There is a question that insists on being asked, and it will not politely excuse itself from the room: What exactly is President Bola Ahmed Tinubu up to?
On August 11, the President announced a fresh wave of appointments to the Federal Character Commission - a body created to ensure fairness, balance, and national inclusion in federal opportunities. At its head, he named Ayo Hulayat Omidiran, a former House of Representatives member, as Executive Chairman, succeeding Dr. Muheeba Dankaka, whose tenure ended in controversy.
Ordinarily, such an appointment should strengthen the Commission’s mission to reflect Nigeria’s diversity in federal opportunities. Instead, it has deepened a troubling perception: that in institution after institution, the President’s instinct is to install another head from his own ethnic group. From the apex of the Customs Service to the CBN, from the FIRS to the EFCC, from the Ministry of Finance to the FCC, the Yoruba imprint is stamped repeatedly on the very topmost positions of the federal structure.
From the Central Bank of Nigeria under Olayemi Cardoso, to the Federal Inland Revenue Service under Zacch Adedeji, from the Nigeria Customs Service led by Adewale Adeniyi, to the Ministry of Finance under Wale Edun, and now the Federal Character Commission under Ayo Omidiran - the pattern is unmistakable. The very top of some of the most powerful federal institutions increasingly wears the same ethnic face.
This is not an isolated slip of the pen, it is a deliberate handwriting on the wall. It tells a story that Nigerians across the map are beginning to read aloud: The table is set, but only for a few.
When a President governs a multi-ethnic country like Nigeria, every appointment carries two weights - its practical function and its symbolic message. In a country wounded by decades of suspicion and marginalization, symbolism is not optional. It is oxygen. Yet, time after time, the pattern under this administration leans heavily in one direction, sending a message that echoes far beyond Aso Rock.
How does a President who still needs the goodwill of the entire country to secure re-election choose to govern in such a way? Unless, of course, he has quietly written off the notion of broad national support for a second term, preferring instead to consolidate power and reward loyalty while the clock still runs. Because if this is the menu while the chef still seeks our appetite, what will be served when he no longer needs our plates at all?
The constitution’s federal character principle was not designed to dilute merit, it was designed to guarantee that every corner of the federation feels like a shareholder, not a tenant. But when the list of national gatekeepers begins to look like a regional reunion, it gives the impression that merit is defined only by proximity to the President’s ethnic and political fold.
Some may argue that the President is simply choosing those he trusts. But trust in governance is not a private commodity to be hoarded; it must be cultivated across the federation. To lead Nigeria is to trust beyond one’s political kitchen cabinet. It is to break bread with those who did not vote for you, to shake hands with those who doubted you, and to serve alongside those whose only qualification is their capacity to serve the nation - not merely their closeness to the ruling circle or their fluency in the leader’s mother tongue.
History is filled with leaders who misunderstood this delicate truth. They mistook victory for ownership, forgetting that political power is always on loan from the people. And when that loan comes due, the repayment is not in rhetoric, it is in the lived reality of fairness, inclusion, and justice.
If this is the tone of the first term, what awaits in a second term, when political survival no longer depends on broad approval? This is the unspoken fear of many Nigerians who see today’s FCC appointment not as a coincidence, but as another tile in a carefully arranged mosaic of ethnic concentration. A President who narrows the table in his season of need is unlikely to widen it in his season of security.
The Presidency may dismiss this as mere politics, but politics is built on perception, and perception is built on action. And action - especially repeated action - forms a record that no press release can erase. Leaders are remembered less for their speeches than for the patterns of their decisions. Those patterns, in turn, write the verdict of history.
Mr. President, the office you hold is not a family estate; it is a national trust. You were not elected to be the custodian of one region’s fortunes but the guardian of a nation’s destiny. In the arithmetic of national leadership, favouritism is subtraction, not addition. It subtracts trust, it subtracts legitimacy, and it subtracts the invisible glue that holds a fragile federation together.
We have been here before. Nigeria’s story is littered with the remains of leaders who saw the national table as a family dinner. And every time, the result was the same: a nation further fractured, its citizens retreating into ethnic enclaves, its promise dimmed by the shadows of mistrust.
There is still time to change the script. Inclusion is not weakness - it is strategic wisdom. It tells every Nigerian, from Sokoto to Calabar, from Maiduguri to Lagos, that this government is theirs, too. It invites unity where division once festered. And it builds the kind of political capital that no amount of campaign spending can buy.
History will not ask how many of your appointees spoke your language or shared your political past. It will ask how many Nigerians felt seen, heard, and included under your watch. It will measure your presidency not by the fullness of the plates at your own table, but by whether the entire nation was invited to eat.
_Bello Abdullahi is a public affairs commentator, social critic, and advocate for moral leadership. He writes under the #GaskiyaAlliance platform to promote truth, accountability, and civic courage in Nigerian politics._
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