Afenifere vs Tinubu
As President Bola Ahmed Tinubu crosses the midpoint of his constitutionally allotted four-year term, a sharp and public rebuke has come from an unexpected quarter.
By Amarike Akpoke
As President Bola Ahmed Tinubu crosses the midpoint of his constitutionally allotted four-year term, a sharp and public rebuke has come from an unexpected quarter. Afenifere, the pan-Yoruba socio-cultural group has accused the Tinubu administration of failing Nigerians “woefully” and doubling down on “massive propaganda” to cover its tracks. For a president whose political roots run deep in the Southwest, this amounts to something between a no-confidence vote and a symbolic divorce.
But as the political dust rises, so too must the need for critical clarity. What exactly is the basis of Afenifere’s sweeping condemnation? Does it hold water, or is it a politically-motivated reaction to an administration struggling through inherited and self-inflicted crises?
Let us interrogate examine the facts dispassionately.
Afenifere’s principal charge lies in the suffering of ordinary Nigerians, especially following Tinubu’s economic policies, most notably, the sudden removal of fuel subsidies and the unification of the exchange rate. These moves triggered massive inflation, with the naira collapsing to historic lows, fuel prices tripling, and food costs spiraling out of reach for many. The impact has been both severe and visible.
Nonetheless, to reduce this economic storm solely to presidential misjudgment is to ignore both context and causality. These policies, while harsh, were widely considered inevitable by economic observers. The fuel subsidy regime, long described as a fiscal sinkhole and a magnet for corruption, had become unsustainable. Similarly, the parallel exchange rate system was a distortion that enriched a few while starving the economy of transparency and investment.
What Tinubu failed to do, however, was manage the transition. The reforms came with minimal social cushioning, no robust communication strategy, and a woefully delayed palliative programme. Nigerians were told to endure pain, but were not given the tools to survive it. This is where Afenifere’s criticism finds some footing. The hardship is real, and the government’s underestimation of its impact has eroded early goodwill. Moreover, the controversy surrounding the utilization of the subsidy removal windfall running into trillions of naira remains a sour taste in the mouth of economic watchers.
Yet, it remains to be seen whether these economic reforms will yield longer-term stabilization. For now, the jury is still out. Afenifere’s verdict, though emotionally resonant, risks being historically hasty.
On security, Afenifere accuses Tinubu of doing little to stem the tide of violence that continues to plague many parts of the country. From insurgency in the Northeast, to banditry in the Northwest, to farmer-herder imbroglio in the Middle Belt, and sporadic unrest in the South, Nigerians continue to live under the spectre of fear.
However, this is neither news nor is it new. President Tinubu inherited a country teetering on the brink of state failure in many areas. Under the Buhari administration, security institutions became fatigued, under-resourced, and often complicit. What Tinubu can be faulted for is not necessarily the persistence of insecurity, but the absence of any bold, visible shift in strategy. The security architecture has largely remained unchanged. Promises of state policing and community-based security remain just that - promises.
In this sense, Afenifere’s critique speaks to a wider national frustration, that is, the failure of successive administrations to think outside the centralist box. Tinubu had the political capital to propose a new deal on security. Halfway in, he is yet to cash it in.
Perhaps Afenifere’s sharpest claim is that Tinubu’s government has replaced policy with propaganda, an accusation that sticks uncomfortably well.
From coordinated social media campaigns to triumphalist press statements, the administration has often appeared more concerned with managing perception than performance. Its media handlers speak of growth projections, foreign investment pledges, and reform resilience while Nigerians pay through their nose at fuel stations to power their vehicles and cough out more for garri than they ever did for rice.
Of course, all governments spin their stories. The issue here is balance. In the face of widespread hardship, image management without substantive relief becomes an insult to injury. The administration’s messaging has frequently failed the empathy test, casting national suffering as a temporary nuisance rather than a lived crisis.
In that light, Afenifere’s critique of "massive propaganda" feels less like hyperbole and more like a reflection of how disconnected government communication has become from the citizen’s daily reality.
Still, we must consider the messenger. Afenifere is not ideologically monolithic, and its internal divisions have often spilled into public view. Some factions have supported Tinubu; others have accused him of abandoning the Southwest’s federalist cause. This recent condemnation appears to come from the latter camp.
Indeed, part of the group’s grievance may stem from a broader sense of political and cultural betrayal. Tinubu, the long-time federalist and NADECO veteran, has been remarkably silent on restructuring, a cause Afenifere holds dear. His centralist tendencies in office, along with his closeness to power blocs they view with suspicion, have likely deepened the rift.
The group’s frustration may also be rooted in exclusion, whether perceived or real from the patronage and policymaking circles now revolving around the presidency. Thus, while the suffering they highlight is valid, it is difficult to ignore the undercurrent of estrangement that shapes their tone.
Then, one wonders if Tinubu’s presidency is truly a failed one as claimed by Afenifere. Perhaps, not totally yet. But it is undoubtedly floundering under the weight of its own ambition and missteps. The economic shock therapy, while not wholly misguided, has been poorly managed. The fight against insecurity feels eerily like more of the same. And the administration’s obsession with optics risks creating a hall of mirrors where governance is confused for storytelling.
Afenifere’s judgment is therefore not without basis; but it is also not beyond scrutiny. The group paints in stark black-and-white strokes what remains, at best, a complex shade of grey. Governance, especially in a broken system, is not a binary of failure or success. It is a contested space of trial, error, learning, and adaptation.
President Tinubu still has time and constitutional power to course-correct. He can rein in the propagandists and pull the leash on their overreaching spins; decentralize the security conversation, and embrace an economic recovery plan that includes—not ignores—the poor. But he must first accept the truth Afenifere has harshly spoken. Nigerians are hurting, and symbolism cannot mask suffering.
If Mr. President fails to listen beyond his own heartbeat and his spin doctors' echo chamber, then Afenifere's early verdict of failure may prove not just less premature but prophetic.
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