by Mohammed Bello Doka
13 July, 2026.
Today marks exactly one year since the passing of President Muhammadu Buhari, and as we commemorate this solemn anniversary, it is time for a long-overdue reckoning. The cacophony of criticism that defined his eight-year tenure has given way to a deafening silence from the same quarters that once screamed the loudest. The media houses of the Lagos-Ibadan axis, the political elites who weaponized every policy, the religious leaders who sermonized against his every move—they have all gone quiet. And in their silence lies the most damning indictment of their hypocrisy. Many Nigerians, particularly those who made a career of vilifying Buhari, owe him a profound apology.
Let us begin with the social intervention programs that were dismissed as mere political gimmicks by the critics who now preside over a nation in economic despair. Under Buhari, the National Social Investment Programme was not just a slogan; it was a lifeline for millions. The N-Power program engaged 500,000 young graduates and received presidential approval to expand to one million beneficiaries, equipping them with skills and monthly stipends in a transparent manner that even Vice President Yemi Osinbajo praised as a model for large-scale governance. The Government Enterprise and Empowerment Programme, with its TraderMoni, MarketMoni, and FarmerMoni components, extended micro-loans to petty traders, market women, and smallholder farmers in every village across the country. The National Home-Grown School Feeding Programme provided one nutritious meal daily to nearly ten million public primary school pupils. The Conditional Cash Transfer program reached vulnerable households through a National Social Register that identified over forty-six million persons in more than eleven million poor households across the federation. These were not empty promises. These were tangible interventions that put food on tables and money in the pockets of the poorest Nigerians.
Yet, the same media that now trembles in silence under the current administration once derided these programs as wasteful and inadequate. The Guardian, Punch, Vanguard, and The Nation—newspapers that positioned themselves as the moral conscience of the nation—spewed endless editorials questioning Buhari's competence, his integrity, and his humanity. They called him a disaster. They labeled his government a regime. They demanded his impeachment. But where are their voices today? Where are the front-page condemnations of the current administration that has plunged Nigeria into unprecedented hardship? A year after Buhari's death, these media houses have become lapdogs, afraid to speak truth to power, their editorial pages now filled with sanitized praises instead of the firebrand critiques they once wielded against a man who, whatever his faults, never oversaw the kind of economic collapse we now face.
Consider the numbers. Under Buhari, Nigeria's hunger index ranking stood at 103rd out of 123 countries in 2022. Today, under the current administration, that ranking has plummeted to 115th out of 123, classifying Nigeria among the world's most food-insecure nations. The World Bank now forecasts that thirty-three million Nigerians could experience severe hunger. The International Monetary Fund, in its latest report, confirmed that poverty has hit sixty-three percent under the national poverty line, with an estimated twenty-seven million Nigerians facing food insecurity in the fall of 2025. Think about that. While Buhari was accused of managing a struggling economy, his successor has overseen a collapse so severe that Nigeria now has the highest number of hungry people in the world. Inflation under Buhari was a challenge; under the current administration, it has become a crisis that erodes the savings of ordinary families. The naira that critics said Buhari refused to devalue has now been floated into oblivion, its value hemorrhaging in ways that make his conservative monetary policies look prescient.
The hypocrisy of the political elites is staggering. Nyesom Wike, now the Federal Capital Territory Minister, once declared that Buhari's only achievements were "people dying every day" and "the naira falling every day." He described the Buhari years as marked by "hunger, poverty, insecurity, and an economy in decline." Yet today, Wike serves in an administration where insecurity has metastasized to the South-West, where pupils and teachers are abducted in Oyo State while the government's response is measured in weeks of inaction. Where is Wike's righteous fury now? Where are the condemnations of an administration that has overseen the spread of terrorism to regions that were once safe under the government he so viciously attacked?
The religious leaders who thundered from their pulpits against Buhari have also gone silent. Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah, who described the Buhari era as the "worst phase in the history of interfaith relations" and accused the government of giving "oxygen to jihadists," has found little to say about an administration where the economic policies have devastated Christian and Muslim communities alike. His sermons, once filled with fiery condemnations of nepotism and constitutional breaches, now tread carefully. The same man who accused Buhari of "rubbishing Federal Character" and practicing nepotism with key security appointments has watched as the current administration appoints its loyalists across all sectors without a whisper of objection. The double standard is not just hypocrisy; it is a betrayal of the prophetic calling.
Professor Wole Soyinka, the Nobel Laureate who called Buhari a "disaster" and an "idiot" for the Twitter ban, has been conspicuously muted about the current administration's handling of the economy, the security crisis, and the suppression of dissent. When Buhari was in power, Soyinka gave him an ultimatum to use "maximum force" against insurgents and declared that nothing happened. Today, as banditry and kidnapping spread across the country, the Professor's voice is nowhere to be found. The intellectuals who made their reputations tearing down Buhari have become courtiers to the new establishment, their critiques reserved only for those who cannot fight back.
The truth is that Buhari was not a perfect leader. His administration had its failures, its missteps, its moments of frustrating inertia. But he governed with a measure of restraint that is now conspicuously absent. He refused to devalue the naira because he understood the devastating impact it would have on ordinary Nigerians. He maintained the fuel subsidy to protect the poor from the full shock of global price increases. He closed the borders to protect local farmers and insisted that Nigeria would not spend foreign reserves importing food. These were policies that critics dismissed as backward and protectionist. Yet today, with the subsidy removed, the naira floated, and the borders open, Nigerians are paying the price in ways that make Buhari's caution look like wisdom. The same critics who demanded these reforms now preside over the chaos they unleashed, and they owe Buhari an apology for their reckless advocacy.
The current administration's attack on Buhari's legacy, as exposed by figures like Phrank Shaibu, reflects a desperate attempt to deflect from its own failures. When presidential aides attack a dead man while Nigerians starve, when they blame Buhari's ghost for the failure to tame inflation, stop the naira from bleeding, or keep the lights on, they reveal their own incompetence. Buhari, whatever his faults, never hid behind the coffin of his predecessor. He faced his critics, even when they were unfair, even when they were vicious. The current administration hides behind Buhari's shadow because it cannot face the reality of its own governance failures.
Nigerians owe Buhari an apology because the judgment passed on his administration was often based on unrealistic expectations and partisan venom rather than a fair assessment of his efforts. He inherited a country devastated by insurgency and economic mismanagement. He built social safety nets that, whatever their flaws, provided direct relief to millions. He invested in infrastructure that, for all the criticism, remains a visible legacy of his tenure. And he left office without the kind of economic collapse that has now become the defining feature of the current administration.
The media that pilloried him, the politicians who demonized him, the religious leaders who sermonized against him, and the intellectuals who dismissed him should now look in the mirror. They should ask themselves whether their criticisms were motivated by genuine concern for Nigeria or by a desire to score political points. They should ask themselves whether the alternative they championed has proven any better. And they should apologize, not just to Buhari's memory, but to the Nigerian people who were misled by their propaganda.
One year after his passing, it is time to recognize that Buhari was not the cause of Nigeria's problems. He was a man who tried, in his own way, to navigate a complex and difficult nation through turbulent times. The vultures who circled his presidency now sit in positions of power, and they have delivered nothing but hunger, poverty, and insecurity. They owe him an apology. We all do.
Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
Abuja Network News
Tags
Opinion