A Nostalgic Tribute to Muhammadu Buhari

 July 15, 2025

 

By: Amir Abdulazeez

During the early and mid-months of 2002, I usually visit an uncle (now late) who generously provided me with newspapers often before he even read them himself. On one such visit, I picked up a copy of the Daily Trust, a relatively new publication at the time, and while flipping through its pages, I read the delightful news that not only made me happy but also propelled me into a brief career in partisan politics. Retired General Muhammadu Buhari had decided to join democratic politics and announced his entry into the All Nigerian Peoples Party (ANPP).

At the time, the Obasanjo-led administration was widely perceived to be underperforming, failing to sincerely address Nigeria’s mounting challenges. The PDP had morphed into a formidable political giant, while the ANPP was weakening steadily; other newly registered parties existed only in the briefcases of their founders.  Buhari's decision to join politics at that time represented the single most decisive decision that changed the Nigerian democratic landscape in the last 25 years. Youths, pensioners, activists, comrades, veterans and even fence-sitters found a new rallying point and almost everyone else joined the new messiah.

Although many harbored reservations about Buhari; especially those whose interests had been hurt during his military regime or the post-1999 established elite who saw him as a threat, I was among the countless young Nigerians who adored Buhari to a fault. My admiration for him was so intense that another uncle once felt compelled to caution me. It was just before the 2003 presidential election when he walked into my room, saw a large framed portrait of Buhari on my wall, smiled, and advised me to moderate my obsession.

My love for Buhari began about 30 years ago. The establishment of the Petroleum Trust Fund (PTF) by General Sani Abacha's administration in 1994 coincided with our early years in secondary school. By the time the Fund was a year old in 1995, the name of Muhammadu Buhari was on the lips of virtually all Nigerians. In my estimation then, he was the only tangible good thing about the Abacha government. In fact, he appeared to be more popular than Abacha himself; a hypothesis that reportedly inspired Obasanjo to scrap the Fund in 1999 to avoid ‘running a government inside a government’.

I vividly recall a day in 1995 or 1996 when I accompanied my father to a bookshop. The PTF low-price edition of every book we went to buy was available at a 50% or so discount without any compromise in quality. While paying the money, I could see the smile on my father's face reflecting deep satisfaction and appreciation for the work of the PTF. That was the first time in my life I truly felt and understood the direct impact of government on the people. In pharmacies, PTF drugs were sold at subsidized rates. There was no propaganda, rhetoric, cosmetics, or media packaging; the work of Buhari's PTF was there for everyone to see and touch. I was lucky as a young lad to join elders in travels across the country from 1995-1997. I got tired of seeing the PTF road projects that I once asked: "Why won't this Buhari return as president to fix Nigeria?"

Muhammadu Buhari, a constant figure in Nigerian political discourse since 1983, is now gone. Few anticipated his death, as the brief illness he suffered in London seemed either a rumor or a routine medical trip. Ironically, many of his detractors had "killed" him multiple times in the past; some of them dying before he did. In 2014, former Ekiti State governor Ayo Fayose ran a notorious advert predicting Buhari wouldn’t last months in office if elected. Yet he won, served for eight years, and died just months short of turning 83.

Buhari lived a long, dedicated, and enduring life of service and commitment to Nigeria, spanning about six decades in both military and civilian capacities. Save perhaps for Obasanjo, there’s no Nigerian, dead or alive, matches his array of public portfolios. His personal reputation for discipline, honesty, integrity, and austerity endured throughout his public life. He stood as a symbol of principled and stoic leadership and left behind a legacy that will continue to resonate for generations.

Just before his death, the debate of who made him president in 2015 resurfaced with an exchange of tantrums between some pro-Tinubu and pro-Buhari gladiators. While I found the debate outdated, my position remains that Buhari ought to have become president 12 years earlier. For the avoidance of doubt, Muhammadu Buhari did not lose the 2003 presidential elections, it was brutally rigged to return Obasanjo for a second term. That year’s election ranks among the most fraudulent in modern global history. In 2007, the presidential election results were simply fabricated, so we can't even call that an election, not to talk of who won or lost.

Despite my immense love for Buhari, I was left with no choice but to join his critics after 2015. Less than a year in, it became clear that his government lacked the vision and effectiveness many had hoped for. In 2015, I queued until about 10:00 p.m. to vote for him, believing he was Nigeria’s last chance. By 2018, disappointed, I called for him to serve just one term. I argued then that if he couldn’t lead like Nelson Mandela, he could at least exit like Mandela. By 2021, while in his second term, I was so disillusioned that I openly advocated for his impeachment.

It still remains a mystery how our much beloved, tested and trusted (his campaign slogan in 2003) Buhari failed fell so short of expectations. Some blamed his arrogant and underperforming appointees; others cited a fractured and directionless party. But ultimately, he bore the responsibility. His inability or unwillingness to discipline ineffective ministers eroded his credibility. In 2022, during the eight-month strike by university lecturers, I contacted one of his aides (a relative), who confirmed that it was Buhari’s ministers not Buhari himself who opposed paying the lecturers. Another indicator that he wasn’t really in charge.

In the midst of the storm, Buhari's administration managed to attain some landmark achievements and notable milestones in infrastructure, social welfare, and the fight against terrorism. He delivered the elusive Second Niger Bridge, the Lagos-Ibadan and Abuja-Kaduna railways and upgraded numerous critical road networks. His government implemented the Treasury Single Account (TSA), which significantly improved public financial transparency and curbed leakages. Buhari's war against Boko Haram yielded mixed results but succeeded in reclaiming substantial territory from insurgents. He introduced arguably the largest Social Investment Program in the history of Africa, targeting millions of beneficiaries through initiatives like N-Power, Trader Moni, Survival Fund, Anchor Borrowers Scheme, and conditional cash transfers.

Nigerians are free to hold divergent views on Buhari. But there should be decency in how we express those views. No one is without flaws; we all have our good and bad sides. One day, we too shall pass, and others will speak of us. Buhari had both triumphs and failings; some reaped benefits, others suffered losses. If you can pray for him, please do. If not, be measured in your words.

The past few days have witnessed a flurry of deaths, a sobering reminder that life is fleeting and death inevitable. Today’s giants will one day lie lifeless. When Garba Shehu broke the news of Buhari's death, I immediately made up my mind to put up a tribute. A few minutes after the announcement, I went to his Wikipedia page to corroborate some information about the general. To my surprise, the information about his death had already been updated: "Muhammadu Buhari (1942-2025)"—so swiftly? I said to myself. Baba is gone. May Allah forgive and grant him Jannatul-Firdaus.

Twitter: @AmirAbdulazeez

 

The Proliferation of National ‘Honours’

15^th June, 2025

By: Amir Abdulazeez

If we can recall, on 7^th October, 2015 a 19-year-old student, Hassan Mohammed Damagum sacrificed himself to save others from a suicide bomber who attempted to attack a mosque during the Subh (Dawn) prayer at Buhari Housing Estate in Yobe State. Hassan had sensed that the individual standing next to him was a suicide bomber trying to kill people. The boy was said to have confronted the bomber which blew both of them off. Again, on 25^th January 2017, Yakubu Fannami, another student from Borno State who was just in SS1 died a hero while preventing a suicide bomber from entering at the Darrusalam Science and Islamic Academy in Maiduguri. Fannami tackled the female suicide bomber, preventing her from reaching the mosque and detonating her explosives, thus saving the lives of many worshippers.

To the best of my research which may be inadequate, none of the two boys were publicly given a significant national recognition. The story of Nigeria is replete with the neglect of brave and heroic citizens who had sacrificed a lot and even laid down their lives to save others. Since 1999, Nigeria has always chosen to reward and honour many lazy elites who had contributed virtually nothing, but rather became huge beneficiaries of government patronage and corruption. Every President has made it a duty to dash out national honours to his choice elites in a manner one would do with his personal property.

In line with the routine tradition of his predecessors, President Bola Tinubu used the June 12, 2025 Democracy Day to confer over 100 national honours—some of them posthumously. As expected, many awardees are members of his administration and personalities very close to him. A section of the awardees list portrays a belated compensation package to a gang of Abacha victims, who actually need justice more than honour. While people like Prof. Humphrey Nwosu (CON), Prof. Wole Soyinka (GCON), Alhaji Balarabe Musa (CFR), Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah (CON) and Femi Falana, SAN (CON) truly deserve their awards, it would have been wiser and more balanced to include people like Late Bashir Tofa (Abiola’s NRC opponent), Late Abubakar Rimi and Magaji Abdullahi (two important SDP figures who miraculously delivered Kano, Tofa’s State to Abiola) and of course M.D. Yusufu, the presidential candidate of MDJ who was Abacha’s sole challenger in his bid to undemocratically transform to a civilian president, among others. Perhaps, they would be remembered by this or another President in the next set of awards, for at this rate, every political household name, dead or alive, may soon have a national honour in Nigeria by 2030.

What exactly is this national honour and who are those who deserve it? The honouring system was originally envisioned as a prestigious recognition of exceptional service to the nation and was formally established by the National Honours Act No. 5 of 1964 to inspire patriotism, reward merit and foster national unity. The structure of national honours, divided into two orders (Order of the Federal Republic and Order of the Niger) and eight ranks (GCFR, GCON, CFR, CON, OFR, OON, MFR, MON), was designed to reflect degrees of national impact. However, the system’s proliferation and indiscriminate distribution have undermined these distinctions, often placing true heroes, statesmen and national icons equal or below some presidential sycophants, political loyalists and officeholders, regardless of their performance or public standing.

The early years of Nigeria's national honours system reflected its original purpose. Recipients such as Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, Sir Ahmadu Bello, Chief Obafemi Awolowo and Mrs. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti were honoured for verifiable and transformative contributions. However, over time, the politicization and personalization of the awards diminished its integrity, giving way to an annual ritual often characterised by hundreds of questionable awardees whose contributions to the nation are neither tangible nor verifiable. In the past 15 years, things have gotten worse as the selection system itself have been incompetently reduced to a mechanism marred by political patronage, duplication and credibility crises.

Today, the integrity of this noble initiative is in serious jeopardy, with widespread skepticism about its selection process and relevance. Ideally, recipients should be individuals whose lives exemplify ethical integrity, measurable public impact and selfless service. However, the current trend favours tenure over achievement and proximity to power over merit. Politicians under corruption investigation, individuals with no tangible contributions and business moguls with opaque wealth have all made their way into the honours roll. Prominent Nigerians have rejected national honours in protest. Chinua Achebe, Gani Fawehinmi and Wole Soyinka famously turned down honours in the past, citing corruption, misgovernance and the lack of transparency in the process. Their principled refusals sent powerful messages about the need to restore the credibility of the system. As Achebe aptly put it, ‘a government that fails its people cannot in good conscience bestow honours’.

Numerous scandals have exposed the flaws of the system. In 2022, the conferment of awards to serving ministers during a prolonged ASUU strike and the inclusion of people accused of corruption represented a new low. Even more embarrassing were administrative blunders such as conferring posthumous awards to please certain intersts and duplication of awards to the same person under different titles. Meanwhile, countless unsung heroes remain ignored. Rural teachers shaping future generations, healthcare workers battling epidemics without protection and community leaders mediating conflicts receive no recognition.

Some few non-elitist Nigerians have been reluctantly recognized by the establishment in the past. The belated honour to Dr. Ameyo Stella Adadevoh (posthumous OON, 2022), whose sacrifice averted an Ebola catastrophe in August, 2014, only came after sustained public pressure for about eight years. In August, 2018, then President Muhammadu Buhari and the United States Embassy honoured the Bauchi State-born 83-year old Malam Abubakar Abdullahi, a Muslim Imam in a village in Plateau State. He sheltered and fed 300 Christians for five days to prevent them from being killed in an uprising. The old man ran from one corner to the other stopping youths who wanted to break into the mosque to get hold of his guests. Eventually, they gave up after realizing that the only way to execute their evil plan was to kill the old man. That was how he saved their lives. I am not sure whether the man was given any national honour beyond that presidential acknowledgement.

If we are to continue like this, I will suggest the renaming of the awards to “Special Presidential Honours”.  The National Honours Act, last revised in 2004, offers the President near-total discretion, with little room for public input or institutional checks. With time, it has been turned to a presidential farewell affair as outgoing Presidents routinely populate honours lists upon leaving office to payback loyalists. Recent attempts at reform, such as the proposed National Honours and Merit Award Commission, represent a step forward but are insufficient on their own. Far-reaching legislative and administrative reforms are needed to restore the honours’ integrity. This includes public nominations, independent vetting panels, open selection criteria and mandatory justification of award decisions.

A critical reform must also introduce public objections and transparency mechanisms, such as publishing nominee shortlists and designing revocation protocols. Honours should be rescinded from individuals found guilty of crimes or misconduct post-conferment. The system should no longer shield disgraced figures or treat national honours as irrevocable symbols of status regardless of later behaviour. Furthermore, awards should be capped annually to preserve their exclusivity. Honouring fewer, more deserving Nigerians will increase the prestige of the titles and prevent undeserving awards Most importantly, the honours system must reconnect with the grassroots. By recognising farmers, nurses, teachers, inventors and humanitarian workers, Nigeria can turn the system into a true tool of national inspiration.

All these are by the way as ordinary Nigerians no longer care about leaders honouring themselves and their cronies. No impoverished Nigerian has the luxury of waiting to be honoured by someone whose honour is questionable himself. All Nigerians are asking for is guaranteed security to farm, stable power supply to produce, quality and affordable education to learn, reliable healthcare to survive and stable economy to thrive. When they can provide this, they can go on naming and renaming national monuments after their wives and continue with the vicious cycle of self-glorification in the name of national honours.

 

Twitter: @AmirAbdulazeez

The Politics of Autobiographies

 20^th February, 2025

 By: Amir Abdulazeez

In ancient times and through the Middle ages, people used autobiographies to share hidden truths, make confessions and communicate genuine experiences. Nowadays, they are used by politicians and world leaders for self-justification and self-glorification. Whether in the West, across Africa, or within Nigeria, the pattern remains the same—political figures use autobiographies to rewrite history in their favour, often ignoring their failures or controversies.

Between 1948 to 1954, former British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, published multiple volumes of memoirs that portrayed him as the hero of World War II. While Churchill was undeniably a key figure in the war, his narratives downplayed criticisms of his leadership, including his alleged role in the Bengal Famine of 1943, which resulted in the deaths of millions. His autobiographical works cemented his legacy as a wartime leader while sidestepping his more controversial decisions.

Modern political memoirs have increasingly become exercises in selective storytelling, where leaders carefully articulate their narratives to present themselves in the most favourable light possible. Former United States President, Richard Nixon used his autobiography, ‘The Memoirs of Richard Nixon’, to repair his image after the Watergate scandal. After lying about the possession of weapons of mass destruction as a justification to invade, Tony Blair's ‘A Journey’ and George W. Bush's ‘Decision Points’, cruelly and shamelessly attempted to justify their baseless war in Iraq in 2003.

Across Africa, many leaders have also engaged in this practice of using autobiographies to deny or justify their shortcomings. As good as they were, even the likes of Ghana’s Kwame Nkrumah, Zambia’s Kenneth Kaunda, Tanzania’s Julius Nyerere and Kenya’s Jomo Kenyatta have all been accused of using autobiographies to exaggerate their legacies, downplay their shortcomings and ignore controversies around their stewardships.

In Nigeria, Olusegun Obasanjo’s ‘My Watch’, published in 2014 have been widely criticized for being self-serving. While Obasanjo paints himself as a patriot and a visionary leader, he conveniently overlooked the authoritarian tendencies and allegations of corruption and electoral frauds during his tenure.  Despite all the glaring circumstances that led to the decisive defeat of Dr. Goodluck Jonathan in the 2015 Presidential elections, in his 2018 book ‘My Transition Hours’, he tried so hard to justify and downplay the very actions that led to his downfall while also constructing different conspiracy theories that gave the impression he didn’t lose the elections freely and fairly.

Just, when we thought we have had enough of all these politicized autobiographies, former Military President General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida has released his own memoirs. While being often and correctly presented as one of Nigeria’s finest soldiers, strongest leaders and elder statesmen, we can by no means expect his memoirs to be significantly different from that of other Nigerian, African and world leaders. IBB is unlucky to be one of the most studied and documented Nigerian leaders and there are so many controversies, inconsistencies and tactical deceptions associated to his tenure which no autobiography can reconcile.

One major criticism of IBB’s memoir is its timing. The delayed release suggests a strategic waiting period for public emotions to cool and memories to fade. Apart from the main actors, many other people in the position to validate or refute whatever he might say in his book are dead. In fact, majority of the current generation of Nigerians were not even born when he left power in 1993. In a nutshell, while Babangida’s autobiography may attempt to rationalize many of his decisions, the scars left by the events he presided like the Structural Adjustment programme, state executions, public corruption, endless and wasteful transition programme will remain fresh in the country’s memory.

In Nigeria, what have these autobiographies taught us? Many leaders and political actors have left terrible legacies which they cannot risk leaving in the hands of neutral story tellers. While they should spend the rest of their lives in regret and retrospection, they will rather add salt to injury by releasing half-truths and falsehoods as autobiographies. When they do so, they always have other elitist co-conspirators that benefited from their actions and inactions in power that will gather and celebrate them like heroes.

As a former Nigerian leader, once you are alive and influential, you can always find a way of redeeming your image inspite of your atrocities. I always ask people to imagine if General Sani Abacha was still alive, who will dare recover any foreign loot associated to him? Who doesn’t have skeletons in their cupboards? Unfortunately for Abacha, apart from been dead, he had also stepped on most, if not all of the toes that would’ve protected him and again, one of the most affected became President just 11 months after his death.

Not all are the same. There are patriotic Nigerian leaders, statesmen and freedom fighters who deserve to write autobiographies. Unfortunately, when they do, theirs get drowned in the ocean of the negative ones who are richer and more popular. By tradition, you know Nigerians will always promote and accept something that is popular and elegant instead of one that is truthful and honest. This is why you don’t hear trending biographies about Gani Fawehinmi, Abdulkadir Balarabe Musa, etc.

All in all, everyone has a right to his own opinion and narrative of events the way he wants people to view them. While autobiographies provide valuable insights into the minds of world leaders, they must be read with a critical eye. Readers must recognize that these books are not always honest reflections of history but are, more often than not, carefully crafted narratives designed to preserve a leader’s legacy. Memoirs of political leaders often serve more as instruments of image control than as genuine historical accounts. The ultimate judgment of political leaders should rest not in the pages of their autobiographies but rather in the lived experiences of their citizens and the tangible impacts of their policies.

I read three autobiographies recently and I found them to be outstanding and honest; Sir Ahmadu Bello’s ‘My Life’, Nelson Mandela’s ‘Long Walk to Freedom’ and Mahatma Gandhi’s ‘The Stories of My Experiments with Truth’. Sardauna’s was simple, least self-glorifying and occasionally self-critical. Mandela’s was strictly a chronicle of collective struggles, only mentioning but leaving out details about subjective issues and cleverly terminating his story to the point he was inaugurated as President. He left the story of his presidency to be told by others. Gandhi’s was the best; when he was literally forced to write his memoirs in 1925, he rather named it ‘my experiments’, it was the translators that added the word ‘autobiography’. He never wanted to write because he believes if your actions are right, there is nothing to boast about it, for the wrong ones, there will always be many people to help you write them.

 

Twitter: @AmirAbdulazeez