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Legacy

Two years ago the hanging of Ken Saro-Wiwa illuminated a world darkened by the shadow of corporate power. As nineteen who are still in jail today looked on, nine men died in the most gruesome way possible on the morning of November 10,1995, in the yard of Port Harcourt prison. Witnesses reported that Saro-Wiwa's last words were "Lord take my soul, but the struggle continues."

It has. What began in 1990 as a call for the environmental and social rights of an ethnic minority group has grown to be the catalyst for global movements for Nigerian democracy, and corporate accountability. Saro-Wiwa and MOSOP dared to stand up to a brutally repressive military regime and the company that fuels its terror. Their sacrifice revealed the true nature of power in the global economy, and has inspired and empowered action on a worldwide scale.

In the weeks following Saro-Wiwa's execution, Shell mounted a global public relations blitz. Seeking to portray critics as pessimistic and paranoid, one ad read: "The world in which companies use their influence to prop up or bring down governments would be a frightening and bleak one indeed". PR hacks looking through rose tinted glasses at the world's most profitable corporation may consider this statement paranoid - but for the billions of people around the world who are disenfranchised from power, who continue to suffer the impacts of the liberalization of trade, and their loss of local control, who lament the millions of dollars of corporate money required to win elected office, or the control of the US media by a handful of mega-corporations, this statement reflects reality. For the people of Colombia who have watched BP hire whole battalions of their military, or the people of the Congo Republic who watched last month as their President was ousted because he dared to challenge Elf Aquitane's monopoly on his country's oil, ours is, indeed, a frightening and bleak world.

We know more today than we did two years ago about Shell's operations in Nigeria. We can begin to quantify the environmental double standards of the company by pointing to pollution levels that are 700 times higher than allowed in Europe. We know how Shell uses field operatives (the "Shell Police") to manipulate and divide communities. Despite repeated categorical denials, Shell now reluctantly and with qualification admits to both paying the military and importing weapons. We know that two of the prosecution witnesses at Saro-Wiwa's trial have subsequently signed sworn statements indicating that they were bribed by both the Nigerian military and Shell to testify against Saro-Wiwa. We know now, as we did then, that Saro-Wiwa, the other eight, and two thousand more Ogoni, have been murdered because they dared to expose the darkness of Shell and the Nigerian military. We know now, as we did then, that Shell is guilty while the Ogoni Nine were innocent.

We also know today that the Ogoni are not alone. The Amungme in Indonesia, the U'wa of Colombia, the Nahua of Peru, the Warao of Venezuela, the Karen of Burma, the Dineh of Arizona, and to some extent all of us are victims of corporate power. We will all continue to build the bridges which enable us to see how this power works, and to challenge it.

Empowered and inspired by the Ogoni example, other communities in the Delta have been pressing their case. The Ijaw - the fourth largest ethnic group in Nigeria, from whose land comes a majority of the country's oil - have been seizing Shell flow stations and local government centers. In defiance of a ban, thousands of people in the Delta - even in Ogoni - plan to rally on November 10th in remembrance of the Ogoni Nine. Around the world expatriate Nigerians and their supporters are building a movement to free Africa's most populous country from military repression and the corporate power that makes it possible.

The Ogoni are not forgotten. As thousands of people around the world pause on November 10 to recall their sacrifice, we all redouble our efforts to aid those Ogoni still at home, still in prison, and still in refugee camps. The justice that Saro-Wiwa sought is still elusive, but the intensity of his vision is now shared by millions. They can't hang us all.

In Remembrance: Baribor Bera, Saturday Dobee, Nordu Eawo, Daniel Gbokoo, Barinem Kiobel, John Kpuinen, Paul Levura, Felix Nuate and Ken Saro-Wiwa. In Solidarity: Activists in prison or under detention and duress in Ogoni, in Nigeria, and around the world.

-originally published in Drillbits & Tailings, November 7, 1997

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