By Yushau A. Shuaib
Lasisi Olagunju, an esteemed columnist renowned for his incisive and thought-provoking writing, has long captivated readers with his ability to intertwine Yoruba folktales, historical references, and literary insight. His articles often critically examine Nigeria’s political and social landscape uniquely. Yet, even admirers like myself—a friend of over two decades—occasionally find ourselves questioning some of his more provocative viewpoints.
Armed with a First-Class degree in English Studies and a PhD in political communication, Olagunju skillfully employs proverbs and allegorical storytelling to enrich his narratives, often embedding subtle hints that resonate with discerning readers capable of reading between the lines.
However, one area that has at times troubled me during our discussions is his candid—and at times excessive—criticism of Northern Nigeria, which often extends to former President Buhari. Olagunju’s thematic collection of essays titled “Cowries of Blood” offers a poignant glimpse into his perspective on the Arewa region.
In his recent column, “In Defence of Nepotism,” Olagunju recounts a conversation with a northern friend (he didn’t say I am the one) who criticised President Bola Tinubu for nepotistic appointments favouring the Yoruba. Olagunju counters this by asserting that the majority of key security appointments under Tinubu are held by northerners. His analysis appears to be informed by recent data from Sunday Dare, the newly appointed Presidential Adviser on Public Communication and Orientation. This data claims that strategic security roles are predominantly occupied by northerners, thereby challenging allegations of ethnic favouritism toward the Yoruba.
While Olagunju and Dare invoke the term “key and strategic positions” to bolster their arguments, they should note that certain statutory lead agencies hold far more critical operational and mandated significance than others.
For example, Dare’s analysis is not without its flaws. It raises eyebrows when he includes the two Defence Ministers, Muhammad Badaru and Bello Matawalle, as northern heads of agencies responsible for supervising the Army, Navy, and Air Force, yet omits the Minister of Interior, Dr. Olubunmi Tunji-Ojo from the Southwest, who oversees pivotal security agencies such as the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC), Immigration, Prison and the Fire Services as well as the board in charge of recruitments and promotions in those agencies.
Additionally, Dare, a former Minister of Youth and Sports, makes a confusing classification by listing the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) and the Nigerian Financial Intelligence Unit (NFIU) as security agencies led by northerners. Haba! This stretch of the concept of security agencies beyond their traditional confines further fuels scepticism regarding the credibility of his claims.
While Dare’s narrative may appear disingenuous, Olagunju’s assertion that Nigeria is geopolitically divided into three regions—South, West, and North—is laughable.
Emerging analyses, such as a recent report by PRNigeria, present a more nuanced view of security leadership distribution across Nigeria’s six geopolitical zones: Northwest, Northeast, Northcentral, Southwest, Southeast, and South-South.
Olagunju’s perspectives on nepotism extend beyond mere data analysis. He argues that nepotism, often viewed negatively, can be a pragmatic strategy for leaders navigating Nigeria’s complex ethno-regional landscape. He traces the pattern of regional favouritism in appointments back to previous administrations.
A particularly striking claim from Olagunju posits that former President Olusegun Obasanjo strategically appointed primarily Southern and Northern Christians to sensitive security positions to mitigate perceived threats to his administration.
Olagunju notes, “Obasanjo had three Inspectors-General of Police, and all three were from his western region (Yoruba). His DG SSS from 1999 to 2007 was Colonel Kayode Are, his Abeokuta kinsman. For the army, Obasanjo, a Southern Christian, in eight years, had four gentlemen as his Chief of Army Staff. He started in 1999 with Victor Malu, a Christian from the North; then he moved south and picked Alexander Ogomudia, a Southern minority. After two years, two months, Obasanjo took the position back to the North but did not give it to those who might use it to injure him. He picked Martin Luther Agwai, a Southern Kaduna minority Christian. Three years later, he went south again and selected Andrew Owoye Azazi, another Southern minority. He was clearly deliberate about what he did, mixing his nationalist broth with condiments of small nepotism here a little altruism there. The Obasanjo experience ended almost twenty years ago. This is the age of reason, with an apology to Thomas Paine. The gloves are off.”
However, as Olagunju emphasises this troubling narrative, it raises pertinent questions: Are Northern Muslims seen as potential threats capable of undermining any sitting president? Does this atmosphere of distrust underpin Tinubu’s preference for predominantly Yoruba Christian leadership within critical security agencies?
Despite being a Muslim, President Tinubu has entrusted the most influential security and economic positions predominantly to Yoruba Christians from the Southwest. Notable examples include the Acting Chief of Army Staff, Lt. Gen. Olufemi Oluyode; Inspector General of Police, Kayode Egbetokun; Director General of the DSS, Adeola Ajayi; and EFCC Chairman, Olanipekun Olukayede, who all lead front-line agencies in military, security, intelligence, and anti-corruption efforts.
Similarly, key national economic positions are held by Yoruba Christians from the South-West, such as the Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN), Yemi Cardoso; the powerful Chairman of the Federal Inland Revenue Service (FIRS), Zacch Adedeji; and the Minister of Finance and Coordinating Minister of the Economy, Wale Edun.
Olagunju’s analysis deepens when he alludes to the power dynamics within Tinubu’s administration. He provocatively suggests uncertainty surrounding who truly holds power—whether it is President Tinubu, his wife Remi Tinubu, an ordained senior pastor in the Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG), or even their son and close associates.
This observation leads to a broader concern about the direction of Nigeria’s democracy. Could this also reflect the agitation of Yoruba Muslims who feel underrepresented in Tinubu’s administration?
Olagunju further predicts impending leadership changes, particularly regarding the next Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) chairman. He argues that Tinubu’s choice is likely to reflect home-region bias, echoing the missteps of previous leaders. He warns that unlike President Goodluck Jonathan—who appointed a non-regional INEC chairman to his detriment—Tinubu will likely prioritize regional loyalty in this critical appointment in 2025.
The implications of nepotism in Nigeria’s leadership are profound. Every moment a leader prioritizes ethnicity over competence is a moment that edges the nation closer to instability. If certain groups are deemed untrustworthy for critical appointments, how can they, in turn, trust the administration with their votes?
Ultimately, every moment spent fostering nepotism over competence distances Nigeria from effective governance. Leaders must embrace inclusivity and meritocracy to nurture trust and collaboration among all regions and ethnicities. Only then can Nigeria aspire to realise its full potential as a united nation.
Yushau A. Shuaib