at the corruption and lawlessness plaguing Nigeria, particularly his state, Anambra. He called out the government's tacit approval of some “renegades” determined to turn his homeland bankrupt and lawless. He admitted that even though Nigeria wasn’t perfect when he received national honours in the past, he believed things would get better with leaders committed to uniting diverse people. But by 2004, things remained the same. For Achebe, remaining silent was too dangerous.

Around the time he rejected the award, controversies plagued the political scene in Anambra. Open friction between the governor, Chris Ngige, and his political godfather, Chris Uba, led to the governor’s illegal arrest, which AIG Ralph Ige carried out in July 2003. While he was in detention, a forged resignation letter from the governor was submitted to the state’s House of Assembly to process his removal from office. An investigation by P.M. News linked the arrest to Uba and the Inspector-General of Police, Tafa Balogun.

AIG Ige was forcefully retired, but the government did not do more to prosecute the matter, and the incident was treated like a party affair. Achebe hoped the country’s leadership had done more to deal with the issue.

Although his reasons were clear, the rejection of the national award did not sit well with the government.

But many Nigerians considered Achebe’s rejection of the award to be heroic. A P.M. News editorial referred to him as the “conscience of the nation.” It mattered to Nigerians that a person of such high standing who could “stand toe to toe with the people’s oppressors” did it so publicly.

Achebe's rejection reflected his long-standing thoughts about Nigerian politics and the leadership that politicians offered. He used to be one of them.

There Was a Politician

In an earlier attempt to influence better political leadership in Nigeria, Achebe joined the leftist People’s Redemption Party (PRP) that emerged from the Northern Elements Progressive Union (NEPU) in 1978. The party advocated for the rights of the oppressed, promoted national integration and championed social justice. Achebe said he felt so desperate to show that “of all the bad leaders we had, this one was the least bad and people should know that.”

While serving as the party's deputy national vice-president in 1983, shortly before the presidential election, he published The Trouble with Nigeria, a book that criticised the country’s leadership. He argued that nothing was wrong with the Nigerian character and that Nigeria’s problems stemmed from leaders who avoided accountability and responsibility. He pointed out corruption, tribalism, and nepotism as barriers to progress and condemned leaders for blaming others instead of owning their failures.

Achebe left active politics soon after the elections in 1983. In an interview with CBC Radio, he admitted it wasn't what he was best at.

He explained, "I think there's an inevitable see-saw position for someone like me. You get so frustrated that things are not working out, and you want to go in and do something. And then you find that it's not really that kind of action that you are best at.

"I discovered, for instance, that party politics was really going to be a waste of my time. There's a certain amount of value in that kind of work, but it's time-consuming and energy-consuming. So in the end, you say, 'I really should be writing my books.'"

Why Achebe Said No, Again

Seven years after he rejected the first award, President Goodluck Jonathan offered the same CFR honour to Achebe. He rejected it again.

This time, his open letter was shorter.

President Jonathan responded by implying Achebe was misinformed and expressed hope that he would visit Nigeria to see the nation’s progress. The president acknowledged challenges existed, but believed Nigeria was moving in the right direction and therefore “deserves the support, encouragement and cooperation of all citizens.”

However, by 2014, Nigeria ranked as the 39th most corrupt nation globally in a report by Transparency International. Another report by the United Kingdom’s Department for International Development stated that the country lost about $32 billion to corruption during Jonathan’s administration.

These issues indicated that the corruption Achebe complained about still existed.

Why Achebe's Rejections Matter

In a 2010 conversation with the Guardian, Achebe said speaking about Nigeria in critical terms was a painful duty.

As a renowned international award-winning writer with one of the most resonant Nigerian voices in the global community, choosing to bravely and continuously protest the ills of Nigeria and speak on what needed to change unequivocally throughout his life was exemplary service. His rejection of the award was a rejection of a failing system and a resistance against the state of affairs of things.

Achebe died two years after his final rejection of the CFR award. But going by the words in his open letter to Jonathan, have things changed much in the decade that has followed?

The 2023 election that ushered in the current President Bola Ahmed Tinubu further exposed ethnic disaffections and deepened national disunity. In some parts of Lagos, Igbo voters and people who looked Igbo were threatened and not allowed to vote. Divisive phrases like “Yoruba ronu,” and “Igbos must go” have regained twisted, troubling national prominence, a lot of it trailing back to the country’s political leadership.

While speaking at the Achebe Colloquium on Africa in 2010, the author explained, "We have endured a terrible failure of leadership – not just individuals, but a whole class of potential leaders, from which I do not absolve myself. If there is a stridency in what I say, it is because I believe Nigeria is once again on the brink of a precipice. We urgently have to face up to our responsibilities before it is too late."

Achebe’s rejection of national honours was not just an act of personal resistance but a call for accountability and political integrity—a message that resonates deeply with Nigeria’s current struggles.

If the government offered him the CFR honour again today, what would his response be? And what can a new generation of Nigerians learn from his consistent acts of resistance to demand change?