Opinion
Academic Culture And Automatic Writing
Borehole drillers would tell us that the deeper the drilling penetrates into the soil, the smoother and less stressful the sinking, especially after reaching the level of underground water. This observable principle applies in every human engagement which demands diligent application of ability and volition. Initial stress and strain in the process of any activity are normal and meant to separate worthwhile need and aspiration, from desultory prospecting or gambles. The old cliché saying that “the higher you go, the cooler it becomes”, is quite correct. Same the deeper also.
Aeronautic engineers would also tell us that it takes a greater thrust power for an aircraft to take off from the ground, than required for cruising. In academic learning engagement, this same principle also applies, such that those who do not have dogged persistence and zeal to learn, often drop out from the endeavours. Dogged persistence and zeal can be translated to mean making some personal sacrifices which sociologists call deferred gratification. The concept of deferent gratification means investing in a worthwhile future goal by foregoing present comfort.
Academic culture includes the personal discipline of remaining focused, persistent and committed to the task at hand. The tag of “withdrawal for academic failure” (WAF) can be quite traumatic, but it is a tag depicting unseriousness on the part of any student dropping out from academic engagement.
Like borehole drilling, academic culture seeks to drill students up to the point of reaching the level of underground water, through the discipline of dogged persistence. Without such discipline or impetus, it would be difficult to get to the point of cruising independently on self-grown wings. There is a common flaw in the academic culture, just at the point of reaching the zone of underground water. It is not commonly recognised that there are underground spring flow of water, and then the common pool or basin.
It is a great joy to reach a cruising level and even a greater joy to converge at an assembly pool where one can romp and rest. Very rare drillers of the academic hue seek to recognise the source of the spring water, rather than remain in the common pool or basin. The result of this complacent attitude is seen quite visibly in the products of academic endeavours. Getting high-sounding certificates requires demonstrating that the academic driller has interacted with and absorbed the knowledge from the custodians of the pool of wisdom. A fitness test of diligent drilling!
A 180-page scholarly thesis or dissertation would be richly adorned with a long bibliographical references of 140 citations, made up of books, journals and every proof that one has read vast volumes of literature. Without such academic ritual it would be difficult to impress and convince board of examiners that one is fit to be admitted into the hallowed chamber of academic gurus. So, long bibliographical references make the wise academia.
Yet, there is a danger of missing out something quite vital. Drillers recognise the truth that beyond the first level of underground water, there are various other mansions and springs of purer water. Yet, beyond all water resources, there are other rarer gems rarely known to majority of humans. This is where the issue of automatic writing comes in. despite many books on every conceivable area of knowledge and activity available, we cannot say that every knowledge comes from books or ends in books.
The academic culture of debating and arguing forward and backward, often called brain-storming, gives the impression that no one knows it all. It is also true that the concept of knowledge does not place any limit or boundary on the knowledge bank. Yet, dogmatic assertions and arrogance are common traditions of the academic industry, whereby camps exist for the custody and preservation of theory-based knowledge. For certain aspects and limits of knowledge there can be camps and absolute claims, but wisdom flows irrespective of such claims.
Like a vast and limitless ocean, there is a spring from which endless water of wisdom flows and also accessible to a few people who recognise the mechanism of its dynamics. Like the borehole driller, drilling stops when there is enough water-yield, but that limit does not define total volume of underground water. Neither can anyone exhaust the contents of the fountains of wisdom. The most any one can do is to take according to need and ability.
A few people who meet the necessary requirements find that when deeply absorbed in the exploration of some values, the brain gets open to absorb some radiations. As they sit down to write down ideas flowing into their consciousness, the pen they hold and their hands merely flow freely and automatically but effortlessly. During such moments, they would neither consult any literary material nor want to be distracted. The pen flows on paper automatically as ideas flow in their consciousness. Once this automatic flow is disrupted, the flow of ideas ceases, neither can a reconnection resume immediately, until another session, or the ideas vanish.
Similarly, once there is the urge to consult some authority or literary sources, the free flow of ideas would stop. In many cases, the automatic writer would wonder how and where the ideas which he writes with much ease, come from. Going through the written work, many of the ideas, even though quite logical, would appear strange and uncommon. Then there can be the temptation to reshape and re-cast the script, so that it would be agreeable to a mundane public. This is how inspired writings come about.
The automatic writer can be described as a medium who merely writes down ideas dictated to his consciousness from some rarefied channels of wisdom. Time and space often vanish in this process, making it possible for events of remote past, in distant places, to flood into the mind as if they are being experienced. There can also be a glimpse into future events.
Dr Amirize is a retired lecturer from the Rivers State University, Port Harcourt.
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
