“If we had someone to hold us accountable, things would have been better.”
Those words, spoken by a friend earlier this week, have lingered in my mind. We were reflecting on past decisions; missed opportunities, mistakes made, and paths that could have been different if only someone had been there to challenge us, question us, or remind us of what we once committed to.
The words struck a chord, not just because they were true in a personal sense but because they echoed a lesson I learned early in my career. My first ‘real role’ in journalism was at a social accountability newsroom, a place where my primary task was to track, investigate, and report how state governments in Central Nigeria were spending their budgetary allocations.
Looking back, I often joke that I was recruited as an ‘unsolicited accountability partner’ for these local authorities. Whether they liked it or not, my job was to ensure that they answered tough questions about public funds—where they went, how they were spent, and who benefited from them. It wasn’t work that made me particularly popular, but it was necessary.
What I quickly realised, however, was that most people (including me), whether in power or not, resist accountability. Governments evade it. Institutions avoid it. Even individuals find ways to escape it. We love autonomy, but we rarely embrace the responsibility that comes with it.
One of the biggest challenges I faced in that role (and still do) was getting officials to respond to inquiries. Emails were ignored, phone calls went unanswered, and when responses finally came, they were vague, defensive, or outright dismissive. Sometimes, they questioned why I was even interested in these matters, as though public funds were personal accounts they had no obligation to explain.
In a way, this is human nature. We all desire freedom, but few of us willingly subject ourselves to accountability. It is uncomfortable to have someone question our decisions, challenge our actions, or expose our missteps. Even when we know it is for the best, we resist.
Yet, as Proverbs 27:17 reminds us, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” True growth, whether personal or societal, requires a sharpening process, and sharpening is never gentle. It involves friction, heat, and pressure.
Trust me, the role was intense—and risky. Social accountability journalism is not just about data and reports; it is about holding power to account in societies where power often operates without restraint. The more we investigated, the clearer it became that some of these officials didn’t just dislike accountability, they actively fought against it.
One of the first reports I worked on exposed a project that had supposedly received millions but barely existed in reality. The deeper I dug, the more resistance I faced. One day, while in the field, I was waylaid by thugs working for the politician in charge.
We often hear stories of press suppression from the military era, but at that moment, I wasn’t just hearing history—I was living it.
I had a choice: retreat or persist. My editors, prioritising my safety, urged me to step back.
Fear is a natural response in such situations, but so is courage. In moments of uncertainty, I found comfort in scriptures like Isaiah 41:10, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.” I knew that accountability journalism was never meant to be easy, but if no one asked these questions, who would?
If I learned anything from those experiences, it is this: accountability is like a mirror.
A mirror does not distort, embellish, or flatter. It simply reflects reality as it is. Some days, we like what we see. On other days, we would rather look away. But whether we accept it or not, the mirror tells the truth.
This applies not just to governments and institutions but to individuals as well. How many times have we avoided people who challenge us, ignored feedback that calls us to do better, or surrounded ourselves with voices that only affirm our choices? We love to talk about growth, but without accountability, growth is just an illusion.
As I reflect on that conversation with my friend, I realise that many of us have lived through moments where a little accountability could have changed the course of our lives. Perhaps it was a decision we made recklessly, a project we abandoned, or a responsibility we neglected.
We often assume that accountability is something external—rules, structures, or authority figures. But real accountability is a choice. We choose to submit to it, to seek it out, and to embrace it even when it makes us uncomfortable.
That is why mentorship matters. That is why journalism matters. That is why having friends who speak the truth, even when it stings, matters. Because left to ourselves, we will always find ways to justify, excuse, or ignore what needs to be addressed.
As I continue in my journey, I am learning to see accountability not as a burden but as a gift. Whether in journalism, leadership, or personal life, it is what keeps us grounded. It is what keeps us honest. And most importantly, it is what keeps us moving forward.
Because at the end of the day, if we had someone to hold us accountable, things really would be better.
🍿 Things that I have enjoyed recently:
I found Chimamanda’s conversation with Guardian UK’s Charlotte Edwards on cancel culture and writer’s block really interesting. Charlotte’s narration made it even more engaging.
David Brin sums this up aptly: "When it comes to privacy and accountability, people always demand the former for themselves and the latter for everyone else.”
The topic of accountability is very profound. I recall when I wrote about it a few months ago, I found myself reflecting inward. The truth is, our world would be far better if we had people who truly held us accountable. The absence of accountability in Nigeria is what makes Nigerian politicians and civil servants think they are smarter than the citizenry.
Thank you, Johnstone.