At 80, Professor Femi Osofisan remains one of Africa’s most influential literary voices. In this wide-ranging interview with Gbenro Adesina, the celebrated playwright and scholar reflects on his life, his contributions to African theatre, the state of education in Nigeria, the future of the country, the dangers of artificial intelligence, and his continuing commitment to writing despite health challenges. He speaks with remarkable candour about ageing, politics, culture, and the responsibilities of intellectuals in contemporary society. The Excerpt:
Q: Prof, as you celebrate your 80th birthday, what emotions dominate this moment of reflection?
A: It is a mixed basket of feelings. First, it is a big surprise to me that I am 80. Time seems to have passed so rapidly. One day, you are 20; the next, you are 40; and before you know it, you are 80. I haven’t really had time to reflect on this. It has simply been my normal passage through time. Really, it is a mixture of emotions. Some of them are very sad, while others are very happy. That is how life is.
Q: Can you share one or two sad moments of your life?
A: There have been many sad moments. Recently, I have been thinking of friends who have fallen along the way. I have just discovered that many of my companions and collaborators, particularly those with whom I worked on the stage, are gone. Here I am, someone who never expected to reach 40, and now I am 80. Early this year, we celebrated Professor Biodun Jeyifo’s 80th birthday, and a month later, he was gone. I was in the hospital with him before he passed away. If you come to our department now, the Theatre Art Department, you will be surprised at how empty the place seems. This is because many of the people who gave the department its identity are gone: Adelugba, Adedeji, Marinho, and Femi Fatoba. These are names closely associated with the department. So, sometimes when I walk around the department, I feel very lonely and abandoned. Even Tunji Oyelana, who is still alive, is no longer there. He is in England. That makes one reflect and become sober. But there have also been beautiful moments. My journey in the theatre, for example, has allowed me to experiment with different ideas, and sometimes you suddenly find that they succeed. You take a risk. You stage a play, and you don’t know what will become of it. I must say that I have had an exciting career.
Q: So, you now see yourself as a stranger in the department you once belonged to?
A: I have not been cut off from the department. Although I retired, I became an emeritus professor, so I am still there, and I teach occasionally. One must keep in touch with other generations; otherwise, one can become very lonely. This allows me to engage in dialogue with new people.
Q: When you look back on your life’s journey, what gives you the greatest sense of fulfilment?
A: There have been moments of both fulfilment and failure. In terms of Fulfilment, there was a time we set out to create a new form of drama for Africa. The question was: how do we create a new drama? We did it. We did it. We accomplished it a long time ago now. Many people don’t realise that what we were doing was new when we started. It was particularly gratifying when, in 1986, I won the Italian prize, one of the highest honours awarded by the International Association of Theatre Critics to individuals who have outstanding contributions to the theatre. This recognition acknowledged the new ideas we had brought into drama. Interestingly, we created a new form of drama that has now become widely accepted. That is quite fulfilling.
Q: What lesson has life taught you?
A: There is a Yoruba proverb that says, “Tibi tire, la da ile aye.” Life is full of ups and downs, and we simply have to get used to that. There will be moments of great joy, and there will be moments of great despair. Sometimes, disappointment comes at the moment one is celebrating. It can be quite shocking. One has to take everything in stride. One of the problems many people have is that they expect life to be easy and smooth sailing all the time. Once something negative occurs, they become disheartened and are easily exploited by all kinds of charlatans. We need to understand the nature of life. At times, life is good; at other times, it is difficult. Sometimes life will be rough, and at other times, it will be smooth sailing. One must simply accept these realities and remain focused on what one wants to achieve in life.
Q: Is there any dream or ambition you still hope to fulfil?
A: Yes, there is; otherwise, one would no longer be a writer. Writers are always writing and always searching for new challenges. One area in which we are seriously lacking is children’s literature. It has always been difficult for me to write for children. We need far more books for young readers than we currently have. I have written only one children’s book, Making Children is Fun, published by Mosuro. Interestingly, whenever I set out to write for children, I end up producing a book for adults. Writing for children requires a special kind of artistry and skill. I still hope that one day I will be able to make a meaningful contribution to children’s literature, especially in prose, where I believe we do not have enough quality works. Another concern I have is that many people no longer read as much as they used to. Instead, they are increasingly glued to social media. This trend worries me, just as the rapid rise of Artificial Intelligence worries me. AI is both an asset and a danger. While it offers tremendous opportunities, it also poses serious risks if we fail to regulate and control its use. Today, AI is being deployed without sufficient attention to its ethical implications. If we are not careful, machines may eventually replace human beings in many aspects of life. Consider the dinosaurs; they disappeared and were replaced by another dominant species. If society is not cautious, we may one day find ourselves displaced by machines that possess neither hearts nor feelings. Imagine a world run by entities that have no capacity for empathy. This is precisely why literature remains so important. Literature is not merely about studying systems or algorithms; it is about preserving our humanity. Through storytelling, we continue to ask fundamental questions: What is the purpose of life? Is life simply about efficiency? Efficient for what purpose? Life must remain meaningful and livable for human beings. If technology deprives people of their jobs and sense of purpose, what becomes of them? More than ever before, we need the humanities and the arts to keep these questions alive in the consciousness of society.
Q: But machines are already performing some tasks better than human beings, and that seems to support your argument that they may eventually replace humans. How do you respond to that?
A: A time may come when machines will be used to determine whether someone is truly human or not.
Q: But it is our reality, and there is nothing we can do?
A: There is a great deal we can do. We need to recognise the value of human beings and understand that people matter. We should not do things solely for profit.
Q: But the machines are doing what human beings are doing?
A: What can machines do that human beings can also do? And what can they not do that human beings can? Can you kiss a machine? There is a difference between what human beings can do and what machines can do. Beyond efficiency, attention must also be paid to the ethical and emotional dimensions of life. This is where we must continue to remind society not to surrender entirely to the way of the machine.
Q: What experiences from your childhood most profoundly shaped the writer, scholar, and thinker you became?
A: Growing up influences the person you become. The people you meet and admire all play a role. Everything counts. I didn’t have a father, but I have been very lucky.
Q: You lost your father when?
A: I lost my father when I was two months old. Also, my mother was very poor.
Q: Which state are you from?
A: I am from Ijebu-Ode in Ogun State, but I did not grow up there. The first language I spoke was Ijesa because I spent my childhood in Ilesa. I attended Iloro School briefly. My father died when I was very young, and my uncle, who took responsibility for me, was also quite young at the time and in school. After completing his education, he got a job that required him to move from one town to another, and I moved with him wherever he was posted. As a result, I attended about six or seven different primary schools in various towns. That constant movement did not allow me to form lasting friendships or enjoy a stable childhood. It was only when I gained admission to Government College that some stability finally came into my life. You can imagine the kind of impact that experience had on me. My world became largely literary. I read extensively because, when you are alone, books often become your closest companions. Reading opened up new worlds to me and shaped my imagination. So, if you ask which teacher influenced me the most, I cannot point to any particular individual. Rather, it was the books I read and the experiences I had growing up that exerted the greatest influence on my life.
Q: Even in the university?
A: University is even worse. You are supposed to be mature and use your own mind. There was, however, one teacher who left a lasting impression on me during my school days. He was our headmaster, Mr. J. J. Bullock. He was the person who truly encouraged my interest in the arts. Our school was heavily science-oriented. In those days, very few schools in the country had well-equipped laboratories, but we were fortunate to have our own chemistry, physics, and biology laboratories. We also had excellent teachers because the government was committed to ensuring that schools maintained high standards. As a result, we received some of the best education available at the time. The emphasis, however, was largely on the sciences, and most of us were encouraged to pursue science subjects. Despite that environment, Mr. Bullock’s influence helped nurture my interest in the arts.
Q: So, you did science subjects in your secondary school?
A: Yes, because in our days, you do everything. I did physics, chemistry, mathematics, biology, and so on. Our class was extraordinary. Coming first in one term did not guarantee that you would come first in the next term. One day, the principal called me and said that if all of us did sciences, there would be no one to replace people like him who studied the arts. He was our English teacher and taught us literature. I then promised him that I would do arts. I remember that my mathematics teacher was very disappointed. In our days, we didn’t have anyone to counsel us. Sometimes, I still regret giving up the sciences.
Q: You still regret it up till now?
A: It is not really a question of regret. I only wish I had continued with the sciences because it was possible to do so. You could orient yourself in that direction and still keep up with other subjects. Once we got to the HSC class, we had to split, and I went into the arts. I later studied French at the University of Ibadan. The kind of education we had then was different. The syllabus was different. We did not have a course system. The system allowed you to broaden your knowledge, if you wished, by taking other subjects. I was studying French, and there were no examinations at all during the first two years. It allowed you to go out and explore life. You had time to participate in school politics, as many of us did. The limitations of that educational system, however, were obvious. The tension became very high. Imagine not taking any examinations for two years and then sitting for only three subjects. During the examinations, you would be shaking with anxiety. They used to bring an ambulance to the examination venue because people would faint. There was a moment when I considered fainting myself, but I later realised it was not the best idea. The reason is that the examination you are trying to escape will still be waiting for you. After you have been revived, you will find the examination paper quietly waiting. Once you open your eyes, they hand you the question paper and expect you to continue. You cannot run away from the examination. The system also encouraged very beneficial tutorials. After classes, you could have sessions with your teachers. We no longer have that. Under the course system, there are so many courses to take, and many of them are taught rather superficially.
Q: If you had remained in science class, what profession would you have gone into?
A: Engineering.
Q: Growing up in pre-independence Nigeria, what dreams did your generation have for the country?
A: It is unfortunate because I think all of us were somewhat naïve and unprepared. As we later came to realise, the British played a trick on us. They did not want to grant us independence because they were making so much money from the colony. They only yielded to the growing global advocacy for the independence of colonised nations. After the Second World War, many people in the colonies began to question how the British government could rule other nations while refusing to be ruled itself. Many of our people had fought alongside the Britons during the war and had come to realise that they were no different from other human beings. They asked: how could you come here, rule us, and pay us such meagre salaries? There was, therefore, a growing demand for independence. Faced with changing realities around the world, the British eventually realised that it was time to grant independence. However, they ensured that we knew very little about managing the economy so that we would continue to depend on them. What I am saying is that by the time we attained so-called independence, many of those who had fought for independence and understood governance found themselves in the opposition. Power was handed over to those who had not actively advocated for independence and who had not strongly opposed colonial rule. The colonial authorities instructed British officials in charge of elections to manipulate the electoral process. The elections were allegedly rigged in favour of the North, ensuring that the South did not possess equal political strength. The objective was to ensure that British influence over the country’s resources would continue. Wole Soyinka, who was in England at the time, observed that many Nigerians were returning home primarily to take over the positions vacated by the British rather than focusing on how to develop the country. Their interest was to gain access to the national cake. That is why the Government Reservation Areas (GRAs) remained, only to be occupied by a new black elite. This has been unfortunate for us. By the time we recognised these problems, correcting them had become difficult. This is what we have been struggling against for more than six decades after independence. We need to change the educational system inherited from the British so that our thinking can develop independently. Thereafter, we must also reform the system of government. However, if we change governments without changing people’s mentality and mindset, we will continue to reproduce the same problems, and society may become increasingly violent. People will continue to grow angry. Instead of concentrating on development, we will keep fighting over which person or region should control political power. Consider what happened later. The military came to power during a period of idealism. Many of the young officers were relatively well educated, and some had attended military institutions abroad. After independence, oil was discovered, and eventually the military leadership became dependent on oil revenues. No Nigerians had been properly trained to explore or process the oil industry. Foreign companies returned to explore and refine the oil and determined the prices at which they would purchase it. The military leadership, lacking expertise in the oil business, accepted these arrangements. As oil revenues increased, agriculture and other sectors suffered neglect. Instead of encouraging production, the country encouraged the importation of food and many other goods. Eventually, the oil boom ended, and the country encountered serious difficulties. The British never adequately prepared the right people to take over governance. Education suffered as political competition increasingly became a struggle over access to wealth and power. It has been a very unfortunate experience.
Q: Do you think some of the reforms brought by Tinubu, particularly on education, can change anything?
A: These are cosmetic changes. I am not pessimistic. We are not there at all. What is the basis of education? What do we want to produce? Is it about producing people who can operate machines? What about their minds? The government is still very much afraid of the mental emancipation of our people. Maybe it is a bit better now. At a time when we needed a bulb, we had to get it in Japan. Nigerians or Africans couldn’t make anything. The Western World made us believe that we couldn’t do anything by ourselves. Our orientation needs to change, and we must know that we can do it by ourselves. The Black people are capable of doing anything. Gradually, things are changing, but not up to what we want. You see, there were times if you boarded an airplane and you were told that a black man would pilot the plane, you would almost shit in your pants, and you would start wondering whether you would land safely or not. But if they say the pilot is a white man, you are calm and have no problem. Now, if they say a black woman is piloting, you would begin to wonder what made you travel. Why not choose another day or another aircraft? Some of the best pilots are black women. We don’t even look at the origin of all these flights. White people make us believe that we are just consumers. White people systematically erased the achievements of black people. During the military era, when education went down, the most brilliant people went abroad. In our days at the university, the best students were retained as teachers. By the time we came out, the military had taken over, and the best students never looked at the university. That has not changed. Up till now, nobody wants to teach in the university because they don’t want to be poor. The military destroyed education so that it could humiliate the universities because it was its major opposition.
Q: What about the civilian administration?
A: The civilian administration is an offshoot of the military. Who could have the money needed to run an election? Again, only the military-favoured individuals can attempt to run. The military personnel themselves will change their Khaki to an agbada. We haven’t escaped from that. We have the same mentality, to oppress others irrespective of whether you are military personnel or a civilian. People just want to loot the Nigerian economy.
Q: Is that our experience today?
A: Maybe, it is changing. Having fought for democracy, one can’t expect President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to be like General Ibrahim Babangida or General Muhammadu Buhari. Things are changing. It is just that it will take time. Some people are still resisting the positive changes we are experiencing, saying that the agents of change are going too far. I think gradually we will get there.
Q: When are we going to get there?
A: We don’t know. We don’t even know whether human beings will be important then because those who control the machines will control the world.
Q: When did you first realise that storytelling and theatre would become your life’s calling?
A: I didn’t know it would become my life’s calling. Everything I do is part of what I want to achieve: teaching in a classroom is part of it; trying to get the young ones to be more enterprising, to think of their society, to think of capability, and above all, to believe in change. The orthodox system doesn’t believe in changing anything. Whenever I ask my students about how the cell phones they like are made, they will just look at me because they have never thought about it. But the phones are made by human beings. Not only that, they don’t care about their environment, not to mention our history. This is lamentable. The military does it this way. My 400-level students do ask who Zik is. This is tragic. It is not their fault. They are not dull. They are intelligent, but they have never made them realise the importance of all of these. How can they change their society when they don’t know what their society is?
Q: I don’t know why the government is scared of schools teaching students about their history?
A: You will not bother asking why the government is afraid of schools teaching students their history if you have been part of the looting system. There was a time when I went to an NYSC Camp and told the corps members that our system had been producing mass illiteracy. The system turns out illiterates. Our graduates know very little, yet the system continues to pass them out. What exactly have we taught them? They disagreed with my assessment. Fortunately, we were at the edge of a forest. I asked them to mark out a small area, about four-by-four feet, and then tell me the names of the plants within that space. They could not. If you don’t know the plants in your immediate environment, how will you know the plants elsewhere? You don’t know your environment. How then can you change it? You see a plant, and you walk past it. You see a bird and don’t know its name. Is that not a serious problem? We don’t teach our history, our environment, and our values. So, how can we change? At the same time, the latest gadgets and technologies arrive in Nigeria, yet, we don’t know how they are made. This is very tragic. You earn a degree in mechanical engineering, yet you don’t know the parts of a car. What kind of education are we giving our students? It is even more tragic in medicine. Some of the plants and leavers in our forest can cure many diseases, yet, we don’t know their uses. Instead, we uproot them. I believe we need a complete reorientation. We need to understand our history and our environment because this is where we live. We are not all going to Japa.
Q: Your works often draw from Yoruba oral traditions while engaging contemporary issues. Why has that fusion remained central to your artistic vision?
A: This question is very interesting because it touches on what I have been trying to do throughout my writing career. The literature we were given to read came largely from abroad. We had “A for Apple” when many of us did not even know what an apple looked like. Literature should bring us back to our people, our environment, our concerns, and the things that are familiar to us. This is the only way we can truly learn. Our literature and culture are not inferior to those of other societies. In many respects, they are even superior. If we fail to recognise this, we will continue to depend on the West. Western civilisation came to us with an advantage because it had a long written tradition, whereas our own tradition was largely oral. Furthermore, if literature is written only in English, how many people can actually read it? In the early years, very few people spoke English, and there were only a handful of universities. Yet everything was conducted in English. Our laws, for example, were written in English. As a result, many people became criminals almost by default. You go to court, and the charges are read to you in a language you do not understand. The elite benefited from this system and therefore had little reason to challenge it. But what happens to ordinary people? I came from a poor family, and I was very conscious of these realities. I therefore resolved to write literature that ordinary people could understand. This has influenced the kind of plays I write. Even when we write in English, we must use a language that ordinary people can understand. There is also the problem of ethnicity. Suppose you write about corruption and make a Hausa man the main character. You may be accused of tribalism. People will tell you to write about members of your own ethnic group instead. As a result, many people escape accountability because ethnic loyalty often overrides justice. They will say that someone is attacking them because they are Hausa, Igbo, Egun, or Yoruba. The various ethnic groups then rally around their own people, and the guilty often escape punishment. These concerns have made me believe that we should develop forms of narration that transcend ethnicity. We must create artistic forms that are indigenous to us, forms that people will recognise as distinctly African. Readers should be able to identify a play as African rather than English or Asian because it contains cultural signals that reflect its environment, such as a Yoruba setting. If I knew more Nigerian languages, I would have written in some of them as well. At the same time, many Yoruba people themselves no longer know certain aspects of their culture. We therefore need to revive the Yoruba language, especially for children, so that they can understand who they are and how their people lived. However, I approach these issues from a critical perspective. It is important to know how our people lived and what they believed, but that does not mean we must continue to do everything exactly as it was done in the past. Circumstances have changed. Saying that this is how things used to be does not mean that this is how they must always remain. For example, many people today know about Sango, Ogun, and other traditional deities. When we were growing up, we were taught that these were pagan gods and that they were cruel. Christianity condemned these beliefs, and many shrines, statues, and sacred groves were destroyed. Today, attitudes have changed. Some religious leaders openly acknowledge visiting shrines, something that would have been unthinkable in the past. People have come to realise that Christianity alone may not answer every question. We therefore need to understand Ifa as an alternative system of knowledge. This does not mean that it is entirely good or entirely bad. Learning about Ifa does not prevent anyone from attending church or mosque. It simply reminds us that our people were not empty. They had their own systems of solving problems and organising society.
Q: Among all your plays, which one is closest to your heart, and why?
A: It is like asking a man, which of your children is closest to your heart. Everything depends on circumstances. Each of my plays deals with a peculiar issue. If we are dealing with the problem of robbery, Once Upon a Robber deals with that. For me, each is as important as the other. So, there is no preferred one.
Q: Many of your works challenge power, corruption, and injustice. Do you believe theatre still has the power to influence society in today’s world?
A: It must. It’s by these stories that we can reach people’s hearts. It is through these stories that we can change people’s ideas and make them do one thing or the other. We must continue to make it happen. When I was writing my column in The Guardian, and it became problematic, I changed the column to a fiction column. It is an easier way of reaching people.
Q: What effect do skits on social media have on theatre?
A: It affects the theatre, but I believe that very soon, the effect will wear off. It is an innovation now, and everybody is rushing to it because they think they can make money quickly from it. In the end, the truly talented ones will become known and establish themselves as professionals, while the rest will simply disappear. This is a normal transition. We have new tools and new technologies. We should not forget that Nollywood started in a similar way before it eventually evolved and became more professional.
Q: The University of Ibadan was once a gathering place for some of Africa’s greatest literary minds. What are your most memorable recollections of that remarkable era?
A: Since I decided to pursue an academic career, you can imagine how comfortable I was in that environment. Again, nothing seems to endure forever. I wrote an essay titled The City at Muse, in which I reflected on what Ibadan used to be and what it has become. At that time, there was only one university in the entire country, and it was in Ibadan. As a result, it attracted intellectuals from all over Nigeria. The best students from Queen’s School, government colleges, and other institutions came to Ibadan. This had a profound impact on the city, making Ibadan a truly cosmopolitan centre. However, life began to change. More universities and states were created elsewhere. The civil war came, many expatriates left, and attacks on the university system followed. Gradually, many of the best minds also left, and mediocrity began to creep into the system. That is what we have been trying to correct. Once mediocrity enters a system, it becomes very difficult to eliminate because it tends to reproduce itself. You can imagine a mediocre person becoming a head of department. Such a person may avoid recruiting brilliant people because of a fear of being threatened and instead bring in people like himself. That, however, is not the complete picture because some people stayed behind to resist this decline. When some of us realised that the government was gradually undermining education, we remained and fought to ensure that it did not succeed.
Q: What role did figures such as Wole Soyinka, Niyi Osundare, Chinua Achebe, and other contemporaries play in shaping your generation of writers?
A: They did a lot. For example, Wole Soyinka won a Nobel Prize. You can imagine the fame he gave us. This encouraged us to write. This makes Soyinka a catalyst for literary production. The government didn’t encourage writing. How many Nobel prizes have we got after Soyinka? I don’t think we can deny that the glamour the prize brought can also help the other junior writers.
Q: What does Ibadan mean to you as a creative and intellectual home? Can you tell us the city or region noted for the highest literary creativity?
A: You need to read my essay, “The City as Muse”. I came to Ibadan without parents. I came by myself. Ibadan became a kind of home to me.
Q: Around the world today, democracies face increasing pressure while misinformation spreads rapidly. What responsibility do artists and intellectuals have in times like these?
A: I think the responsibility of intellectuals is constant. You have a perspective, and you must follow it. If you are true to your profession, you pursue the truth. You must be compassionate. You must show compassion to others. Kindness is like a baton in a relay race. You hand it to the next person. You don’t know when it is going to come back to you. It will certainly come back to you. Don’t believe in Godfather. Believe in yourself and work hard. With this, you will be able to achieve your minimum amount of happiness if you are not greedy.
Q: At 80, what do you consider your most important legacy?
A: Funny enough, I had never thought of this kind of question. I have not thought of leaving. It is when you feel you are leaving a place that you will start to talk about legacy. I don’t think any artist will think of that if you are still working.
Q: Are you still writing?
A: Yes, I am still writing. As long as there are problems in society, I think about them, and I have to write about them. If I am not writing, I believe that is the end.
Q: So, we should still be expecting new texts from you?
A: Of course. There are so many plays that I have not published. My play on the Chinese and the adaptation of Achebe that I did in Ghana have not been published.
Q: So, you are going to write until you breathe your last breath?
A: I hope so. Already, I am beginning to have the effects of Parkinson’s disease. God grant us full health. We will continue to do what we know how to do.
Q: What advice would you give young Nigerian and African writers, filmmakers, and creatives navigating today’s challenges?
A: It depends. It is either you want to be a writer or not. This is what I do when I am writing my column. I made sure that it was very diverse. Everything is not politics. Though politics dominate everything, I pay attention to other aspects of development. People fight wars; some people are warriors. It is not only warriors who make up society. What of an engineer who constructs? If we look at our society, there are so many things we don’t know. You have to investigate. For instance, I remember when I was growing up, we had a water pot. The water taken from this pot is always very cold, like water from a refrigerator. How did they develop that kind of technology? Who found out how to fry Gaari? That is not just a nature. When you see some of our houses, the roof hut, how did they do it so that when rain falls, it doesn’t enter the houses? There are so many things we need to do about our culture.
Q: What kind of Nigeria would you like your grandchildren and great-grandchildren to inherit? That is, if any of them is here?
A: I do not know whether there will still be a Nigeria as a country, particularly with the way geopolitics is evolving and with the impact of climate change around the world. Many of them may no longer be living in Nigeria. Whatever country they eventually live in, the world will work itself out.
Q: With the problem ravaging Nigeria, if you have the opportunity to speak to the political class, what will you say?
A: Nigeria exists. People are living there with serious problems. But can you tell me which county you know that has no problem?
Q: But our own is special?
A: Yes, our own is special because we are a special country. We are not like others. Every country has its own problems.
Q: Are you saying that what is happening in Nigeria is normal?
A: I am saying that you can’t change it. Human beings must go through periods of contention. It is just normal nature. We have to fight it and work it out. No moment in history has become paradise. All moments will be full of contentions.
Q: So, what is happening in Nigeria is normal?
A: This is normal in our history. When all of us become convinced that we want to move in the same direction, a solution will emerge. The easiest solution is not always the best one. Some people say that we should break apart and allow the Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa, Fulani, and other groups to go their separate ways. I do not believe that this will happen. Even if it does, new sources of conflict and fresh forms of dissent will emerge. You cannot have a country at peace when the people around it are at war. Therefore, we must confront these areas of contention and think seriously about how to resolve them in a way that allows the greatest number of people to benefit. We can never create a system in which everybody benefits equally. We must also recognise that there are external forces that may seek to weaken or divide us. Some of them present themselves as friends, but they are not necessarily acting in our best interests. We should resolve our problems among ourselves rather than allow outside forces to exploit our divisions. We must sit down together and address these issues seriously. Above all, we must be careful not to involve external forces in such a way that we eventually become victims ourselves.
