by Collins Nweke

Even as a passive watcher of the politics of Nigeria, I see some glaring shortcomings in its constitutional representation. This is clear in delayed by-elections, opaque primaries, underfunded electoral processes, and lack of institutional accountability. These have had far-reaching negative impacts on political, economic, and social development in Nigeria. My friend, Sulai Aledeh, who is the Managing Director of Edo Broadcasting Service, invited me for a conversation on constitutional representation. I saw an opportunity here for deeper thoughts. This is because on 16 August 2025, Edo State will be back to the ballot box. It now prepares for by-elections to fill the Edo Central Senatorial seat vacated by Governor Monday Okpebholo. Also on the ballot is the Edo South House of Representatives seat vacated by Deputy Governor Denis Idahosa. Nigerians must pause to consider on what constitutional representation truly means. These vacancies offer more than just procedural concern. They are symptomatic of a deeper ailment in Nigeria’s democratic journey, politically, economically, and socially.

Political Impact

Democratic disenfranchisement is real. Constituents lose legislative voice and advocacy when seats are left vacant. Constituency priorities, ranging from budget inclusion to policy debates, suffer in silence. Repeated delays in calling by-elections have caused disillusionment among citizens. Party primaries controlled by elites contribute to apathy. Big money politics and tokenistic engagements further increase distrust of governance.

Economic Impact

Economic implications are just as grave. Legislative seats attract developmental funds, federal budget lines, and economic empowerment programmes. A vacant seat equals a stalled economy at the grassroots. Edo, with its industrial and agricultural potential, stands to lose billions in federal intervention funds when representation is absent.

Social Impact

Without elected voices, social inclusion suffers. Communities feel marginalised. The youth are left out of policy frameworks that concern them. Representation ensures dignity and belonging. Its absence fosters resentment and unrest.

The Way Ahead: From Token Politics to People Power

Nigeria must institutionalise reforms that make representation prompt, transparent, and people-centered:

·      Automatic Vacancy Protocol: Once an office is vacated, by-elections must be scheduled within 45 days.

·      Transparent and Open Primaries: Let party members, not party elites, choose candidates.

·      BVAS and Live Streaming: Guarantee integrity and public confidence in electoral processes.

·      Scorecard Mandate: Legislators must publish annual scorecards for their constituencies.

·      Civic Education on Recall: Empower citizens with tools to hold elected officials accountable.

When representation fails, development falters. To reclaim our future, Nigeria must fix its democracy from the roots up. Edo offers us a chance to think and co-create.

Edo State’s unfolding vacancy process is emblematic of broader constitutional and operational challenges in Nigeria’s system of representation. In principle, the Constitution and Electoral Act offer a robust framework, but real-world implementation often diverges. This is especially so in time‑bound enforcement and resource allocation.

Comparable by‑elections in Cross River and Ondo in recent years show the mechanism’s potential when properly managed. But it  also shows fragility in the face of delay, underfunding, or insecurity. Reform efforts should focus on strengthening legal timelines, financial assurance for electoral administration, technology adoption, and deeper civic inclusion.

by Collins Nweke

In a recent Proshare Opinion Editorial titled Rethinking Integrity in Policy Advisory and Public Affairs Analysis, I posed a question. It was about propaganda in public governance. What exactly is it? At what point does message management become manipulative?. A couple of days back, a social media post critically reflected on Peter Obi’s political journey. It examined his impact on Nigeria. This provided us a case to study. The piece “The Biggest Hype!!!” is basically anonymous although it was signed off by the pen-name “Sir Soapy”. That alone disqualifies it from giving due attention. Which was exactly what I initially decided to do. I encountered it a few more times on various social media platforms. It was shared by persons that ought to be discerning enough. I felt a need to offer some commentaries on it.

What it was all about? In the piece, the author initially felt hopeful about Obi’s potential. This was especially noticeable after his speech during his bid for the PDP presidential ticket in 2023. Obi was seen as relatable. He resonated with the everyday frustrations of Nigerians. This led to the formation of the “Obi Movement.”

Yet, the author expressed disappointment in what he posited was Obi’s lack of concrete policies and solutions. Instead of presenting detailed plans, he only reiterated well-known issues. He wrote that Obi deserved criticism for not offering actionable solutions. The author compares Obi to a political opportunist, comparable to Trump in the U.S., who capitalizes on public frustration but lacks the substance to bring about real change. He went further to highlights Obi’s failure to strengthen the Labour Party. He touched on his alliances with discredited political figures, which undermines his credibility. The author concludes by questioning Obi’s leadership and urging people to ask what he truly stands for.

In effect Sir Soapy paints Peter Obi as a political opportunist. To him, he is someone who echoes the frustrations of Nigerians without offering real solutions. As I read, I thought that the critique can’t withstand even the lightest scrutiny. To debunk the critique is part of rethinking and reintroduction of  integrity in public affairs analysis and policy advisory.

The facts?

The truth is simple. Peter Obi has articulated one of the most comprehensive reform agendas. Nigeria has not seen such in recent decades.

Peter Obi is not just identifying problems. He offers solutions. Like all persons with governance integrity, he is on record to criticise only when he has a matching solution.

It’s fashionable for critics to claim Obi only repeats what Nigerians already know. These include the most obvious facts about how expensive governance is. That infrastructure is weak is a fact. That the people are suffering is equally clear. But they conveniently ignore his 62-page policy document, Our Pact with Nigerians. This document sets out a seven-pillar strategy. It addresses security, economic diversification, institutional reform, infrastructure, education, healthcare, and foreign policy.

For example:

• Energy & Industrial Policy: Obi proposed a twin-track energy plan combining immediate power stabilization with long-term green transition strategies.
• Economic Diversification: He pledged to move Nigeria “from consumption to production” through agriculture, manufacturing, and technology-driven innovation.
• Institutional Reform: Plans included devolution of powers, digitization of public services, and restructuring the security architecture.

If that’s ‘noise’ to the Obi critiques, then what does real substance look like?

These are concrete policies. They are publicly documented, costed, and benchmarked against global best practices (elections.civichive.org).

Obi has a track record, not just rhetoric

Critics love to ask, “What exactly has Obi done?” Well, as governor of Anambra State (2006–2014), he demonstrated prudent governance:

• Grew the state’s reserves, leaving ₦75 billion in savings.
• Rehabilitated education, making Anambra top in WAEC rankings.
• Revamped healthcare and infrastructure with measurable outcomes.

Compare this record to the fiscal recklessness of many of his contemporaries. You’ll see why Obi has credibility beyond campaign slogans.

Alliances are strategy, not betrayal

The author attacks Obi for engaging with figures like Atiku Abubakar, David Mark, or Nasir El-Rufai. But Nigeria’s political landscape is fragmented. Building a viable alternative requires coalitions, even with ideological differences. The choice of African Democratic Congress (ADC) party was a well considered one. You only need to check out the pedigree of ADC to underwrite the choice. Among other progressive dispositions of the party, it is the only party in Nigeria that has ingrained the Diaspora. The Diaspora is considered its 7th Region. This achievement is perhaps unique in Africa as a whole. This is while successive governments of Nigeria have failed to grant Diaspora Voting— just to keep it at one example.  

Let’s not forget: Obi publicly challenged Atiku to step aside for the good of Nigeria, saying, “Be a statesman. Support a candidate who can unify and deliver.” In the politics that should move Nigeria forward, alliances must be tools for change. They should not be proof of compromise. President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and late President Mohammadu Buhari were the unlikeliest political bedfellows. But did that stop them from forming a coalition? This coalition birthed the All Progressives Congress (APC). It then went ahead to wrestle power out of the hands of Africa’s largest political party, People’s Democratic Party (PDP)? No, it did not! One then wonders what the complaint about Obi and the coalition is all about.

Labour Party realities were beyond Obi’s making

Was the Labour Party fragmented? Yes. Is fragmentation a feature of African political organising? Yes. The internal party crises of the Labour Party existed before Obi’s entry. Legal tussles further complicated these crises. Even now, he continues to champion a broader Third Force coalition, showing that his ambition is about reforming the system. If anything, his actions and postures should be seen as those of a decent politician. He has no interest in clinging to a broken platform.

Obi is not Buhari, and certainly not Trump

Comparing Obi to Trump or Buhari is a false equivalence. Unlike Trump’s demagoguery or Buhari’s rigid silence, Obi’s politics is anchored in data, dialogue and policy. His interviews are filled with figures, examples, and lessons from other nations. He doesn’t thrive on division or populism. He has demonstrated directly and indirectly that he thrives on ideas. It is safe to assert that Obi is not a populist. He is a pragmatist who speaks in facts, not empty promises.

Now, let us get to the real question we should be asking

The critic ends by asking, “What exactly does Obi stand for?”

Here’s the answer, gleaned from public records and antecedents: prudence, accountability, and a Nigeria that works for all.

What Obi offers is not perfection. He offers a credible, realistic pathway out of national decay. Those who dismiss him as “noise” may not have read his policy documents. They might deliberately ignore his record. Others fear the political disruption he represents. The undue critiques of Peter Obi arise mainly from the desire to maintain the same old elite networks. They mock those who propose a different way.

In the end, this is not about Obi the man. It’s about Nigeria the nation. I am a non-card carrying member of any political party in Nigeria. I offer these commentaries or rebuttals if you wish, out of a desire to see integrity and decorum reintroduced in public affairs analysis and policy advisory role in Nigerian politics. Evidence does not support the assertion that Peter Obi is the ‘biggest hype.’ Rather, the reality is that he might be the clearest signal yet that Nigerians are demanding substance over sentiment. True patriots and friends of Nigeria should not be frightened by that. If the establishment is frightened by what Obi represents, let it deal with it. Leave the citizens out of it.

The Author Collins Nweke is Senior Consultant on International Trade and Economic Diplomacy. He served until December 2024 as Green Party Councillor at Ostend City Council Belgium for three tenures. He is a Fellow of the Chartered Institute of Public Management of Nigeria. He is also a Distinguished Fellow of the International Association of Research Scholars and Administrators. Collins has done extensive socioeconomic, advocacy, and governance work across Africa and Europe. His focus includes matters of governance, diaspora, equitable trade, and financial inclusion. Collins writes from Brussels, Belgium.

Reflecting on the passing of Muhammadu Buhari, Collins Nweke urges Nigerians to look into the “unforgiving mirror” of democracy. One question remains unanswered. What do we do after the mirror has revealed our blemishes?

The mourning has begun. It is not just for our former President, Buhari. It is also for the decade of drift and disappointment that his civilian presidency represents. Nweke’s essay rightly indicts both Buhari’s leadership and the citizens who chose him, not once, but twice. Yet, after the anger, the regret, and the national self-flagellation, what is next?

Reflection without reinvention is a dangerous indulgence. If all we do is remember, rant, and retreat, we doom ourselves. We will relive this trauma under new names and new faces. Legacy may haunt us, but only action can redeem us.

From Mourning to Movement

Buhari’s legacy is complicated but not unique. Nigeria has cycled through strongmen, soft men, and showmen. The pattern is familiar: promise, praise, power, and then betrayal. What if we stopped looking to personalities to rescue us? What if our obsession with “the right man” is the very illness we must cure?

Institutions, not individuals, sustain real democracies, yet Nigeria’s institutions remain fragile, captured, and underfunded. The judiciary, the electoral commission, the legislature — all dance to the tune of political patrons. Until this changes, we’ll continue to search for messiahs who will always disappoint us.

Democracy’s Healing Starts With Electoral Integrity

Nweke asked whether Nigerians truly chose Buhari, or if he was chosen for them. Both are true. The people voted. However, their will was shaped — even warped — by systemic manipulation. This includes media propaganda, compromised electoral systems, regional politics, and elite imposition.

The answer is not apathy, but active citizenship. What Nigeria needs now is a quiet but determined shift, one rooted in civic participation and electoral integrity. A future where every vote matters, every process is transparent, and every result reflects the true will of the people. Achieving this requires sustained investment in voter education. It also demands digital safeguards for election processes. Additionally, truly independent monitoring that goes beyond election day is necessary.

The Culture of Excusing Failure

Part of Buhari’s ascendancy was the cultural acceptance of mediocrity and selective amnesia. We hailed his “integrity” because he seemed less corrupt than others.  In our politics, character is often myth, not evidence. Nigerians prioritized perceived integrity over demonstrated competence. They valued personal morality (or the myth of it) more than actual ability to lead, govern, or solve problems.

To build a new Nigeria, we must abandon the culture of emotional voting. Voting for “our own” must be replaced with voting for those with ideas, records, and results. It begins in homes and classrooms, where civic education must be reborn. The next generation must learn that democracy is not a festival of tribes but a competition of visions.

A New Elite Must Emerge

Nigeria’s redemption will not come from the same class that ruined it. The current political elite has nothing new to offer. A new elite must emerge. They should be young, ethical, innovative, and locally grounded. Here’s the challenge: the current system is designed to keep them out. Electoral forms are overpriced. Party primaries are rigged. Political godfathers still decide careers. If we are serious about legacy, we must demand reforms. These reforms should lower the barriers of entry for independent candidates. They should also help ordinary citizens with extraordinary ideas.

Healing Is Political Too

Nweke’s call for reconciliation is noble, but healing in Nigeria can’t be emotional alone; it must be a political process. To heal, we must dismantle the architecture of injustice. We need to tackle impunity for security forces. We must resolve regional exclusion, economic disparity, and media suppression. This means dealing with past abuses. It means giving young people a seat at the table, not just hashtags and hot takes. It means moving beyond mourning Buhari, to burying the systems that enabled his failure.

Conclusion: Legacy Is Not What We Leave, But What We Build

Buhari is gone, yet the Nigeria he left behind remains fractured, hopeful, and unfinished. We may weep; still, we must rise to rebuild. The next chapter of Nigeria’s story must not be a repetition. It must be a rebirth, authored by citizens who refuse to be passive observers of their history.

If Buhari’s death marks an inflection point, then we must choose to curve upward. We must move toward justice. We must aim for vision and strive toward a nation that works for its people. The mirror has shown us the cracks. Now it is time to lay the bricks.

Let it be said not that we mourned, but that we moved. That we turned reflection into resolve, and grief into growth. In the end, democracy is not merely a mirror of our failures. It is a framework for our future. And that future is built not by nostalgia or noise, but by deliberate, difficult, and courageous choices.

The author, Emeka Anazia, is a Fellow of the Institute of Training and Occupational Learning – FITOL (UK). He is also a Global Transformation Integrator and co-creator of the PSG-4 Scaling Framework. He blends Nigerian human ability excellence with European systemic insights to help institutions worldwide embed sustainable innovation. Emeka trained in Nigeria and Sweden and is now based in Gothenburg, Sweden.

Dear African Youth

Allow me to start with what sounds like an insult. But I promise it is not. We your parents and grandparents, owe you an apology. An unreserved, full-bodied, unvarnished apology.

We messed up. We really, really messed up. Big time!

We were handed nations fresh from the womb of independence, brimming with hope, fertile with possibilities. We inherited the keys to kingdoms of gold, oil, cocoa, and diamonds. There were also palm trees and rivers that could sing wealth into eternity. And what did we do with them?

We squandered them.

Oh, we were dreamers once! We spoke of African Renaissance, Nation Building, Pan-Africanism. We wore flowing agbadas, khakis, and safari suits while delivering long speeches about “development”.  Somehow we developed only our bellies. In Nigeria, it has been christened stomach infrastructure. We were so busy attending conferences in Europe.  We were writing policy papers for the World Bank. But then we forgot to fix the potholes outside our own homes.

We built mansions of corruption and decorated them with imported greed. We danced with dictators in ballrooms of deceit. When democracy knocked, we opened the door, but only to turn it into a puppet show.

Yes, we are the generation that did not build institutions and industries. Yet we succeeded in building personal empires. We allowed tribalism to strangle unity. Religion was used to create divisions. Poverty spread like rabbits in the farmlands we abandoned. We sold your future for a brown envelope. We mortgaged your destiny for a seat at the table of foreign donors.

For the record, we even turned the Diaspora into a mere remittance machine. The Diaspora is the very lifeline that should strengthen the homeland. We ignored your voices abroad, refused you voting rights, and reduced you to photo opportunities during election season.

We apologize. Truly, we do.

“We couldn’t build nations but mastered the art of building excuses. We bequeathed you slogans where we should have left you systems.”

But my dear sons and daughters, nephews and nieces, listen carefully now. We have forfeited the moral authority to tell you how to lead. But we have a duty to warn you how not to lead.

• Do not repeat our laziness. Leadership is not about big speeches or shiny motorcades. It is about rolling up your sleeves and doing the boring, unglamorous work of building institutions that outlive you.
• Do not outsource your agency. Stop waiting for Europe, China, or America to save you. They have their own interests; yours are your responsibility.
• Do not romanticize the past. Our heroes were human. Learn from them, but do not idolize them to the point of paralysis.
• Do not become the social media generation of noise. Tweets don’t fix roads. Hashtags don’t feed the hungry. Memes don’t build economies. Turn your activism into actual systems.

Please, break this cursed circle. For the sake of your children, our grandchildren, and those yet unborn, you must dare to be better than us. You owe it not just to Africa, but to humanity.

“If we were the bridge generation, we turned that bridge into a tollgate of greed. Now you must rebuild it. Not for us, but for yourselves and our grandchildren.”

I know you may want to roll your eyes. “Look at them,” you may say, “after destroying everything, they are now giving us advice.” Yes, we are guilty. But even guilty parents can whisper hard-earned lessons into the ears of their children.

We have left you a broken continent, but also a blank canvas to paint on. Paint it boldly. Write your own story. Do not be satisfied to just survive; insist on thriving. And when you build the Africa we dreamed of but never delivered, do not be too harsh on our memory. Remember us, not as villains, but as a cautionary tale. See us as a proof that good intentions without courage are useless.

So yes, this is an apology, drenched in satire but washed in tears. We failed you. But you, African Youth, must refuse to fail yourselves and our grandchildren.

“Do not inherit our silence. Question everything. Challenge everything. Tear down what doesn’t serve you and rebuild what will serve generations.”

Closing Thought

“We resign our self-proclaimed seat of wisdom and hand you the steering wheel. Drive carefully, but for heaven’s sake, drive forward.”

History has placed in your hands both a burden and a blessing. May you carry the burden with resilience, and turn the blessing into a revolution of hope. Because if you don’t… well, you might just end up like us. And trust me, you don’t want that. Before we fade into the background like an old radio jingle, we leave you with three closing thoughts:

1. Don’t trust anyone who calls you leaders of tomorrow without giving you the tools to lead today.
2. When you seize the microphone of power, don’t sing or rewrite our old song. Write a new one.
3. If you must forgive us, forgive us with your success.

Signed

Collins Nweke | For and behalf of your tired, contrite, and forever regretful parents and grandparents

As Nigeria mourns a former leader, it must also mourn its own errors and vow to be wiser.

by Collins Nweke

Nigeria commits Muhammadu Buhari to Mother Earth today. As it does, we must confront the failures of one man. We also need to tackle the failures of our collective judgment. Legacy is not just what leaders leave behind. Legacy is also the wisdom or folly of the people who chose the leaders.

I turned 60 on 14 July 2025, a milestone for reflection. Yet as I marked my sixth decade, news broke from London of the death of Muhammadu Buhari. Nigeria’s former president, he died at the age of 82. It was a moment layered with irony and symbolism. Legacy, both personal and national, stood at the center of my thoughts. Femi Awoyemi wrote or spoke about my legacy. Emeka Anazia and John George also contributed. Others like Lola Visser-Mabogunje, Alistair Soyode, and Lili Chong added their thoughts. Uzonna Ononye, Femi Olaleye, and Kayode Elusoji shared their perspectives as well. There are many others too many to mention here. I was processing everything people had to say or write about me and my legacy. In that moment, Buhari intruded my thoughts! Buhari’s life and death compel Nigerians to look in the mirror, not merely to condemn but to learn.

Yet, even as we say Nigerians chose Buhari, there is an inner voice that refuses to be silenced. Did we truly choose him? Was Buhari brought to us by a clique of cabals? Did political elites whose wheeling and dealing override the people’s will play a role? The integrity of Nigeria’s elections remains a question mark, one that haunts every democratic transition. For many, Buhari’s rise was less about the ballot. It was more about the machinations of power brokers. These power brokers decide outcomes long before votes are cast.

Key takeaway? “When elections are captured, the people’s mandate becomes the cabal’s mandate. And the injury is collective.”

We must, therefore, confront this uncomfortable reality. The tragedy of Buhari’s presidency is not just about one man’s failure. It is about a system rigged by vested interests. This system mocks democracy while pretending to uphold it.

The political elites who bargain away the nation’s future in smoke-filled rooms must be aware. Their deals cause real pain to millions. Their manipulation breeds poverty, division, and despair. And history will one day call their names.

This is the moment for Nigerians to awaken to the truth. Silence in the face of electoral injustice is complicity. That democracy without integrity is merely tyranny in slow motion. That a captured election is not just an attack on the present. It is a theft from the future.

A Legacy Written in Bitterness and Hard Lessons

Buhari’s story is well-known. As a military ruler in the 1980s, he was a hardliner. He detained journalists. He trampled freedoms. He also enforced draconian decrees. Decades later, he rebranded himself as a “converted democrat,”. He resurfaced with a promise of anti-corruption reforms. Nigerians, weary of insecurity and economic stagnation, handed him power. Twice! Yet his eight-year civilian presidency (2015–2023) left the country more divided, poorer, and less secure. The #EndSARS protests ended in bloodshed. The economy slid deeper into recession. Corruption battles were selective. Terror and banditry raged unchecked.

Key takeaway? “One man can destroy more in eight years than a generation can rebuild.” The bitterness Nigerians feel today is absolutely justified. But it must not imprison us. Instead, it should fuel a national resolve to say: never again!

Here is the irony we can’t ignore! It is one of Nigeria’s greatest historical ironies. Buhari, whose authoritarian record was never hidden, was elected as a civilian president. We romanticized the past out of frustration with the present. We mistook fear for discipline. We believed the same iron fist that once dismantled freedoms could somehow fix democracy. In that moment, we chose nostalgia over reason, and it cost us dearly.

Key takeaway? “Not every change is progress. Sometimes, the devil you know is better than the one you invite in haste.”

From Bad to Worse: A Cautionary Tale

Buhari’s rise was also a backlash. Goodluck Jonathan was seen as weak, indecisive, too soft. In our rush to escape what we deemed “bad,” we embraced something worse. This is a lesson in political impatience. A democracy that jumps from flawed mildness to outright repression does not progress; it regresses. The Buhari years proved that not every strongman brings strength. Sometimes they bring stress and ruin.

As a people, we must begin to see our complicity as our responsibility. It is easy to heap all blame on Buhari. But democracy is collective. Nigerians chose him. Not once, but twice! We allowed propaganda, tribal loyalty, and frustration to cloud judgment. We ignored history. We prioritized sentiment over substance.

Key takeaway? “Legacy is not only about leaders. It is also about the wisdom, or folly, of the people who choose them.” Until Nigerians learn to interrogate history before endorsing the future, we will keep recycling the same failures.

Bitterness Must Birth Humility in Leaders

Legacy is a mirror. Today’s leaders must look into Buhari’s story and see themselves. Power is fleeting. Popularity is deceptive. History is unforgiving. If Buhari. once hailed as Nigeria’s “last hope” could leave behind a conflicted legacy, then no leader is immune. The Buhari era should humble all who hold office today. They must serve selflessly, govern justly, and remember that respect is earned, not inherited. Can Nigeria rise above bitterness? Can it embrace reconciliation for a better nation?

Mourning Buhari must not trap us in endless recriminations. Nigeria must reconcile. It must do so not to erase the pain, but to heal and rebuild. This is the time to bridge divides: North and South, Christian and Muslim, elite and masses. To forge a Nigeria where institutions, not personalities, hold the torch of progress.

Key takeaway?: “Buhari’s death is not just an end; it is an inflection point. Nigeria’s story is still being written.”

The Buhari debacle can be a golden chance for redemption. For public figures: politicians, business leaders, traditional authorities, Buhari is a wake-up call. If you have misused power, redeem it. If you have been complicit in corruption, renounce it. Legacy is not about perfection; it is about course correction while there is still time.

In the end, it is about legacy. Buhari’s life is over, but Nigeria’s future is still in our hands. Legacy waits for no one, but it will honor those who choose service over self. As I entered my sixth decade, I asked myself the haunting question: How will I be remembered? Buhari’s death is a sobering reminder that history remembers everything. The deeds we did, the choices we made, the opportunities we wasted. For Nigeria, this is a chance to heal, to learn, and to co-create the nation we want. The pen is in our hands.

Nigerians woke up this morning. They were greeted with news of further developments in the audacious push by Professor Pat Utomi. He is advocating for a Big Tent Shadow Government. This situation follows moves by President Bola Tinubu. He aims to stop him by legal means and any other ways deemed necessary. Utomi addressed the media after a two-day retreat of the shadow government in Abuja. He listed the members of his shadow government. The members include Nana Kazaure who is responsible for Information. Riwang Pam is in charge of Security. Nike Omola oversees Women and Gender Development. Peter Agada handles Infrastructure, Urban Development, and Housing.  

Those of us that only paid marginal attention to the news have been provided a reason to interrogate it further. In mature democracies, criticism is not sedition. Neither is accountability a rebellion. The controversy surrounding Professor Pat Utomi’s proposed “shadow cabinet” has triggered alarmist reactions from some quarters of government. But such panic is misplaced, unhelpful, and undemocratic. A shadow, after all, is not a threat. It is merely a reflection. And if governance is as solid as its leaders claim, then it should have no fear of reflection.

Professor Utomi’s initiative is, by all reasonable accounts, a commendable effort to fill Nigeria’s enduring accountability gap. His Shadow Government, when fully constituted is envisaged to include experts, opposition figures, and civic leaders. It seeks to watch, scrutinize, and offer policy alternatives to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration. It is not a parallel government. It does not wield state power. It is a civic, intellectual, and democratic instrument, akin to a watchdog NGO. You may even call it  an academic think tank with sharper teeth.

The concept of a shadow cabinet has deep historical roots in the Westminster parliamentary tradition. There, it emerged as a structured way for opposition parties to offer checks and balances to the ruling government. In the United Kingdom, as far back as the 19th century, opposition leaders began assigning specific roles. These roles mirrored those of government ministers. This practice allowed them to scrutinize policies, propose alternatives, and show readiness to govern. Over time, this evolved into a formal institution, adopted by many democracies around the world, parliamentary or presidential in nature. It is deployed as a tool to deepen democratic practice. Today, shadow cabinets are not confined to opposition parties within legislatures. They also find expression in civil society, academia, and professional circles. They serve as platforms for grooming substitute leadership, generating innovative ideas, and ensuring governments stay accountable between election cycles. As such, they are essential to building an enduring and resilient democracy.

The government’s response, yet, has been disappointingly heavy-handed. Security agencies have accused Utomi of attempting to usurp constitutional authority. They warn of chaos, instability, and hidden agendas. Yet, at no point has this initiative suggested an unconstitutional seizure of power. It simply seeks to play a role that institutions like the National Assembly often fail to do: rigorous policy scrutiny.

The question before us is this: Should a government elected with the mandate of the people fear accountability? Should it fear being held to account by the people?

The answer is a resounding no.

In fact, a healthy democracy thrives on plural voices. Shadow cabinets are commonplace in parliamentary democracies. This is the case in the UK, Canada, Australia. Even in emerging democracies like Ghana and Kenya, shadow ministers have clear roles. They track their official counterparts. They challenge policies. They present alternatives. Though Nigeria operates a presidential system, the core function of a shadow cabinet,  accountability and alternative thinking, remains profoundly relevant.

The objection that Nigeria’s constitution does not explicitly recognize a shadow cabinet misses the point entirely. The Nigerian Constitution provides important rights. Sections 39, 40, and 22 guarantee citizens the right to freedom of expression and association. They also ensure the right to hold the government accountable. Utomi’s shadow initiative falls squarely within these constitutional bounds. Attempting to shut it down through legal or security mechanisms would be not only undemocratic but also unlawful.

So, why the panic?

The real threat is not the shadow cabinet. The real threat is a culture of intolerance towards dissent. The real danger lies in equating critical civic engagement with political subversion. If a government fears scrutiny, then it must ask itself: What is it hiding?

On the contrary, President Tinubu has every reason to welcome the initiative. Here’s why:

• It offers credible feedback. Governments can sometimes lose touch with realities on the ground. A competent shadow cabinet provides informed, constructive criticism, free of sycophancy.
• It raises the quality of public discourse. We get policy alternatives. We also hear expert perspectives and engage in open debate instead of sterile partisan bickering.
• It strengthens institutions. The shadow cabinet models transparency and accountability. This can help pressure under-performing public institutions to rise to their mandates.
• It prepares future leaders. Shadow ministers can become tomorrow’s effective public servants, well-trained, policy-savvy, and ethically grounded.

Most importantly, embracing such initiatives would show that President Tinubu is confident in his leadership. After all, great leaders don’t fear opposition; they engage it. They understand that dissent is not disloyalty. They recognize that accountability is not antagonism.

What Nigeria needs now, more than ever, is a culture of constructive governance. This is an ecosystem where policies are debated, decisions are questioned, and leaders are held accountable without fear of reprisal. The political elite must stop viewing every critical voice as an enemy of the state. Democracy is not a monologue. It is a conversation. And conversations require other voices. Professor Utomi’s shadow cabinet is a bold, necessary voice in that conversation. Rather than seek to silence it, the government should lean in, listen, and even engage. Doing so would not only demonstrate maturity but would deepen the democratic fabric of Nigeria.

In the end, a government secure in its legitimacy and performance has no reason to be afraid of its shadow.

The author, Collins Nweke is a Nigerian-Belgian policy strategist. He is also a former municipal legislator in Belgium. Additionally, he advocates for economic diplomacy and diaspora engagement. He writes from Brussels.

What is the genuine cost of propaganda in public governance? At what point does message management become manipulation? And who truly benefits when policy guidance is filtered through a partisan lens, rather than a national one?

These are uncomfortable questions. Yet they are urgent and necessary for those who advise political office holders. This is so around the world. But it is particularly so across the African continent. The stakes there are often existential. Also, the margins for policy error in Africa is dangerously narrow.

A Brief History of Spin: From Subtle Persuasion to Statecraft Strategy

Propaganda is not new. Its origins stretch back centuries. From war-time morale boosting and religious evangelism, to colonial indoctrination. But in the 20th century, spin-doctoring matured into a refined political tool. Joseph Goebbels in Nazi Germany used it as a tool of power. Edward Bernays, known as the “father of public relations” in America, further institutionalized it for influence.

In post-colonial Africa, this playbook was adopted, adapted, and often abused. Governments, whether elected or not, crafted narratives. They did so to preserve legitimacy, silence dissent, and pacify the citizenry. This was often at the expense of truth and transparency.

One of the most emblematic figures in modern political spin-doctoring is Alistair Campbell. He was the formidable media strategist behind former UK Prime Minister Tony Blair. Campbell’s influence on communications strategy was as undeniable as it was controversial. He understood the power of narrative and the tempo of media cycles. Under his stewardship, the Blair government mastered ‘message discipline’ and often stayed ahead of the news agenda. This brought clarity and cohesion to government messaging, an undeniable blessing in a noisy political environment. But it also carried burdens. The machinery that made Blair’s team media-savvy brought accusations of excessive control. It also led to claims of suppression of dissent and media manipulation. This was particularly so in the lead-up to the Iraq War.

Campbell’s legacy forces today’s advisers to think: is the purpose of communication to inform or to influence at all costs? His career serves as a caution. Even the most sophisticated media strategies can erode trust if they are not grounded in truth. Advisers must learn from his brilliance without repeating the missteps of overreach and opacity.

But today’s reality demands more than clever slogans and orchestrated praise-singing. It demands results. It demands integrity.

When Propaganda Overshadows Policy

The role of a policy adviser is, or should be, sacred. Yet many advisers have gradually morphed into apologists. They act more like public relations agents, or worse. They sometimes even act like court jesters in corridors of power. The cost is visible. We see poor decisions masked as visionary. Crises are blamed on imaginary saboteurs. The public needs no policies spun as successes long before they touch the lives they claim to serve.

If the economy is good, citizens will feel it. You will not need to say it on radio or pay influencers to trend it. If inflation is down, the people will tell your story for you. If small businesses are growing, citizens will notice. If youth are employed, the populace will share the news. Public commentaries must cite real examples of accomplishments, not projections, not theories, but actual lives improved.

If the judiciary is incorruptible and non-partisan, it will be visible in their rulings. Citizens will not need to read communiqués to perceive justice. Landmark rulings will speak louder than press statements. Show incorruptibility through the accomplishments of the courts, not through empty speeches at legal conferences.

If political leadership is good and purposeful, the citizens will be affected by their actions. Not next year. Not after the next cycle. But now. Good leadership shows in accessible healthcare, quality education, roads that last, and electricity that stays on. It is not about projections, but real-time visible results.

So why, then, do many policy advisers resort to spin? Why the preference for optics over outcomes? Why is sycophancy mistaken for patriotism?

Allegiance Must Shift from Politicians to the People

Too many advisers align their loyalty to individual politicians, not to national good. The result is self-serving governance. Praising a failing administration only prolongs its failure. Masking incompetence only deepens the damage. Sycophancy is not patriotism. Allegiance should be to the national good. Not to individual politicians.

And when integrity is absent in advisory roles, policymaking becomes detached from reality. Advisers stop reading data and start reading the mood of their bosses. The goal becomes staying relevant, not telling the truth.

Reclaiming the Role: Where Do We Go from Here?

The world is watching Africa. The continent’s population is projected to double by 2050. The pressure to deliver smart, sustainable, and citizen-focused policies has never been higher. And that work begins, not with spin, but with truth.

Let us reintroduce integrity into policy advisory and public affairs analysis roles. Let us make room again for honesty, for the courage to say “No” when power demands applause. Let us counsel our leaders and run policy commentaries with data, not drama. Let public analysts be critics when needed, and champions when deserved. But never cheerleaders by default. Because in the end, propaganda may win the morning, but it is integrity that wins the future.

The Author Collins Nweke is a Senior Consultant on International Trade and Economic Diplomacy. He served until December 2024 as Green Party Councillor at Ostend City Council Belgium. He has done extensive work across Africa and Europe. His focus includes matters of governance, diaspora, fair trade, and financial inclusion. Collins writes from Brussels, Belgium.

With a fanfare my Belgian bank has been announcing for a while a new enhancement. Starting 1 July 2025, the bank will automatically check that the name of the beneficiary matches the account number. This check will occur before processing online transfers via its Banking App. This marks a significant step in strengthening financial integrity and fraud prevention in Belgium’s digital banking ecosystem.

For those of us with a dual lens on global finance, this development is not new. We straddle both Europe and Africa. In fact, Nigeria, often underestimated in global innovation rankings, has long operated with such safeguards. In 2014, the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) launched the Bank Verification Number (BVN) system. This framework introduced biometric identity for every bank account holder. By 2018, Nigerian banks were mandated to match the account name to the account number before finalising any deal. The framework was simple in logic. It is also revolutionary in outcome. And that outcome is to reduce fraud. To strengthen digital trust. The bottom line? Safeguard customer funds.

Belgium is a high-income, digitally mature economy. It is well-versed in research and development. Surprisingly, Belgium is only now introducing a measure Nigeria embedded in its banking DNA almost a decade ago. This is both revealing and instructive.

It speaks, primarily, to the myth of innovation exclusivity. The assumption that financial or technological innovation flows only from North to South is increasingly inaccurate. In many cases, the reverse is true. Nigeria and several other African countries have not merely adopted Western models; they have leapfrogged them.

Europe struggled with the inertia of legacy systems. Meanwhile, Nigeria seized the opportunity to build a more agile, digital-first financial ecosystem. It did so out of necessity. Yes, I know. But it was also out of vision. The introduction of BVN and real-time payment systems like NIP (NIBSS Instant Payment) changed how money moved. Transactions became secure, instant, and transparent. Even the rural areas with little banking infrastructure were not left out.

Belgium’s move now stands for more than a technical update. It is a quiet recognition that smart policy and bold digital transformation are not exclusive to so-called “developed” countries. It underscores the fact that standards of excellence in financial services can, and do, emerge from the Global South.

There is a broader lesson here for the future of digital finance: development is no longer linear. Innovation is no longer a function of GDP. It is increasingly shaped by urgency, adaptability, and the courage to try what others consider improbable.

And yet, here lies the irony. In a country with advanced digital banking innovations, name-matching and biometric IDs are routine. Real-time transfers have become standard too. Yet, Nigeria continues to struggle with the idea of electronic transmission of election results. Voters move billions of Naira across banks in seconds. Still, we are told that transmitting electoral outcomes in real time has technical glitches. We hear it has technical challenges and all of that!

It becomes even more farcical when applied to the question of Diaspora Voting. Nigerians abroad can instantly and securely send money back home. Yet, accommodating them in the electoral process is somehow too logistically challenging? With the success of Nigeria’s digital banking transformation, it is becoming increasingly difficult for the naysayers of genuine electoral reforms. They struggle to make a convincing case. It is embarrassingly so. If they are truly confused about how to make it work, then a working visit to Belgium might help. This visit is long overdue.

As a Nigerian Belgian, I take pride in this convergence. This is not as a critique of Belgium’s cautious pace. It is a celebration of Nigeria’s pioneering spirit. It is a reminder that Africa, when given the room to lead, can set global standards in unexpected fields. It is a call to action for financial institutions in Europe and Africa alike. Political institutions should also look beyond borders for best practices. Sometimes the future is not found in Silicon Valley or Brussels. It is already at work in Lagos.

The Author Collins Nweke is a Senior Consultant on International Trade and Economic Diplomacy. He is based in Belgium. He has done extensive work across Africa and Europe. His focus includes matters of governance, diaspora, and financial innovation.