AmanaOnline

When Power Fears the People

By Babayola M. Toungo

What exactly is President Bola Ahmed Tinubu afraid of? A T-shirt? A political meeting? A book examining his administration? Or the possibility that Nigerians may decide he does not deserve another mandate? When young men are arrested over T-shirts bearing the slogan “Tinubu Must Go,” police obstruct a meeting organised by citizens seeking to vote him out in 2027, a critical book presentation loses its venue, and a former governor remains in detention for months while his applications for bail are refused, the question becomes unavoidable – what has happened to the democratic convictions of a man who spent decades presenting himself as a champion of democracy?

Before it escalates, Nigeria must confront a disturbing possibility – institutions established to protect citizens’ rights are losing public confidence precisely when their independence matters most.

In Borno State, five young men were arrested and charged with offences including criminal conspiracy, inciting disturbance, breach of public peace and thuggery in connection with T-shirts bearing the inscription “Tinubu Must Go.” The police also alleged that suspected illicit substances and other items were found in their possession. Those allegations must be tested in court. But why should a political slogan become entangled in a criminal prosecution? If there is credible evidence of an independently identifiable offence, let the prosecution establish it. What must not be permitted is the criminalisation of political dissent by implication.

In Kano, members of the “Tinubu Must Go” movement were reportedly prevented by police officers from accessing a venue where they intended to strategise for the President’s electoral defeat in 2027. The police cited security concerns. Yet the central question remains – what is inherently unlawful about citizens meeting peacefully to organise against an incumbent? If their objective is to persuade voters to reject Tinubu at the next election, they are pursuing the very constitutional mechanism through which governments are changed.

Then came Kaduna, where Arewa House cancelled the booking for the presentation of Tinubu: From Renewed Hope to Despair: A Critical Examination of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s Government. The management cited administrative considerations, while the organisers alleged political interference and subsequently announced plans to relocate the event to Abuja. The competing claims require scrutiny. Nevertheless, the circumstances raise an uncomfortable question – has criticism of the President become so inconvenient that even a book examining his record must struggle to find a venue?

Add to these controversies the case of Nasir el-Rufai, the former Kaduna governor, whose prolonged detention by the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC) and unsuccessful attempts to secure bail have generated further questions about due process. In October 2026, the Court of Appeal upheld the refusal of bail. El-Rufai faces allegations of financial wrongdoing that must be established through a fair trial. His former office does not place him above the law, but neither should his political standing deprive him of the protections available to every accused person. The court’s decision does not, by itself, prove political persecution. Yet prolonged detention makes timely proceedings, transparent judicial reasoning and confidence in impartial justice all the more important.

There is no need to manufacture a conspiracy or pretend that every police action, prosecutorial decision and judicial ruling is directed by the Presidency. The more serious concern is that the cumulative effect of these incidents is eroding public confidence in institutions whose legitimacy depends on their independence. Institutions do not need to receive explicit political instructions to become objects of suspicion. Decisions that appear arbitrary, disproportionate or inadequately explained can do the damage themselves.

This is the institutional crisis Nigeria must confront: the growing perception that the machinery of state is more effective at managing political dissent than addressing the grievances that produce it.

Tinubu should understand the danger better than most. He spent decades in opposition politics, challenging incumbents and presenting himself as a defender of democratic struggle. His political history makes the present controversies particularly troubling. Was opposition legitimate only when he was outside the Presidency? Were the freedoms he once defended universal principles or merely instruments useful in the struggle to acquire power?

A politician’s democratic credentials are not established by the battles he fought before entering office. They are established by how he exercises power once he gets there. Tinubu cannot invoke his history of opposition activism as a permanent certificate of democratic virtue while presiding over a political environment in which peaceful opposition repeatedly encounters controversy with the authorities.

The Constitution protects freedom of expression and peaceful assembly under Sections 39 and 40. These rights do not excuse violence or independently established criminal conduct. They do, however, establish a basic principle – disagreement with the President is not, in itself, a threat to national security.

The disturbing feature of these episodes is the displacement of public grievances by attempts to manage their expression. Instead of answering criticism, attention shifts to the critics. Instead of allowing opposition groups to organise, the focus turns to security restrictions. Instead of challenging a critical book with evidence, its public presentation becomes entangled in a dispute over access to a venue. The messenger becomes the problem while the message escapes scrutiny.

If Tinubu believes his economic policies are working, he should present the evidence. If his security strategy is succeeding, he should demonstrate measurable results. If his administration deserves another mandate, he should defend its record before Nigerians. He does not need police barricades to protect his arguments or administrative obstacles to spare him uncomfortable questions. A government confident in its achievements should welcome scrutiny. An incumbent who believes he deserves another term should be prepared to persuade voters rather than restrict the activities of those seeking his defeat.

The implications for 2027 are serious. Electoral credibility is not created on polling day; it depends on whether political groups can organise, candidates can campaign, journalists can investigate and citizens can advocate a change of government without arbitrary obstruction. An election may proceed according to schedule and still suffer from a political environment in which opposition is constrained and public confidence in the fairness of competition has deteriorated.

Is Nigeria preparing for an election or drifting towards an electoral coronation? The incidents discussed here do not prove that the outcome has been predetermined. But they make the question legitimate. Will Nigerians encounter a genuinely competitive contest in 2027, or will the space for opposition be progressively narrowed before they reach the polling stations?

A coronation requires no genuine competition. An election requires that the incumbent’s defeat remain a real possibility. That is the difference between treating citizens as sovereign participants and treating them as an audience expected to endorse the preferences of those in power.

The government should understand that suppressing the expression of grievances does not eliminate the grievances themselves. It can instead deepen resentment, encourage self-censorship and undermine confidence in institutions. Nigeria, already burdened by economic hardship and insecurity, cannot afford an additional crisis of legitimacy arising from the perception that peaceful political participation is becoming dangerous or futile.

The immediate responsibility lies with the authorities. They should clarify the circumstances surrounding the Borno arrests, explain the basis for the police action in Kano, ensure transparency over the Arewa House cancellation and guarantee fair, timely proceedings in the cases involving el-Rufai and others. These are not concessions to the opposition. They are obligations of public office.

The opposition must also operate peacefully and lawfully. No movement has a licence to incite violence or disregard legitimate security measures. But the obligation to obey the law cannot become an unrestricted licence for authorities to obstruct political activity. The same standards must apply to government supporters and opponents alike.

Ultimately, this is about whether the Nigerian state can command the confidence of citizens who disagree with those governing them. When institutions are trusted only when their decisions favour a particular political camp, their independence becomes an abstraction. When citizens begin to suspect that public authority is being deployed to protect incumbents from scrutiny, the damage extends beyond individual cases and threatens the credibility of the political system itself.

The struggle for civilian rule was never meant to replace military uniforms with civilian suits while preserving the instinct to silence inconvenient voices. It was a struggle against arbitrary power and for a system in which leaders could be challenged and removed without violence. Winning an election confers a temporary mandate to govern; it does not confer ownership of the state.

Tinubu cannot have it both ways. He cannot celebrate the democratic struggle that shaped his political career while tolerating a climate in which opposition activity is shadowed by arrests, blocked meetings and disputed institutional decisions. Nor can his government demand public confidence while treating questions about institutional conduct as attacks on the nation.

The Presidency is not a throne. The police are not the ruling party’s security wing. Public institutions are not private property. And Nigerians are not subjects whose political opinions require official approval. If Tinubu believes he deserves another mandate, he must make his case to the electorate and allow his opponents to make theirs. The right of an incumbent to seek re-election is inseparable from the right of citizens to campaign for his defeat.

The real danger is not that Nigerians are saying “Tinubu Must Go.” It is that they may begin to believe their voices no longer count and that the institutions through which they should exercise political power cannot be trusted.

Before it escalates, the President must decide whether his legacy will be defined by the democratic freedoms he once championed or by the restrictions his administration permits. He must demonstrate, through the conduct of his government, that no Nigerian will be unlawfully obstructed merely for advocating his electoral defeat. In 2027, Nigerians must be free to choose their government – and free to campaign for its removal.

Anything less would turn an election into a ritual of endorsement and reduce the sovereignty of the Nigerian people to a constitutional fiction.