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When brilliance is mocked: The ₦200,000 reward that shamed Nigeria

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Nafisa Aminu

When Brilliance is Mocked: The ₦200,000 Reward that Shamed Nigeria

By: Lamara Garba Azare

In the theatre of nations, where countries display what they value most, Nigeria once again played the wrong script. On the 28th of August, 2025, the Federal Government stood before the world and, with fanfare, announced a ₦200,000 cash reward for Nafisa Abdullahi, a 17-year-old girl from Yobe State, who had just conquered the globe at the TeenEagle Global English Championship in London.

It should have been a moment of national pride the triumph of intellect, the victory of knowledge, the vindication that Nigerian children, though raised in broken classrooms with tattered textbooks, can still outshine peers from nations where education is richly funded. Instead, the moment was reduced to farce.

The prize was ₦200,000. Not a scholarship. Not a lifelong educational support package. Not even a promise of sustained recognition. Just ₦200,000 money that vanishes before the ink on a bank teller’s slip dries. And shamelessly, the same government invited the girl and her parents to travel all the way from Damaturu to Abuja for the presentation. Anyone who knows the realities of transportation, accommodation, and feeding on such a trip will realise that the ₦200,000 reward barely covers the expenses of the journey itself. By the time they return to Yobe, how much of the so-called “national honour” will be left? This is not recognition. This is mockery.

The insult was sharper because of what came before. Just weeks earlier, the same government gave $100,000 each over ₦160 million to Nigerian athletes who returned victorious from global tournaments. Sportsmen celebrated like kings, while a girl who carried Nigeria’s flag through intellect was treated like a beggar appeased with coins. This contrast is not just unfair. It is a scandal. It is a window into the soul of a government that speaks loftily of education but starves it in practice.

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Sports have their place. Football unites nations; athletes inspire. But is it not education that sustains nations long after the cheers in the stadium fade? When Nigeria gave ₦160 million to footballers, it was hailed as generosity. When Nigeria gave ₦200,000 to Nafisa, it exposed a tragic hierarchy of values: here, knowledge is cheap. Here, intellect is disposable. Here, the very foundation of progress is treated as an afterthought.

₦200,000 in today’s Nigeria barely covers a semester’s tuition in a private university. It cannot buy a modest laptop and a year’s reliable internet. It cannot even cover the travel expenses for Nafisa to attend the very competition she conquered, had sponsors not intervened. Meanwhile, ₦160 million is enough to pay for a PhD at Harvard, buy a house in Abuja, and still have funds left to establish a scholarship foundation. This is not about envying athletes. It is about exposing the imbalance in our governance. Why is brawn valued more than brain? Why is intellect seen as unworthy of investment?

This ₦200,000 reward is not just a mistake; it is a philosophy — the philosophy of spectacle over substance. Governments love the visibility of sports victories: stadiums roar, cameras flash, politicians clap. Intellectual triumphs, by contrast, are quieter, less glamorous, and less “profitable” politically. So they are dismissed with tokenism. Yet, it is ideas, not athletics, that build civilizations. Japan rose from the ashes of war not through football, but through science and education. South Korea transformed from poverty to prosperity by grooming engineers, doctors, and innovators. Singapore became a global giant by making education sacred. Nigeria, however, prefers medals to minds, applause to intellect, noise to knowledge.

Imagine if Nafisa’s victory had been met with a life-changing scholarship perhaps to study at one of the world’s leading universities. Imagine if the government had created an “Intellectual Heroes Fund” to support students who conquer global competitions. Imagine if the President himself had hosted her in Aso Rock and told every Nigerian child watching: See what books can do. This is the path to greatness. Instead, Nafisa received ₦200,000 less than what a minister might spend on a single lunch. Her victory, which could have been a rallying point for millions of children, was reduced to a footnote in the news.

Nafisa’s story is not just about her. It is a metaphor for the Nigerian child. In every rural school where pupils sit under leaking roofs, in every city classroom where teachers go unpaid for months, the same message echoes: education is not valued here. How many brilliant youths have fled abroad with their talents because at home they were mocked with crumbs? How many have settled for mediocrity because their society told them that brains don’t matter? When the government presented ₦200,000 to Nafisa, it was not just a gift. It was a signal loud and clear that excellence in education is worth less than a handshake.

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Nigerians, long used to disappointment, still found this too much to swallow. Social media exploded with outrage. One father wrote online: “My daughter saw this story and asked me, Daddy, is it better to be a footballer than to be intelligent? I had no answer.” That is the damage done not just the insult to Nafisa, but the discouragement of millions of children who now see that the path of books leads only to mockery.

Elsewhere in the world, intellectual triumphs are immortalized. Pakistan rallied behind Malala Yousafzai, and today she is a Nobel laureate. India celebrates its top students with scholarships and mentorship. Rwanda invests heavily in its brightest minds. Nigeria, by contrast, splashes billions on politicians’ allowances and football banquets, but offers mere tokens to its intellectual heroes.

This is bigger than Nafisa. It is about the soul of Nigeria. A country that trivializes education cannot develop. A country that rewards muscle over mind will remain trapped in mediocrity. A country that mocks brilliance will drive its best and brightest away. What is needed is not token cash rewards but a shift in philosophy a recognition that investing in education is not charity but national survival.

And yet, Nafisa’s victory must not be lost in the scandal. Despite the mockery of ₦200,000, she remains a shining light. She has proven that Nigerian children can rise above poverty and neglect to shine before the world. Her triumph must inspire, not depress. Let every child know: your worth is not determined by the crumbs offered by government. Knowledge is priceless. Brilliance is its own reward.

In the end, it is Nigeria, not Nafisa, that has been shamed. A nation that rewards genius with peanuts has revealed its poverty of vision. But history is clear: nations that neglect education collapse under ignorance, while those that nurture it rise to greatness. One day, Nigeria will remember that it once mocked brilliance with ₦200,000 and perhaps by then, it will understand the true cost of its shame.

When Brilliance is Mocked: The ₦200,000 Reward that Shamed Nigeria

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Opinion

A coup trial without precedent, By Farooq Kperogi

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Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism 
Farooq Kperogi

A coup trial without precedent, By Farooq Kperogi

came of age in Nigeria during absolutist, totalitarian military regimes and was shaped by the anti-military rhetoric and activism that surrounded me.

Although democracy hasn’t lived up to its promises, which has fueled what I consider misguided and amnesiac nostalgia for military rule, I would rather we fix our badly deformed civilian system through trial and protest than return to the dark days of brutal military monocracy.

That is why news of an alleged abortive coup plot last year unsettled me, particularly because many of those implicated are northern Muslims. In a country riven by deep primordial fissures, I doubt we can recover from the northern-led overthrow of a civilian government headed by a southerner.

The Defence Headquarters initially denied it. It described reports of a coup attempt as not just “false and misleading,” “entirely false,” and “malicious” but as deliberately fabricated to “cause unnecessary tension and distrust among the populace.”

The Director of Defence Information, Brigadier General Tukur Gusau, said what Sahara Reporters described as a coup was merely “indiscipline and breach of service regulations” by 16 officers who felt stymied by “perceived career stagnation caused by repeated failure in promotion examinations, among other issues.”

But news platforms such as Sahara Reporters, Premium Times, and Daily Trust quoted unnamed sources in the upper echelons of the military and the Tinubu administration who insisted the Defence Headquarters was being economical with the truth and that there had indeed been a real attempt to overthrow the government.

The confidence with which these reports were presented, despite the anonymity of the sources, led me to write my November 1, 2025, column titled “The Coup That Dare Not Speak Its Name,” in which I argued that the government owed the public transparency about what had happened.

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I wrote: “Secrecy accelerates suspicion. Nigeria’s citizens have matured politically; they can process national challenges without descending into chaos. Shielding the public from reality infantilizes the electorate and breeds cynicism.”

On January 26 this year, the Defence Headquarters, which had earlier dismissed the reports as “false and misleading,” made a dramatic reversal and acknowledged that there had indeed been a plan to violently overturn the Tinubu government. It also said the implicated officers would face military tribunals.

After multiple peaceful protests by the wives and relatives of the accused, formal charges were eventually filed. Six suspects, including a retired major general and a serving police inspector, were charged with terrorism and treason. In a 13-count charge sheet, the federal government alleged that they “conspired with one another to levy war against the state to overawe the president of the Federal Republic.”

Although respected analysts such as Chidi Odinkalu have questioned the plausibility of the evidence cited in media reports to substantiate the alleged coup, I do not have sufficient information to independently assess the credibility of the claim.

What is not in dispute, however, is that what we are witnessing is uncharted territory. Since Nigeria’s independence, there is no clear record of military officers being tried for an alleged coup attempt under a civilian administration.

The closest parallel is the 2004 episode during the Obasanjo presidency, when the government announced that it had uncovered and foiled a coup plot. The Guardian quoted presidential spokeswoman Remi Oyo as saying that Hamza al-Mustapha, then in prison in Lagos, was suspected of involvement.

From what I recall, that episode produced neither a formal court-martial proceeding nor a full civilian trial. Instead, scores of senior and mid-level officers were detained, questioned and then retired or dismissed. What is unfolding now is therefore without precedent.

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This is why the intervention of respected human rights lawyer Femi Falana deserves careful attention. In an April 23 statement, he called for the immediate suspension of the government’s secret court-martial of 36 soldiers accused of plotting a coup. He described the proceedings as unconstitutional, illegal and a violation of due process.

Falana argued that trying the soldiers behind closed doors undermines transparency and the right to a fair hearing, especially in light of the gravity of the charges against them. His central legal contention is that offences such as treason and terrorism fall within the jurisdiction of civilian courts, not military tribunals, even when the accused are soldiers.

He warned that subjecting some suspects to court martial while others implicated in the same alleged plot face civilian prosecution creates a two-track system of justice that affronts the principle of equality before the law.

He urged the Attorney-General to halt the military proceedings, transfer the case to the Federal High Court, and ensure that all suspects are tried openly and uniformly under civilian law.

Falana’s argument raises a deeper question that goes beyond this case. What does it mean to be governed by law in a democracy that still carries the institutional reflexes of military rule? A state that derives its legitimacy from and is bound by the constitution cannot choose opacity when transparency is inconvenient, nor can it apply different standards of justice to people accused of the same crime.

If the government is confident in the strength of its case, in the unimpeachability of its evidence against the accused, it should have no fear of public scrutiny. I know there is legitimate argument to be made about the risk of inspiring copycats if the trial is open, but coups are not crimes of imitation like bank robberies. They require coordination, access to arms, insider networks, and timing. Those conditions are not created by watching a public trial. If they exist, secrecy will not eliminate them.

Second, secrecy is more likely to breed suspicion than prevent instability. When the state hides proceedings, it invites rumors, conspiracy theories, and loss of trust, which can be more destabilizing than any supposed copycat risk.

Third, transparency is a deterrent. A public, evidence-based trial exposes the consequences of plotting against the state and demonstrates that institutions can respond lawfully. That is more likely to discourage would-be conspirators than embolden them.

Fourth, courts already have tools to protect genuinely sensitive information. Specific details can be redacted or heard in camera without turning the entire process into a secret proceeding.

But there is also a broader political risk. In a country with a long and traumatic history of coups, secrecy around allegations of military insurrection heightens suspicion. When the government first denied the existence of a coup and later admitted it, it created a credibility gap that only openness can close. Conducting trials behind closed doors only deepens that gap and invites speculation about what is being concealed.

If the accused are guilty, a transparent trial will expose their culpability and reinforce the legitimacy of the state. If they are not, secrecy will have compounded injustice. Either way, opacity serves no one except those who benefit from weakening public trust in institutions.

If the suspects are found guilty through a fair, transparent and evidence-based process, they should face the full consequences of their actions. I would never defend any attempt to seize power through violence. But guilt must be established beyond all shadows of doubt. It is not enough to allege; the government must prove its case in the open.

 

 

Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism.

A coup trial without precedent, By Farooq Kperogi

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Tinubu’s Yoruba agenda risks deep rupture in Kwara, By Farooq Kperogi

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Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism 

Tinubu’s Yoruba agenda risks deep rupture in Kwara, By Farooq Kperogi

Intra-state cultural and subregional tensions are building up in Kwara State ahead of the 2027 governorship elections because of credible worries that President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s all-too-well-known Yoruba nationalist agenda is about to upend the state’s harmony through candidate imposition.

First, some background. Like several states in the country, Kwara is a multi-ethnic and multicultural state. It’s customary to divide it into three distinct geo-cultural zones. There is Kwara Central, which encompasses all of Ilorin and its adjoining areas. It’s linguistically Yoruba but ethnically a mixed bag of people who trace ancestry to Yoruba, Fulani, Kanuri, Baatonu (or Bariba), Hausa, and Nupe ancestors but who are, for all practical purposes, Yoruba. It is a little over 6 percent of the state’s landmass but constitutes 38 percent of the state’s population.

Then there is Kwara South, the most ethnically homogeneous part of the state, which is wholly Yoruba and, in many ways, culturally and linguistically indistinguishable from the Southwest. It is a little over 18 percent of the state’s landmass and 30 percent of its population.

Kwara North is the most ethnically diverse geo-cultural region and is peopled by the Baatonu (or Bariba), Bokobaru, Nupe, and Fulani. It is the non-Yoruba-speaking part of the state that constitutes more than 75 percent of the state’s landmass and 32 percent of its population, although Moro, a small part of Ilorin Emirate, was mysteriously grafted onto Kwara North. Nonetheless, the Nupe, Fulani, Baatonu, and Bokobaru people are culturally closer to the far North than they are to any part of the state.

Since the restoration of civilian rule in 1999, Kwara Central, that is, Ilorin Emirate, has dominated the governorship of the state. By the time of the next governorship election in 2027, Kwara Central would have ruled for 20 out of 28 years.

Kwara South produced the governor for eight years, from 2011 to 2019. Abdulfatah Ahmed, from Ifelodun Local Government, is from Kwara South.

But the entirety of Kwara North has never produced a governor for even a day since 1999, and only for a year and 10 months since 1992.

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Kwara State governor Abdulrahman Abdulrazaq, from all indications, is committed to course correction in 2027 by supporting a rotation of power to Kwara North. A news report I read said he is lending support to Yakubu Danladi Salihu, the Speaker of the Kwara State House of Assembly, who is from Baruten, the second-largest local government in the country, to succeed him. It may not be true, but it has crystallized in public perception.

Senator Sadiq Suleiman Umar, who represents Kwara North in the Senate and who is from Kaiama, is another contender who enjoys widespread support to succeed Abdulrazaq. Both Baruten and Kaiama used to be part of Borgu Local Government before one half of it was ceded to Niger State in the early 1990s.

Yet although consensus, even among prominent players in Ilorin, appears to be coalescing around the idea that the remnant of Borgu in Kwara State, that is, Baruten and Kaiama, should produce the next governor (because the Nupe briefly produced a governor in the aborted Third Republic), it is said that President Tinubu insists that a Yoruba person from Kwara South must be governor.

Widespread whispers indicate that Tinubu’s preference for Abdulrahman’s successor is a certain Bashir Omolaja Bolarinwa, who hails from the same local government as former governor Ahmed and who used to be a local government chairman in Lagos.

A self-described “Yoruba irredentist” who has privileged access to people in Tinubu’s inner circle told me a few days ago that Tinubu wants to use his presidency to advance his sense of a pan-Yoruba agenda and be seen as the reincarnation of Oduduwa.

To that end, he said, Tinubu wants to force the election of “Yoruba” governors in Kwara and Kogi states. Since I didn’t listen in on any conversation where Tinubu said this, I can’t be certain that it’s entirely true, but given what I have described as Tinubu’s studied “Visibilization of Northern Yorubas” in my October 11, 2025, column, it would not surprise me if it were true.

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But it would be a grave error of judgment to railroad Yoruba governors in multi-ethnic states, particularly in Kwara State. First, as I have pointed out, a person from Kwara South has been governor for eight years.

Second, Mohammed Lawal, Kwara’s first governor in the Fourth Republic, although from Ilorin, self-identified as Yoruba and performed many symbolic acts to signal that.

In fact, Governor Abdulrazaq, although a cosmopolitan person who seems to transcend ethnic and religious boundaries, is Yoruba. At least that was what one Sheikh Abdulrahim Aduranigba said seven years ago when he contrasted him with the PDP candidate for the governorship election.

“We have adopted Abdulrazaq as our governorship candidate because he is a Yoruba, and we have instructed him to conduct his campaigns in Yoruba language,” THISDAY quoted him as saying. “The PDP candidate is Fulani, and we challenge him to conduct his campaigns in Fulani language.”

In other words, the Yoruba are not a marginal group in Kwara that need saving by a reincarnated Oduduwa. The people who need “saving” are the non-Yoruba-speaking people of the state who have never produced a governor.

Third, the pushback that the imposition of a governor on account of his ethnic identity would invite could plunge the state into crisis. Ilorin people will resist it. People in Kwara North will resist it, and it will cause needless friction with the south of the state.

Interestingly, Tinubu’s second most prominent traditional title after “Asiwaju” is “Jagaban Borgu.” Kwara’s Kaiama and Baruten local governments, which have never produced a governor for the state since its founding in 1967, are one half of Borgu. It would be ironic if the champion of Borgu (that’s what Jagaban Borgu means) champions the political exclusion of the people he is symbolically supposed to lead and protect.

Tinubu himself is president because of a deliberate policy of positive political discrimination called power rotation, and he is anchoring his reelection on the basis that the South must complete its eight years, like the North before it.

As I have repeatedly pointed out, political representation at the highest levels is more symbolism than substance. Although the nature of ethnocratic governance we call democracy ensures that people in positions of power give preferential treatment to their kind and places of origin, for the most part, all politicians are the same. They first take care of themselves, their families, friends, and associates before the crumbs spread to their “people.”

Yet political representation is the symbolic conduit through which people vicariously connect with governments. When people of Ayetoro Gbede demonstrated the other day, telling Nigerians to leave their “son” Joash Amupitan alone, even though his past tweets question his neutrality and therefore his suitability as INEC chairman, I understood where they were coming from. He is the symbolic conduit through which they connect to the government. Ours is an ethnocracy, not a democracy.

That’s why it’s my long-term belief that the surest way to sustain the form of government we practice now is to deepen and constitutionalize representational equity. No ethnic group should dominate leadership because it has profound implications for psychic exclusion and the predilection to violence.

Baruten, Kaiama, Patigi, and Edu local governments, the non-Yoruba-speaking local governments in the state, are some of the least developed and most backward places in Nigeria. The first roads were tarred in Baruten only a little over a decade ago, and they are already death traps. Most towns are not connected to the national grid, and healthcare is among the worst.

A governor from the area will be compelled by ethnocratic pressures to attend to the most egregious infrastructural deficits that previous governments overlooked.

Let me end with a full disclosure: I am from Baruten Local Government of Kwara State and therefore from “Kwara North.” But my concerns are located in my broader concerns about representational justice, about which I have written in regard to other parts of the country.

Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism

Tinubu’s Yoruba agenda risks deep rupture in Kwara, By Farooq Kperogi

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How opposition Tinubu would treat President Tinubu, By Farooq Kperogi

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Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism 
Farooq Kperogi

How opposition Tinubu would treat President Tinubu, By Farooq  Kperogi

You may resent Bola Ahmed Tinubu, but you can’t deny that he has earned his place in Nigerian political history as one of the, if not the, most consequential opposition figures in Nigeria’s Fourth Republic. He constructed a carefully planned political and rhetorical template to oppose central governments effectively and then converted the symbolic capital he gained into a path to the presidency.

By May 29, Tinubu will mark his third year as president. He is beset by the same constraints his predecessors faced and is reacting to opponents almost exactly as they did, perhaps with even more viciousness and guile.

But the opposition seems to be in the wilderness. It is flustered, incoherent, spineless, and in strategic disarray. It would do well to study how an opposition Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu would have confronted an increasingly tyrannical and devious President Bola Ahmed Tinubu.

If Bola Ahmed Tinubu were in opposition today, watching a president preside over widening and deepening oceans of blood and rising insecurity, constrict the space for alternative parties, intensify economic hardship and offer only perfunctory condolence optics amid horrendous mass slaughters, he would launch a sustained, strategic, organized, merciless and unsparing regime of critical engagement using every available medium. We know this because we have a record of him doing precisely that.

My recollection of his key moves as an opposition politician aren’t intended to be exhaustive. They are merely representative.

In March 2013, for instance, in remarks widely reported at the time, Tinubu said that if President Goodluck Jonathan could not guarantee security, he should “honorably resign.” By November 2014, his tone had hardened. According to TheCable, Tinubu said that in any serious country Jonathan would have resigned over the scale of insecurity in the country.

In the same 2014, he accused Jonathan’s government of “failure, lack of capacity, vision and creativity” and of misleading Nigerians about the true state of security.

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That is the vocabulary Tinubu reaches for when he is not in power. He did not treat insecurity as a complicated policy arena deserving of cautious language. He treated it as evidence of unfitness for office.

An aggregation of all his statements about the insecurity that pervaded the country when Jonathan was in government (which has become worse on his watch) amounted to this: insecurity equals loss of legitimacy. That was one of his most potent rhetorical blitzkriegs against Jonathan, which traveled beyond the shores of Nigeria.

The same pattern holds for economic distress. On January 11, 2012, in an article published by PM News, Tinubu attacked Jonathan’s removal of fuel subsidy, dubbing it the “Jonathan tax.” He said the policy breached the social contract between the rulers and the ruled, described it as a punitive imposition on the poor and, crucially, urged Nigerians to resist it.

He wrote that citizens had a duty to “peacefully demonstrate and record their opposition.” That line matters. It shows that Tinubu, in opposition, does not merely diagnose hardship. He authorizes not just rhetorical dissent but physical rebellion against it.

Following his exhortation, there were disabling, convulsive and fatal nationwide protests and strikes. Tinubu aligned himself with that mood. He did not urge patience. He gave moral and political cover to resistance. Some even said he funded the protests, called “Occupy Nigeria,” in which at least 12 people died. It ultimately forced Jonathan to reverse the withdrawal of subsidies, which Tinubu is now implementing with more soullessness than Jonathan ever did.

He also does not leave resistance unorganized. On February 6, 2013, opposition parties merged into what became the All Progressives Congress. Tinubu was one of the principal architects of that coalition. The merger’s stated aim was to end corruption, insecurity and economic stagnation. It was a calculated attempt to convert grievance into power. Tinubu did not wait for electoral cycles to do their work. He engineered an alternative.

When he believed the Jonathan administration was using institutions against the opposition, he said so without equivocation. In January 2014, during the Rivers State political crisis, Tinubu described the disruption of opposition activity as “a frontal assault against democracy” and even a “coup against democracy.” In November 2014, after the chaos at the National Assembly, he again held Jonathan responsible. He saw pattern, not accident, and he said it plainly.

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He went further. In October 2014, when Jonathan sought legislative approval for a $1 billion loan to fight Boko Haram, Tinubu opposed it. He argued that the funds could be used for political purposes rather than security. In other words, he was willing to recast even security spending as partisan maneuvering. That instinct has not been erased by time.

Now bring this record forward.

On April 2, 2026, President Tinubu met victims of the Plateau killings at the airport rather than visiting affected communities, with the presidency citing time and logistical constraints. Strip away the explanations and look at it from the vantage point of opposition Tinubu. This is the sort of image he historically converts into a political weapon. He would not defend it. He would amplify it as proof of cold detachment and deadly incompetence.

In fact, the seemingly intractable and worsening sanguinary communal upheavals that are spreading all over the country and the rising mass abductions for ransom that seem to be unabating would have constituted more than sufficient grounds for opposition Tinubu to delegitimize the presidency of President Tinubu.

There is also the matter of political space. Tinubu’s own rise was made possible by the constellation of opposition forces. The 2013 merger was a deliberate construction of an alternative to an incumbent he portrayed as incompetent and anti-democratic. If he were outside power today and perceived any effort, real or imagined, to frustrate the emergence of rival parties, such as we are seeing with the ADC, he would not respond with restraint. His record from 2013 to 2015 shows a readiness to build countervailing structures and to accuse incumbents of undermining democracy.

In early 2013 when there were credible fears that INEC might block or frustrate the registration of the new opposition merger that became the APC, including the controversy over a rival party using the same acronym, Tinubu framed any attempt to deny registration as authoritarian sabotage of democracy by the president.

Tinubu’s stance as opposition was confrontational and absolutist. When he was outside power, he interpreted procedural or institutional resistance in maximalist terms as existential threats to democracy, not routine political or legal friction.

And he routinely blamed it on the sneaky wiles of the president, not the institutions that were responsible for the actions he railed against. Opposition Tinubu would have put the blame for INEC’s withdrawal of recognition of the David Mark-led leadership of the ADC squarely on President Tinubu’s desk and would have called it Tinubu’s fascist, cowardly, fear-inspired strangulation of a rival, oppositional political space.

What emerges from this is not a series of isolated reactions but a coherent oppositional method. Tinubu indicts insecurity as presidential failure, frames economic pain as betrayal, promotes and legitimizes physical public resistance, works to consolidate opposition power and heaps all blames for the misfortunes of the opposition on the president. He combined rhetoric with organization. He did not do half measures.

Tinubu in opposition would not recognize the defenses now offered on behalf of Tinubu in power. He would reject them, loudly and repeatedly, and he would mobilize against them.

Criticism of Bola Ahmed Tinubu on the grounds that his NADECO-era allies or Southwest loyalists no longer protest policies they had consistently condemned misses a basic truth about power. People rarely mobilize against themselves, their benefactors or the networks that sustain them. Expecting otherwise is naïve.

The more useful lesson is not to lament their silence but to study Tinubu’s own playbook when he stood outside power. He exemplified disciplined opposition, coalition building, strategic messaging and relentless pursuit of institutional leverage. Those outside the orbit of power should stop waiting for insiders to revolt and instead organize to displace them. Power is not donated; it is taken. Tinubu has proved that.

How opposition Tinubu would treat President Tinubu, By Farooq  Kperogi

Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism.

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