By Lemmy Ughegbe, PhD
Few leaders in Nigeria’s modern history have inspired as much hope or provoked as much disappointment as General Muhammadu Buhari.
His political career reads like a lesson in contradictions: the ascetic soldier who promised discipline but presided over deepening chaos; the anti-corruption crusader whose tenure was marred by scandal; the critic of medical tourism who became an unapologetic practitioner of it; the unifier who left a nation more broken than he found it.
Writing about any deceased African leader often feels like walking through the minefield of what some have termed the “tyranny of the African myth or prejudice” (never speak ill of the dead). Instead, there is an expectation to either deify or canonise that late leader.
Yet, the truth is rarely so simple. This makes any honest assessment not only challenging but necessary. Despite the risk of being misunderstood or accused of speaking ill of the dead, the task remains to critique their life and times: to learn, to tell the truth, and to conscientise, especially our leaders, for God and the greater good of the country.
Buhari’s legacy demands such nuance. When first elected in 2015, he arrived with the myth of incorruptibility. Many saw in him the stern general who would clean up the rot of the Jonathan years, epitomised by fuel subsidy scams, missing oil billions, and a festering insurgency.
His election marked the first time in Nigeria’s history that an incumbent president conceded defeat, cementing democratic norms and earning international acclaim. Even critics applauded the symbolism of a former military ruler returning to power through the ballot box.
Yet, the promise frayed quickly. His cabinet appointments took months, raising questions about his decisiveness. His economic team struggled with the oil-price crash and recession. Nigeria fell into two full recessions under his watch, with inflation and unemployment reaching record highs.
Even Buhari’s supporters, such as former Minister Audu Ogbeh, acknowledged that the government struggled to implement its agricultural policy with consistency. By 2021, Shehu Sani, a former ally, acidly observed that “the anti-corruption rhetoric had become more sophisticated corruption in practice.”
Still, it would be unfair to ignore genuine achievements. Buhari’s administration oversaw an unprecedented infrastructure drive, including the completion of the Lagos–Ibadan railway, the long-promised Second Niger Bridge, extensive highway upgrades, and major power projects.
The Petroleum Industry Act finally became law after decades of inertia, a feat his predecessors failed to achieve. Social Investment Programmes brought some relief to millions of the country’s poor. The National Disability Act promoted the inclusion of People Living with Disabilities (PLWD) and made it mandatory for organisations to have a certain quota of that demographic in their employment.
Yet, even these successes were shot through with contradictions. Debt levels surged to finance infrastructure, sparking concerns about sustainability. Programmes like TraderMoni, praised for promoting financial inclusion, were dogged by accusations of vote-buying.
Critics noted that the Petroleum Industry Act arrived too late, with oil’s future increasingly uncertain amid global decarbonisation. Communities in the Niger Delta argued that their 3% allocation for host communities was woefully inadequate.
On security, Buhari promised to defeat Boko Haram within six months of taking office. While he did not quite achieve that within the time frame he set for himself, the group lost considerable territory in his early years.
However, new fronts of violence opened: ISWAP in the Northeast, banditry in the Northwest, farmer-herder conflicts in the Middle Belt, and secessionist agitation in the Southeast. By 2023, Nigeria had over 3 million internally displaced people, and the security apparatus was overstretched and demoralised.
As Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah memorably charged in his 2022 Easter message: “You have destroyed our country, divided our people, and enthroned the worship of lies, betrayal, and corruption.”
Perhaps the gravest charge was the perception of ethnocentric governance. Buhari’s appointments overwhelmingly favoured the North, fuelling accusations of sectionalism and undermining federal character, which remains a constitutional principle.
His notorious “97% vs. 5%” remark after the 2015 election haunts his legacy, seen as a window into his administration’s mindset. Prof. Chidi Odinkalu, a prominent human rights advocate, argued that “The Buhari administration squandered a historic opportunity for institutional renewal. It centralised power without responsibility and failed to invest in civic trust.”
This perception wasn’t confined to southern elites alone. Shehu Sani lamented that Buhari’s inner circle made governance “parochial,” even for many northern minorities. Meanwhile, Katch Ononuju bluntly declared on national television that Buhari’s appointments “confirmed the fears of regional dominance and political exclusion.”
Buhari’s defenders, however, offered their justifications. They argued that trust was essential in appointments, especially in a country plagued by insurgency and sabotage. Some, like Garba Shehu, the presidential spokesman, joined Buhari in claiming he was “for everybody and for nobody,” arguing that accusations of bias overlooked the realities of security and competence. Others said his personal frugality and austere lifestyle set a moral tone, even if his lieutenants fell short of his standards.
Yet, this defence did little to quell growing dissatisfaction. Under Buhari, civic space shrank. Protesters at Lekki Toll Gate were met with gunfire. Journalists faced harassment. Critics were branded enemies of the state. Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka, who once cautiously endorsed Buhari’s candidacy, declared in frustration that he would not endorse “failure” or “incompetence,” distancing himself from an administration he felt had betrayed the promise of change.
Even the vaunted anti-corruption war came to be seen as selective. While some high-profile convictions occurred, many politically connected allies faced no scrutiny at all. Femi Falana (SAN) warned that “a government that fears criticism fears accountability, and that is not democratic.”
Despite these failures, it would be simplistic to attribute Nigeria’s myriad crises entirely to Buhari’s actions. He inherited a system marked by elite capture, fragile institutions, and deep inequality.
Corruption did not begin with him, nor did insecurity. His tragedy was his inability or unwillingness to change the trajectory despite immense public goodwill. As Prof. Pat Utomi noted, the Petroleum Industry Act was a “historic structural reform,” but one that came too late in a global energy transition and demanded better implementation than Nigeria’s governance culture typically delivered.
Ultimately, Buhari seemed to embody the limits of the “strongman” myth in Nigerian politics. Discipline alone was not enough. Personal integrity did not automatically translate into institutional reform. Stubbornness became policy paralysis. Aloofness alienated even erstwhile supporters.
As the country grapples with the reality of Buhari’s passage and reflects on his presidency, it is clear that Nigeria cannot afford to conflate moral rectitude with competent governance. A nation of over 200 million cannot be saved by one man’s virtues alone. It needs strong, inclusive institutions, equitable governance, and leadership that listens to its diverse people.
Buhari’s era is over, but its lessons are urgent. Nigeria must learn that true reform lies not in elevating a single figure, but in building a system that outlasts any personality. The country’s future depends on rejecting the tyranny of uncritical loyalty and embracing the more complex work of institutional renewal.
That is the challenge before Nigeria now: to turn critique into conscience, dissent into design, and failure into the seedbed of genuine transformation. For the greater good of our country and God, this is a lesson we cannot afford to ignore.
Lemmy Ughegbe, ANIPR, writes from Abuja
Email: lemmyughegbeofficial@gmail.com
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