TINUBU: THE QUIET REVOLUTIONARY (PART II)
Power, Pain, and the Burden of Doing What Others Refused to Do
Leadership is not about being loved. It is about taking responsibility when others looked away. Tinubu chose pain over pretense — and Nigeria is reacting the only way it knows how. History will decide who was right.
If leadership were judged solely by popularity, Bola Ahmed Tinubu would rank among the worst presidents Nigeria has ever produced. But history has never been kind to leaders who chose applause over action, nor has it been gentle with nations that rewarded cowardice disguised as consensus.
The tragedy of Nigeria is not that reforms are painful; it is that for decades, leaders postponed pain until it became inevitable. Tinubu inherited a country already bleeding — fiscally exhausted, morally compromised, and structurally broken. What he did differently was refuse to pretend otherwise.
For years, Nigerians were deceived with the myth of stability. Fuel subsidy was defended as “pro-poor,” even when evidence showed it enriched a cartel that drained the treasury and funded corruption. Dual exchange rates were marketed as economic management, while a privileged few converted insider access into overnight wealth. Everyone knew the truth. No one acted.
Until Tinubu.
By removing fuel subsidy on his first day in office, Tinubu shattered an unwritten rule of Nigerian politics: never touch the altar of populism until your second term. He did it without committee reports, without a transition excuse, and without apology. The backlash was immediate and ferocious. Inflation surged. Transport costs exploded. Hunger protests erupted — including in his own strongholds.
Yet here lies the uncomfortable truth many critics refuse to confront: Nigeria was already broke. The subsidy regime was being funded by debt, not revenue. The state was borrowing to pretend it was governing.
The same applies to the naira float. For years, Nigeria operated an economic apartheid: one exchange rate for the connected, another for the masses. This distortion did not protect the poor; it institutionalized rent-seeking. By collapsing the artificial divide, Tinubu dismantled a system that produced billionaires without factories, jobs, or innovation.
Was the pain avoidable? No.
Was it badly communicated? Yes.
Was it necessary? Absolutely.
Critics often ask: Why now? Why so fast?
The better question is: Why did others wait so long?
Nigeria’s economic collapse did not begin in 2023. Tinubu merely refused to continue the lie.
This is why the anger is so visceral. Tinubu did not just disrupt livelihoods; he disrupted entrenched privileges. The fury is loud because the losses are real — especially among those who benefited from chaos disguised as policy.
History teaches us something uncomfortable: revolutions are rarely loved while they are happening. They are only appreciated when the smoke clears. Whether Tinubu succeeds or fails will depend on whether his reforms translate into institutions, not just policies.
Pain alone is not transformation. Pain must produce structure.
And that is where the real test begins.
J.J. OlutiCreative Voice of Africa
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