Politics

Buhari: A Legacy of Paradox and Debt – Sam Omatseye Reflects

Published by Tope Fakinlede on July 14th, 2025.

Buhari: A Legacy of Paradox and Debt – Sam Omatseye Reflects

Muhammadu Buhari’s time in power will be remembered not just for its controversies, but for the deep contradictions that defined his leadership. Few Nigerian leaders have evoked such a mix of reverence and resentment. He first emerged in the public consciousness as a no-nonsense military officer and left office as a complex figure—part soldier, part statesman, part enigma.

Peter Enahoro, famously known as Peter Pan, once described him as “deceptively gentle.” That portrayal has remained strikingly relevant, from his early military days to his final exit as a civilian president. Buhari evolved, yet remained curiously unchanged—a man of few words but many interpretations.

My first encounter with him was when he served as the General Officer Commanding in Jos. Even then, he emphasized the Constitution, urging soldiers to know their civic duty. That gesture suggested a man with a mind for order and governance.

In the early 1980s, columnist Ebenezer Babatope warned of Buhari’s potential rise to power. He foresaw the now-familiar scenario—a sudden military takeover led by the quiet but determined Katsina general. That prediction came true in December 1983, when Buhari, with calm intensity and military poise, assumed control of the nation.

Years later, during a meeting with him in Abuja, he recalled a phone number I had used that ended with “1983”—a year he seemed to hold dear, almost nostalgically. There was a rare twinkle in his eye, a glimpse of vanity behind the austere facade.

Back then, I believed Buhari might be the leader Nigeria needed—disciplined, incorruptible, and spartan. I imagined him bringing order and sanity to a system long riddled with decay. He ran for office with the promise of anti-corruption and national rebirth. But the promise soon soured.

His presidency became a cautionary tale of good intentions gone awry. Rather than leading with vision, he ruled through a closed circle resistant to new ideas. Figures like Attorney General Malami symbolised this retreat into archaic thinking—championing outdated policies like grazing routes while the world moved on.

Economically, his administration was disastrous. With limited strategies for growth, his government leaned heavily on borrowing, amassing over ₦30 trillion in debt through the Ways and Means facility alone. Rather than healing the economy inherited from Jonathan, he left it weaker, more unstable, and less hopeful.

Buhari’s political choices also betrayed a lack of consistency. He publicly distanced himself from succession politics, yet covertly supported Ahmad Lawan over Bola Tinubu—the very man whose political architecture had propelled him into Aso Rock. It was an act many saw as both ungrateful and hypocritical.

Fuel shortages, currency crises, and policy confusion marked the 2023 election season—events critics interpreted as deliberate attempts to undermine Tinubu’s candidacy. Buhari’s loyalty to party and country was questioned, especially when he urged voters to choose their conscience for state offices while campaigning for himself.

Throughout his time, Buhari projected moral authority. But in practice, his leadership lacked both empathy and innovation. His so-called discipline was often rigid, unyielding, and void of strategic imagination. His moral compass didn’t always translate into equitable governance.

His handling of the herder crisis only deepened divisions, reinforcing perceptions of bias. His silence or inaction as banditry spread across the north allowed terror to fester. Critics argue he did too little to stop the violence—some even believed he was reluctant to confront the menace head-on.

I once viewed Buhari as a man of principle. In hindsight, he seems more like a man enamored with his own myth. He presented himself as austere and incorruptible, but failed to deliver real reform. His charisma—a mix of stern silence and perceived selflessness—drew blind loyalty. But charisma without results becomes hollow.

Despite all, Buhari’s image remains curiously resilient. He lived as a political phenomenon, driven more by symbolism than substance. He governed more with presence than policy. His followers saw virtue in his aloofness, mistaking detachment for wisdom.

He contributed positively in certain areas, particularly infrastructure and rail transport, where he partnered effectively with Babatunde Fashola. These may be among the few enduring legacies of his presidency.

In the end, Buhari was a puzzle—a leader who seemed destined for greatness but governed like a man unsure of the path forward. He inspired belief but often fell short. He loved Nigeria, perhaps, but not enough to rise above his personal convictions and limitations.

He may not be forgotten, but whether he will be fo

ndly remembered remains uncertain.