Today, as the Nigerian Tribune celebrates its 75th anniversary, it’s hard not to be pleasantly astonished by what it has accomplished. For three-quarters of a century, Nigeria’s oldest surviving privately owned English-language newspaper has withstood shifting national tides, weathered economic storms, thrived amid social upheavals, and survived cataclysmic political headwinds with praiseworthy aplomb. 

In the landscape of Nigerian journalism, the Tribune unquestionably stands as a towering and inspirational figure. It’s a paper that, like Nigeria itself, has journeyed through phases of optimism and hardship, growth and constraint, and renewal and resistance, which has earned it the fitting, well-deserved sobriquet of the “Great Survivor.”

Established on November 16, 1949, by the visionary Chief Obafemi Awolowo and his wife Chief HID (whom he memorably dubbed his “jewel of inestimable value”), the Tribune has never been a passive, diffident chronicler of history.

 Instead, as President Bola Ahmed Tinubu said in his tribute to the paper yesterday, it has been a staunch, unremorseful advocate for democratic principles, social justice, and journalistic excellence. It has championed press freedom not as a convenient catchphrase but as a creed and has emerged as one of Nigeria's most steadfast and most consequential defenders of truth.

For any newspaper, particularly in Nigeria where journalism can be a precarious profession and where economic and political pressures have killed many promising media outfits, 75 years is nothing short of extraordinary. 

For the last six years, Tribune has been my intellectual sanctuary and an unlikely but cherished home for my thoughts, provocations, and ideals.

My relationship with the Tribune began in October 2018 when Mr. Edward Dickson, the paper’s Managing Director and Editor-in-Chief, approached me with an intriguing request: to simultaneously publish my Daily Trust on Saturday column in the Saturday Tribune.

 I initially hesitated. To be honest, I don’t know why I did. Perhaps, it was because of my sense of the complexities of simultaneous publication. Well, I later embraced the opportunity, recognizing the Tribune's unique readership and its storied legacy.  

Then I approached Malam Mannir Dan-Ali, at the time Daily Trust’s Editor-in-Chief, for his blessings. He proposed a compromise. He said I should delay the publication of my column in the Tribune by a day to prevent fragmenting the Daily Trust’s readership. 

However, I countered with a pragmatic view. I pointed out the distinct audiences of the two papers. I even cited Malam Mohammed Haruna’s successful dual-column venture between the Daily Trust and The Nation at the time.

Agreement remained elusive, but I pressed on and started sending my column to the Tribune. My inaugural column appeared on the back page of Saturday Tribune on November 10, 2018.  To their credit, the management of the Daily Trust lodged no complaints—at least, not until December 2018, when my column was abruptly axed under the weight of pressure from President Muhammadu Buhari’s administration. 

My relentless critiques of the regime’s corruption, nepotism, and governance misadventures had evidently struck too many sensitive nerves. Thus, the Tribune became not merely my new home but my only discursive refuge for unfiltered truth-telling. Its storied pages began to shoulder the burden of my weekly angst and irreverent commentaries.

What stood out about this new relationship was its openness, call it originative openness, if you like. Despite my identity as a Muslim northerner — an unlikely recruit for a paper historically tied to the Awolowo legacy, which is rooted in Yoruba identity and Christian ethos — the Tribune sought me out. 

This act exemplified the paper’s ideological cosmopolitanism and commitment to robust, untrammeled discourse. Remarkably, by a twist of happenstance, all three editors of the paper’s flagship editions — Debo Abdulai of the daily, Sina Oladeinde of the Sunday Tribune, and Lasisi Olagunju of the Saturday Tribune — are Muslims. Such a convergence of diversity within a publication owned by a staunchly Christian family speaks volumes about its commitment to inclusivity and its transcendence of exclusivist affiliational politics.

This openness wasn’t merely symbolic. It was a lived reality. Months after I began my column, some voices from Yorubaland clamored for my removal, citing grievances over my columns that addressed what I have called the symbolic and material marginalization of Yoruba Muslims in Yorubaland and my forceful, searing critiques of former Vice President Yemi Osinbajo, who is married into the Awolowo family. 

The management of Tribune stood resolutely by me. The Editor-in-Chief himself reached out through a phone call and assured me of the management’s unwavering support for me, not because they agreed with what I had written but because they recognized and respected my right to my thoughts. 

That moment, both touching and profound, encapsulated the editorial courage that has kept the Tribune alive for 75 years. It was, for me, a resounding affirmation of the paper’s editorial and professional integrity, which many publications sadly lack.

The Tribune’s history is one of intellectual bravery, of defying conventions to carve a path for Nigerian journalism that is inclusive, bold, and unapologetically inquisitive. Even when the paper could have comfortably catered only to a Yoruba Christian readership, it chose to embrace divergent voices.

 The 2018 hiring of Ja’afar Ja’afar, another northern Muslim journalist, to write for the Sunday edition of the paper was another admirable instantiation of its discursive inclusivity. Ja’afar, whose fierce independence eventually led him to establish his own online newspaper, which famously videographically exposed former Governor Abdullahi Ganduje’s dollar stuffing from contractors, had found a home in the Tribune, which shows yet another evidence of the paper’s unique ability to welcome diverse perspectives.

The Tribune’s remarkable longevity stems from its willingness to evolve without sacrificing its principles. In an era when media houses are struggling to remain independent, when they are capitulating to powerful interests and becoming watchdogs that neither bark nor bite, the Tribune has held firm. 

It has rejected the temptations of sensationalism and superficiality, opting instead to pursue depth, nuance, and moral clarity. Its editors understand that the role of the press is not merely to report but to illuminate, to provoke thought, to transcend the familiar and the predictable and, when necessary, to challenge the status quo.

 At the Tribune, the pen is never a weapon wielded out of spite but a tool for enlightenment, a platform to broaden horizons, and a deliberative arena to deepen discourse.

What is it about the Tribune that has allowed it to endure in a country where so many newspapers have come and gone? Perhaps it is the paper’s ability to navigate the complexities of identity, culture, and power.

 Nigeria is a nation of many religions, ethnicities, and ideological dispositions. The Tribune has thrived by engaging with these multiplicities rather than retreating into a narrow, self-affirming silo. Through a civil war, bloody communal upheavals, coups, and constitutional crises, the paper has remained resolute in its dedication to a better Nigeria, a Nigeria where people of all backgrounds can find a voice, where the exchange of ideas is cherished, and where the media’s role is seen as sacred.

As the Nigerian Tribune celebrates its 75th year, I feel immense pride to be part of its legacy, even if only for six of its 75 illustrious years of fearless journalism. For me, and for countless Nigerians, this paper is not just an institution; it is a beacon, a reminder of what journalism can and should be.

 It represents the best of Nigeria’s spirit, a spirit that refuses to be silenced, that champions diversity, that dares to hold the powerful accountable while giving voice to the voiceless.

Seventy-five years is a significant milestone, but it is only a prelude to what lies ahead. I have no doubt that the Tribune will continue to be Nigeria’s conscience, an unwavering light in times of darkness, and a trusted friend to those who seek truth.

 For as long as there are stories to be told, injustices to be exposed, and truths to be defended, the Nigerian Tribune will be there, steadfast and unswerving.

Long may it live.