Sarcastic Sunday: Buhari vs Tinubu — The Difference Between a Leader and a Dealer
There are moments in a country’s history when the contrast between two leaders becomes so stark that the nation begins to ask itself whether it is living through political evolution, or simply participating in a very expensive social experiment. Nigeria today stands precisely at that intersection.
This week's edition of Sarcastic Sunday with Mohammed Bello Doka begins with that lingering question:
How did Nigeria move from Buhari’s cautious conservatism to Tinubu’s high-speed political demolition derby — and why do the loudest voices praise whichever direction the wind blows?
To understand this, we return briefly to May 29, 2023. Under Muhammadu Buhari, whatever his flaws, governance was predictable. He avoided fuel subsidy removal because he feared mass suffering. He kept the borders closed to protect local industry. He refused to float the naira because he understood the country’s shock absorbers were weak. These decisions were often criticized, but they were grounded in a principle older than politics itself: you don’t set the room on fire to test whether your fire extinguisher works.
Tinubu arrived, and in a single speech detonated three economic grenades at once.
Fuel subsidy? Gone.
Naira protection? Gone.
Border restrictions? Gone.
Nigeria, a nation of more than 200 million people, was plunged into a rapid-fire economic transition with all the grace of a moving train jumping off its own tracks.
And yet, the reaction from his supporters was predictable:
“Bold! Visionary! Historic!”
The same policies that were “evil” under Buhari became “reforms” under Tinubu.
The same hardship that was “unacceptable” under Buhari became “necessary sacrifice” under Tinubu.
One wonders whether political loyalty now comes with an inbuilt amnesia switch.
THE ECONOMY: A CHRONICLE OF PAINFUL REALITIES
Facts do not need political affiliation.
After subsidy removal and naira flotation, Nigeria witnessed the kind of economic shock that economists pray only to read about in textbooks.
According to the National Bureau of Statistics, inflation surged above 31%, and food inflation crossed 37%, the highest in decades. The World Bank later estimated that 129 million Nigerians were living in multidimensional poverty — more than half the country.
Transport doubled, food tripled, and for the first time in modern memory, even garri — that loyal companion of hard times — began acting like it now belongs exclusively in middle-class kitchens.
Economists warned that floating the naira without structural support was dangerous. Businesses felt the blow instantly. Many reported losses due to currency volatility. Prices changed almost daily. The informal sector — the backbone of Nigerian survival — entered panic mode.
And yet, Tinubu’s digital warriors insisted:
“This is painful, but it is the birth of a new Nigeria.”
One must ask:
If this is birth, why does it feel like a funeral?
FOREIGN POLICY: FROM DIPLOMACY TO DISARRAY
If Buhari’s foreign policy was a quiet dinner, Tinubu’s has been more of an after-party brawl. Buhari maintained cordial relations with Niger, Mali, Burkina Faso, Cameroon, and Chad. Cooperation existed. Dialogue existed. Cross-border intelligence sharing existed.
Tinubu inherited that delicate structure and, within months, nearly marched the region into war.
The coup in Niger Republic triggered a hasty threat of military intervention. Mali and Burkina Faso reacted defensively. Tinubu publicly snubbed the Burkinabe leader in Abuja, a diplomatic misstep that analysts say contributed to the biggest geopolitical fracture in West Africa’s recent history.
Three neighboring states — Niger, Mali, and Burkina Faso — jointly exited ECOWAS.
Not quietly.
Not slowly.
But decisively — and with hostility.
This was the first time in modern African geopolitics that a regional bloc lost a trio of members in one coordinated withdrawal. Specialists at the Atlantic Council described it as “a major re-alignment of West African power.”
Nigeria — once the stabilizing anchor of the region — suddenly looked isolated, reactionary, and diplomatically reckless.
That vacuum of cooperation opened the door to insecurity.
Border intelligence weakened.
Joint patrols vanished.
Porous northern borders became corridors for insurgents, gun-runners, and traffickers.
A recent security review estimated that more than 135 northern border entry points are unprotected — the highest number in years.
And still, Tinubu’s online defenders insist:
“Enemy nations are jealous of Nigeria’s new strength.”
Strength?
If this is strength, what does weakness look like?
THE DIGITAL SUMMIT THAT FIXED NOTHING
As inflation surged and regional alliances fractured, the Nigerian government prioritized…
a digital media summit.
A two-day, high-budget influencer convention in Abuja designed to centralize messaging around the “Renewed Hope Agenda.” Content creators, TikTok rhetoricians, journalists, social media strategists — all gathered to “shape perception.”
It was, in essence, a masterclass in political optics held at a time when Nigerians needed actual solutions.
The budget was not disclosed.
The contracts remain unknown.
The objective was clear:
control the national conversation.
It is difficult not to ask:
Why must a government spend so much to convince the people that they are not hungry?
History teaches that when governments begin investing more in propaganda than in policy, decline accelerates.
This is not sarcasm; it is a political rule observed from the Soviet Union to Latin America.
THE GENOCIDE NARRATIVE RETURNS TO ITS AUTHORS
Perhaps the most remarkable twist is the boomerang effect of the “Christian genocide” narrative.
This narrative, which was amplified at different times by Tinubu, Reno Omokri, Daniel Bwala, Rev. Father Matthew Hassan Kukah, and even the current INEC Chairman, was weaponized against former presidents Jonathan and Buhari.
Then came Donald Trump.
Using the same narrative these men fed international audiences, Trump declared Nigeria under Tinubu “a disgrace”, accused the government of allowing “thousands of Christians” to be killed, and publicly threatened to cut U.S. aid.
AP News, Reuters, and the Times of India reported Trump’s comments widely, and the U.S. promptly re-designated Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern — a status reserved for nations that fail to protect religious freedom.
The irony writes itself:
Those who once comforted themselves by attacking Buhari with this narrative now find themselves defending Tinubu against the very story they authored.
If political karma needed a case study, Nigeria just provided one.
THE LEGEND MYTH — MADNESS IN SLOW MOTION
Meanwhile, within Nigeria, a cult-like mythology has formed around the president.
Some of Tinubu’s ministers, digital advocates, and loyal commentators now insist that:
Tinubu is a “legend.”
His critics are saboteurs.
The Muslim North is plotting against him.
Buhari is to blame for everything.
Even Uthman Dan Fodio, dead since 1817, is somehow responsible for inflation.
It would be humorous if it were not so dangerous.
This selective mythology is the kind of political delusion that ancient philosophers warned about:
When power becomes deaf to criticism, destruction becomes predictable.
And so, as this section closes, Nigeria finds itself in a familiar paradox — guided by a leader praised for reforms that deepen hardship, defended by loyalists who bend reality to fit politics, and haunted by narratives that refuse to stay dead.
Final Chapter: From Hope to Hocus-Pocus
By the time Nigeria adjusted to the economic shockwaves created by Tinubu’s reforms, another reality emerged — one that has slowly transformed the national conversation from frustration into bewilderment.
For the first time in decades, Nigeria appears to have a government running at full speed while the country itself stands still, blinking in confusion.
THE AMERICAN EMBARRASSMENT: A TALE OF TWO PRESIDENCIES
Nothing reveals the contrast between Buhari and Tinubu more vividly than their interactions with the United States.
Under Buhari, Donald Trump praised Nigeria’s fight against Boko Haram, lauded Buhari’s “strong leadership,” and described Nigeria as “a valued democratic partner.” Trump even welcomed Buhari to the White House with ceremony and cameras, praising Nigeria’s role in defeating ISIS affiliates across West Africa.
Then came Tinubu.
The same Trump — now back in power — declared Nigeria under Tinubu “a disgrace,” accused the government of allowing Christians to be massacred, and threatened to cut off U.S. aid if the situation persisted. According to AP News and Reuters, Trump even went as far as directing the Pentagon to “explore options” for intervention if Nigeria “failed to protect vulnerable citizens.”
And the final humiliation?
Tinubu cannot even secure an appointment with the same Trump who once embraced Buhari warmly.
If foreign policy were a classroom, Buhari would be the student sitting calmly with his homework done, while Tinubu is the one standing in the corridor holding a report card full of red ink, trying to explain to the principal that “it’s not what it looks like.”
Tinubu’s defenders — never short of creativity — explain this away by blaming Buhari, the Muslim North, ECOWAS, or even the weather.
Anything but the man in power.
REGIONAL ISOLATION: WHEN EVERY NEIGHBOR CLOSES THEIR DOOR
Foreign policy disasters are not limited to Washington.
In West Africa, the fallout is even more dramatic.
Consider this:
Nigeria, once the diplomatic anchor of ECOWAS, has witnessed the largest regional fracture in modern West African history — all under Tinubu. Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso withdrew from ECOWAS not quietly, but in coordinated defiance, citing Tinubu’s aggressive posture toward Niger and his disrespectful handling of Sahelian leaders.
Somehow, in the space of months, Nigeria went from being the region’s big brother to the region’s “we’re not home, please go away” visitor.
This has consequences beyond embarrassment. Intelligence-sharing evaporated. Border patrols weakened. Cross-border military operations stalled.
It is no coincidence that Nigeria’s northern borders are now flooded with arms traffickers, insurgents slipping in and out at will, and criminal networks exploiting gaps once filled by cooperation.
Security analysts estimate that more than 135 northern border crossings are effectively unmonitored — the highest in recent decades.
Yet the official line from Tinubu’s supporters remains:
“Enemies are sabotaging him.”
Enemies?
Or self-inflicted isolation?
THE INFORMATION WARFARE FACTORY
Instead of repairing diplomatic fractures or stabilizing the economy, Tinubu’s administration invested heavily in a grand digital summit — a polished, chandelier-lit festival of influencers tasked with defending government policies.
Government officials, content creators, digital strategists, “data boys,” and political communicators gathered in Abuja for two days to craft the official narrative.
Not the official solution — the official narrative.
It is one of the oldest political tricks in history:
When a government cannot fix the problem, it fixes the story.
From the Soviet Union’s propaganda machine to modern-day authoritarian media ecosystems, controlling the narrative has always been the last refuge of administrations losing the policy battle.
So Nigeria, grappling with hunger, inflation, insecurity, and broken alliances, instead received:
hashtags,
soundbites,
glossy speeches,
and carefully rehearsed declarations that “all is well.”
All is well?
A nation where 129 million people live in poverty?
Where rice prices fluctuate like Bitcoin?
Where Trump threatens sanctions and intervention?
Where insurgents treat border forests like pedestrian walkways?
If this is “well,” then what exactly does “unwell” look like?
THE GENOCIDE NARRATIVE: RETURN OF THE BOOMERANG
The story grows darker — and more ironic.
The “Christian genocide” narrative, amplified for years by Tinubu, Reno Omokri, Daniel Bwala, Father Matthew Kukah, and others, was originally deployed to weaken Jonathan and Buhari on the global stage.
Trump believed it.
American politicians believed it.
International advocacy groups amplified it.
Now that the same narrative is turned against Tinubu, suddenly the architects of that rhetoric have become its loudest deniers.
They created the monster, fed it, trained it, and released it — and now that it bites them, they accuse the North of conspiracy.
You cannot make this up.
In global geopolitics, narratives have long half-lives. They survive administration changes. They outlive political convenience.
This is why the United States redesignated Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern, citing failures to protect religious communities.
When Trump said “Nigeria is a disgrace,” he was repeating the exact narrative Nigerian political actors exported for a decade.
This is not karma.
This is geopolitics teaching a very expensive lesson.
THE CULT OF THE LEGEND
Domestically, an even stranger phenomenon has taken root.
Tinubu’s inner circle and digital foot soldiers now portray him not as a political leader, but as an untouchable legend.
Their worldview is simple:
If the economy is collapsing, blame Buhari.
If inflation rises, blame saboteurs.
If borders crumble, blame Niger.
If Trump refuses to meet him, blame the North.
If food prices soar, blame Dan Fodio, who died 208 years ago.
At no point must the man in power be questioned.
At no time must policy failures be acknowledged.
Critics are enemies.
Opposition is terrorism.
Facts are optional.
Supporters insist:
“Tinubu is a legend.”
The question is rarely asked:
A legend of what?
Political wizardry?
Economic experiments gone wrong?
Diplomatic gymnastics?
Or simply legendary denial?
Because when a government begins to elevate its failures into achievements and reinterpret national suffering as patriotism, the line between dedication and delusion begins to blur.
It was the ancient Greeks who said:
“Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make confident.”
But in Nigeria, confidence is too gentle a word.
Madness comes closer.
CONCLUSION: THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A LEADER AND A DEALER
In the end, Buhari and Tinubu represent two contrasting eras of leadership:
Buhari governed cautiously, often too cautiously — but his policies, however slow, did not collapse the country.
Tinubu governs rapidly, boldly, and sometimes recklessly — and the consequences now unfold in real time.
A leader measures consequences.
A dealer gambles with them.
Buhari walked on eggshells.
Tinubu walked on landmines.
And Nigerians, caught between these two philosophies, are left to navigate the wreckage.
The story continues — and next week, Sarcastic Sunday will open a new chapter.
Because in Nigeria, the drama never ends.
It only reloads.
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