Valentine Obienyem
Nigeria is fast becoming a country of political gangs, led by men who now regard themselves as gangsters and the country as their conquered territory. They see themselves as suzerains and Nigeria, with its institutions and citizens, as nothing more than their personal suzerainties. In their estimation, power is not a public trust but a licence to intimidate, manipulate, exploit, dominate and dispense favours to members of their political fraternity. When they act, all we see is the secret of their guild.
At the head of this established political gang culture is President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, with prominent members and enforcers including Godswill Akpabio, Festus Keyamo, Nyesom Wike, Femi Gbajabiamila and others. Consider Gbajabiamila, for instance. How does someone remain so comfortably embedded in the corridors of power, despite the controversies and allegations that have followed his political career? Rather than being denounced, he is protected as a worthy member of the guild.
The gang also has its political foot soldiers and regional enforcers. In the South-East, for instance, we have seen politicians such as David Umahi and Charles Soludo who, rather than demonstrate the independence and courage expected of elected leaders, are more concerned with accommodating the interests of the powerful political establishment in Abuja. They seem to have forgotten that public office is not an extension of anybody’s political empire. In Igbo parlance, they appear not even to understand how the sharing of”nkụ ụkwa” is done, beyond being used against their own people.
In the media and propaganda machinery, another group of political enforcers is irritatingly with us. Names such as Bayo Onanuga, Femi Fani-Kayode, Daniel Bwala, Reno Omokri and Segun Showunmi frequently feature in the political communication arena. Their methods and individual circumstances may differ, but the common feature of this political communication culture is its tendency to substitute personal attacks, intimidation and character assassination for reasoned engagement with opposing views. They gained prominence through sycophancy and use sycophancy to sustain what they have gained.
However, our concern today is a particular group of political actors whose encounters with “Arise” Television’s Rufai Oseni have become increasingly predictable. At the head of this group, at least judging by his latest television performance, is Comrade Adams Oshiomhole. What shall we call them? The Anti-Rufai Gang?
Have you watched Oshiomhole’s latest appearance on “Arise” Television’s “The Morning Show” on Friday, 30 October 2026? If you did, you would have noticed something beyond an ordinary disagreement between a politician and a journalist. While Rufai came on as a good and seasoned journalist who had done his research before the engagement and was simply out to get the best out of his interviewee, Oshiomhole came across as someone prepared for a confrontation rather than an interview. We could surmise the bitterness in his disposition from his declaration to Rufai: “I am very ready for you.”
This is not an isolated incident. There is a growing pattern in which certain political figures approach interviews involving Rufai as though they were going into a boxing ring. You can see them attacking Rufai with the hatred of two enemies who have met face to face in war. Indeed, there have been suggestions that some political figures, including Umahi, are uncomfortable appearing before him. Whether or not such claims are established, the public record of their encounters is revealing.
Recall David Umahi’s appearance on “Arise” Television on 7 October 2025. Rather than concentrate on the substantive questions concerning the Lagos-Calabar Coastal Highway, the Minister of Works descended into personal attacks, telling Rufai to keep quiet, questioning his knowledge and declaring, in his usual arrogance, that he was too small to report him to the President. The spectacle was particularly unfortunate because it involved a public officer who should ordinarily welcome scrutiny of a major national infrastructure project.
Then came Lere Olayinka, media aide to Nyesom Wike. On 4 September 2026, his appearance on the same programme ended abruptly after he refused to answer Rufai’s questions, describing the presenter in terms that prompted the other anchors to intervene and terminate the interview. You could see that, like their gang leader, Oshiomhole, he was prepared to deal with Rufai even before coming for the interview. If you are going to appear on a television programme, why come only to decide which of its presenters you are willing to answer?
More recently, on 27 October 2026, Felix Morka, the APC National Publicity Secretary, engaged Rufai in a heated exchange over President Tinubu’s Kaduna campaign rally and the state of the Nigerian economy. Rather than directly address the questions about the economic hardship confronting Nigerians, he defended the President’s appearance at the rally and described critical expectations as coming from “opposition tribesmen dressed as journalists”.
Bayo Onanuga has also publicly attacked Rufai, including his criticism of the journalist’s comments on the February 2026 FCT Area Council elections. His response included accusing Rufai of having a pathological hatred for the APC. These are different encounters, but they contribute to an atmosphere in which journalists who ask uncomfortable questions are treated as political opponents rather than professionals performing a constitutional and democratic responsibility.
Now, back to Oshiomhole. What exactly was the former labour leader trying to achieve? One would have expected a man who built his political identity around the struggle for workers’ rights and opposition to authoritarian tendencies to understand the importance of accountability. Yet, whenever questions become uncomfortable, the tendency appears to be to turn the interview into a contest of personalities.
I watched Oshiomhole that day. His eyes initially appeared sombre, while his face was lined with battle and bitterness. What was he fighting? What had Rufai done to deserve such a disposition? One could almost mistake the encounter for a confrontation between two old adversaries rather than an interview between a public official and a journalist. His readiness for battle seemed to precede his readiness to answer questions.
But what is Rufai like, this lusty voice of his time, perhaps one of the most distinctive figures in contemporary Nigerian journalism? He reminds us of the most likeable of Nigerian journalists because he feeds the public with the right menu. He does not merely serve up whatever is convenient, fashionable or pleasing to those in power. He insists on asking questions, examining claims and bringing neglected issues to the attention of the public. He always sets himself apart with a blunt directness that frightens interviewees who would rather have an easy passage through an interview.
Why, for instance, has he not quarrelled with the likes of Professor Okey Ikechukwu? Why is he not perpetually at loggerheads with journalists and intellectuals who are equally prepared to engage difficult questions? Could it be that those who take offence at his methods are not necessarily opposed to his journalism but to the discomfort his questions bring? He becomes a terror to those struggling to defend the indefensible, not to those who come prepared to engage him intellectually.
Rufai almost always emerges from the interviews in which he participates with a halo of glory. This is not necessarily because he wins every argument or gets everything right, but because he often succeeds in bringing the issues that matter to the fore. Officials who fear his scrutiny, or perhaps resent his popularity, sometimes resort to maligning him as a disgrace to journalism. Yet, one must ask: what exactly constitutes the disgrace? Is it asking difficult questions, demanding explanations or refusing to allow public officials to escape scrutiny?
In every civilisation, including the evolution of journalism, a time comes when old ways must be re-examined if the profession is to readjust itself to irresistible change. Rufai is an instrument of that re-examination. His approach may not always conform to the conventions to which some practitioners have become accustomed, but it compels the profession to reconsider the relationship between journalism, public accountability and the exercise of power.
Once convinced of the rightness of his cause and its positive implications for society, Rufai can remain immovably and admirably fixed in his views, dedicating himself to seeing them through with an intensity of passion hardly common among Nigerian journalists. He is, in many respects, a perfect pilot navigating the stormy waters of contemporary Nigerian journalism.
Of course, Rufai Oseni is not above criticism. No journalist is. He can interrupt, pursue a line of questioning too aggressively or even get things wrong. Journalists must equally be held to professional standards. But there is a difference between challenging a journalist’s methods and attempting to intimidate him into silence. Public officials must answer questions, not demand immunity from scrutiny.
What makes this spectacle even more interesting is the apparent asymmetry. These politicians enjoy access to public resources, powerful political networks and enormous media platforms. Rufai, on the other hand, is a journalist asking questions on a television programme. Why should his questioning become such a source of anxiety?
Perhaps the real problem is that some of these political actors have become accustomed to an environment in which nobody asks them difficult questions. Have you watched Wike’s moonlight programmes with journalists? They expect interviews to be public relations exercises, with journalists providing the microphones and the politicians supplying carefully rehearsed answers, including taking the liberty of using such a platform to pour obloquy on those old enough to be their fathers. The moment a Rufai insists on accountability, making the interview serious enough to yield some benefits for the country, the journalist becomes an enemy.
Many of our media practitioners inundate the public with fleeting, sensational and superficial events, passing them off as news, while pandering to the sentiments and interests of the moment. In the process, they deprive their audiences of the deeper perspectives, historical context and continuity necessary for understanding society and its challenges. This is where Rufai stands out. He does not merely report events; he interrogates them, connects the present with the past, questions prevailing narratives and insists that public officials account for their actions. In a media environment increasingly consumed by sensationalism and superficial commentary, we cannot afford to disregard the importance of this kind of journalism.
This is precisely the danger of allowing political power to degenerate into a gang mentality. A democracy cannot function when those entrusted with public authority begin to regard scrutiny as hostility, criticism as insubordination and journalists as adversaries to be subdued. This defines what we can ingeniously call Rufai versus them.
Oshiomhole should remember that he was once a voice against the abuse of power. The labour movement did not produce him so that he could become an apostle of political intimidation. The man who once challenged those in authority is now uncomfortable when another citizen challenges those in authority. He reminds us of why Pascal called man a chimera: “What a chimera then is man! What a novelty, what a monster, what a chaos…”
And to Rufai, I would say this: all they are striving to do is to make you whittle yourself down to a version of what they find convenient. Please, do not allow them to contaminate you to the point of losing the ancient principles of honour and virtue you have infused into journalism. Do not mistake their hostility for a reason to abandon your convictions. Remain open to criticism, correct your mistakes where necessary, but never surrender the independence that makes your journalism valuable. Nigeria needs journalists who are prepared to ask the questions others would rather avoid.