There is a curious species of political activist in Nigeria. He never organises a protest, never drafts a petition, never leads a march, and never risks a sunburn. His principal contribution to democratic engagement is to sit comfortably in an air-conditioned room—or somewhere in the diaspora—and demand that eminent Nigerians carry placards on his behalf. Lately, this distinguished armchair brigade has been calling on respected figures such as Bakare, Adeboye, Soyinka, Falana and Agbakoba to reenact the anti-Jonathan protests of yesteryears. Their logic is simple: if a medicine worked for one patient, it must work for every patient. Unfortunately, neither medicine nor politics operates that way.
Patently, the Jonathan years and the Tinubu years are incomparable. Under President Jonathan, Nigeria was like a lottery winner who had no idea what to do with the prize money and was spraying money like confetti at a carnival. Oil sold above $100 per barrel, yet the Nigerian economy drifted like a canoe whose paddler had misplaced both paddle and direction. Revenue flowed generously, but governance failed to tell the same story. The nation was earning heavily, yet drifting steadily towards the economic precipice. We did not require a prophet from Jerusalem, Washington or even my Imodi-Imosan to tell us that something was fundamentally wrong.
Today, the circumstances are fundamentally different.
Many of the eminent Nigerians now being summoned to the barricades are intelligent enough to distinguish between a government squandering abundance and one attempting to repair decades of accumulated economic distortions. They can compare records. They know that governance is not a beauty pageant where contestants are judged by applause from supporters but by measurable outcomes.
Further, many of these eminent citizens are reassured by what they perceive as the superior demonstrated competence of PBAT when compared with his principal contenders. Both Bola Ahmed Tinubu and Peter Obi served as governors for eight years within the same political generation, leaving behind records that are available for public scrutiny. While PBAT transformed Lagos into an economic powerhouse through institutional reforms, revenue expansion and strategic infrastructure development, Obi has publicly acknowledged that he did not build a single school during his eight-year tenure in Anambra State, preferring instead to emphasise savings and financial prudence. To many observers, the contrast between the developmental trajectories of both states speaks volumes about their respective visions of governance.
The other major contender, Atiku Abubakar, served for eight years as Vice President under President Obasanjo and was entrusted with significant national responsibilities. Yet questions have persisted regarding aspects of his stewardship, particularly the controversial sale of the Federal Government’s Aluminium Smelting Company at a price many Nigerians considered grossly below its perceived value. Coupled with the less-than-flattering assessments contained in the published reflections of his former principal, it becomes difficult for many discerning Nigerians to conclude whether this gentleman would have managed the present challenges better than PBAT. Indeed, while the supporters of both men have been among the loudest critics of the PBAT administration, it remains unclear precisely what alternative policies they would have implemented or what superior outcomes they would have delivered under the same circumstances.
More importantly, these eminent citizens understand that many of the painful policies Nigerians are enduring today—particularly the removal of fuel subsidies and the liberalisation of the foreign exchange market—are not acts of economic cruelty but prescriptions long recommended by economists and repeatedly avoided by leaders who feared the political consequences. Every administration before now had read the same diagnosis, but unfortunately none had the courage to undertake the surgery. So, while the patient may dislike the surgeon’s knife, the surgery is nevertheless necessary to save the patient’s life. Indeed, Nigeria today resembles a patient on an operating table. It is hardly the moment for anxious relatives to storm the theatre with placards demanding that the operation be halted simply because recovery has not arrived midway through the procedure.
Then there is the matter of global realities. There is the major US-Israel-Iran conflict and the attendant disruptions in energy markets and geopolitical stability. Such developments do not seek presidential permission before affecting local economies. To blame the PBAT administration for the economic pains occasioned by the conflict, particularly its impact on petrol prices and inflationary pressures, is like holding the captain of a ship responsible for ocean currents he neither created nor controls. Even the most gifted captain cannot command the tides, just as no President of Nigeria possesses the authority to dictate events in the Middle East. When missiles fly thousands of miles away and oil prices react accordingly, the consequences inevitably travel across borders and arrive at our filling stations, markets and households. To pretend otherwise is to confuse politics with magic. A fair assessment must therefore distinguish between problems created in Abuja and those imported from Tehran, Tel Aviv or Washington. While governments must always be held accountable for their decisions, they cannot reasonably be held responsible for every geopolitical earthquake, not of their own making but whose tremors are felt across the global economy.
There is also another two-pronged reality that many commentators conveniently ignore. Politics is never played in a vacuum. President Tinubu is not merely contending with economic challenges. He is also navigating powerful political currents. Among his critics are irreconcilable tribal partisans—individuals who would rather entrust power to a less accomplished candidate from their own ethnic stock than acknowledge merit in a political opponent. For such persons, performance is secondary; identity is everything. Nothing good can come out of a Tinubu Presidency in their estimation, and every achievement must somehow be explained away, diminished or denied.
On the second prong are elements within the old political establishment who are uncomfortable with being disconnected from the federal patronage networks that sustained them for decades. Their nostalgia is not necessarily for a better Nigeria but for a more familiar Nigeria—one in which access to the national treasury functioned as a birthright rather than a privilege. For this group, 2027 is less an election than a scheduled restoration project.
These are powerful political and economic forces. They have thrown everything at the PBAT administration.
They started with insecurity. Every setback was amplified. Every challenge was presented as evidence of imminent state collapse. Some even appeared eager for foreign intervention or foreign condemnation of the administration. Renegades, acting upon the strength of funds made available by sympathisers in the diaspora, reportedly engaged in relentless efforts to persuade the United States government to condemn and sanction Nigeria. However, upon its own evaluation of the situation, the United States concluded that what Nigeria required was not condemnation but cooperation and support in confronting terrorism and insecurity. That cooperation has yielded moderate successes against the forces of terrorism, although much work remains to be done.
Meanwhile, opportunistic local criminal elements have also seized the moment. Taking advantage of the fear and uncertainty generated by opposition narratives, kidnappers, bandits and assorted criminals have attempted to profit from public anxiety. The government therefore finds itself fighting both organised terrorism and opportunistic criminality simultaneously.
These, therefore, are the powerful headwinds against which the PBAT administration is navigating. Perhaps the eminent Nigerians being summoned to the barricades can see these realities. Perhaps they recognise that the country is undergoing painful but necessary repairs rather than deliberate destruction, and that leadership should be judged not merely by today’s discomfort but by tomorrow’s destination. Or perhaps they simply refuse to become chauffeurs for passengers who insist on directing the journey from the back seat. Besides, these distinguished gentlemen are not getting any younger and may understandably prefer the comfort of wisdom to the rigours of placard-carrying in the hot Lagos sun.
Thus, those who desire placards are free to carry them, while those who desire reforms are equally free to support them. But those who say it cannot be done should avoid obstructing those who are attempting to do it. After all, in a democracy every citizen may carry a placard. But no citizen is under any obligation to carry another man’s political luggage.
For me, and for many who support the reform efforts of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, what Nigeria needs at this moment is not confrontation, perpetual agitation or politically manufactured outrage. What the country needs is understanding, patience, support and hope.
The unanswered question remains simple: would those now demanding placards have done any better? Or would they merely have prescribed the familiar cocktail of subsidies, palliatives and borrowed comforts that postponed the reckoning while deepening the disease?
History teaches that difficult cures are rarely popular while they are being administered. Singapore’s experience reminds us that reforms often attract resistance before they produce results. Nations are not transformed by avoiding hard decisions; they are transformed by confronting them.
President Tinubu may not be perfect, and no President is. But he inherited a deeply troubled patient and commenced treatment that many before him lacked the courage to prescribe. The treatment is painful. The recovery is gradual. Yet there are increasing signs that the patient is responding.
That, perhaps, is why many of those being invited to carry placards in 2026 may respectfully decline the invitation.
The Constitution guarantees every citizen the right to protest. Those who wish to carry placards are perfectly free to do so. What democracy does not guarantee, however, is the compulsory enlistment of Bakare, Adeboye, Soyinka, Falana, Agbakoba—or even PABIEKUN—into every political procession. Some may simply have concluded that, at this stage of the journey, Nigeria needs less noise, more patience; less theatre, more therapy.
PABIEKUN.COM
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