Two Sets of Nigerians Who Know Everything

By comrade Bamidele Atoyebi

There’s a unique breed of Nigerians who hold the golden answers to all the nation’s problems. You’ll find them on Twitter (X), Instagram comment sections, and WhatsApp broadcast lists. They come in two distinct categories:

A. Those who have never held power.
B. Those who once held power, got kicked out, and suddenly became prophets of reform.

Let’s start with category A: the keypad warriors. These ones have never smelt governance. They’ve never had access to a budget, never signed a policy document, and certainly never entered a council chamber. But they know exactly how to fix electricity in two weeks, end insecurity with a tweet thread, and turn the naira into gold just by deleting subsidies. They’re usually found under posts by Instablog9ja, Mazitundeednut, Kalu Aja or replying to CNN Africa with 9-slide proposals. They have no proxy in government, no pilot experience, but they’re ready to fly Nigeria.

Now, to the second group – the fallen angels of power. Once upon a time, they ruled, they governed, they issued memos and signed MOUs. But now that they’re out of the loop, they’ve become governance gurus. People like Peter Obi, El-Rufai, Rotimi Amaechi, and Atiku Abubakar – men who had their chance but now speak as though they were innocent bystanders in Nigeria’s mess. Suddenly, they know how to fix everything they once left broken. One wonders where all this wisdom was hiding when they held the reins.

Take El-Rufai, for instance. He was known to be an ethnic and religious jingoist – a bigot who neglected the entire Southern Kaduna commune and fueled the worst inter-communal crisis that ever befell the region. He strengthened oppressive state structures, threw political opponents into prison, and silenced every vocal critic. For over seven and a half years as governor, he refused to conduct local government elections effectively cutting off grassroots governance.

Peter Obi, too, had his share of challenges when he was governor for eight years. Under his watch, health workers went on prolonged strikes, crippling healthcare services. Despite being a vocal advocate for good governance today, during his tenure, no local government elections were conducted, effectively cutting off grassroots participation the very connection that keeps a democracy vibrant.

Kidnappings were also rampant in Anambra State during his time, creating a climate of fear. One such incident involved a person being abducted in broad daylight in an Acura car in Agulu, his hometown, leaving some residents and visitors too terrified to move freely. For many, this period marked a low point in regional security, casting a shadow over his current reformist image.

Then there’s Atiku – the grand master of privatization. He’s campaigned more times than we can count, always with the promise that if elected, he’d sell Nigeria’s assets to his friends. When asked who’d buy them, he shamelessly admitted: his political allies. As Vice President, he and his boss ushered in a wave of corruption so legendary that even Obasanjo, in his memoir, accused Atiku of stealing enough money to feed Nigerians for over 100 years. And what do they have to show for their eight years in power? Let them name five major roads they started and completed. Just five.

It’s an endless cycle. Today’s critic is tomorrow’s culprit. And tomorrow’s culprit will one day become the new-age Twitter consultant with hot takes on why “the system failed.”

The irony? Nigeria remains the same. Because fixing a nation isn’t about knowing what’s wrong – it’s about doing the hard, often thankless work of leadership. And unfortunately, our best thinkers seem to only appear when the stakes are low and their seats are cold.

Until then, let the tweets roll. And if you’ve never been in power, don’t worry – you’re already halfway to becoming a national expert.