Recently, Buba Galadima, once a close confidant of Muhammadu Buhari, laid bare what many Nigerians suspected but were unwilling to voice publicly: Buhari was not brought to power to save Nigeria, but to protect Fulani interests. Galadima revealed that the 2015 Buhari project was designed to shield Fulani herdsmen from reprisals, particularly in the South-West, where the Oodua People’s Congress (OPC) had begun pushing back against their excesses. This revelation, as unsettling as it is, reframes Buhari’s presidency as a calculated project of ethnic preservation, not national service.
From his first day in office, Buhari’s governance bore the hallmarks of someone unprepared and disconnected from the complex reality of leading a modern, multi-ethnic nation. His tendency to prioritize cattle over human lives was not mere speculation. In several interviews and official statements, he equated the killings by armed herders to disputes over cattle ownership, arguing that the herders had “a right to defend their cattle,” as if cows carried equal moral weight as human beings. Entire communities in Benue, Plateau, Southern Kaduna, and elsewhere were sacked by these militias, yet Buhari’s response was silence or, at best, tepid press releases crafted by aides.
His anti-corruption mantra, once a rallying cry, eventually became a hollow slogan. Beneath it lay nepotism and a dangerous tolerance for incompetence, as long as the culprits were loyalists, preferably from the northern region. The federal character principle became a casualty as Buhari systematically filled sensitive and strategic positions with northerners. The heads of the Army, Police, Customs, Immigration, DSS, and other security agencies were predominantly northern Muslims. The clearest example came in 2019 when Buhari, during a live interview, bluntly told Nigerians that he appointed people he “trusted.” To Buhari, national unity and inclusion were subservient to personal loyalty.
The economic domain fared no better. The naira redesign debacle, arguably the most glaring policy misadventure of his administration, exposed Buhari’s detachment from economic realities. In October 2022, acting on his directive, the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN), under Godwin Emefiele, announced a redesign of the ₦200, ₦500, and ₦1000 notes. What followed was a nationwide cash scarcity crisis. Citizens queued endlessly for money that didn’t exist in banks, traders watched their businesses collapse, and rural dwellers were trapped in economic paralysis. Buhari defended the policy, claiming it would reduce vote-buying and corruption, yet the Supreme Court ruled against it a ruling Buhari subtly defied when he announced that only the old ₦200 notes remained legal tender.
Even Bola Ahmed Tinubu, Buhari’s political ally and eventual successor, could not ignore the disastrous policy. During one of his presidential campaign rallies in Abeokuta, Tinubu publicly declared that the naira redesign was a plot to sabotage his chances at the polls. His exact words rang loud: “They want to redesign the naira and hoard it so that I won’t become president. Whether they like it or not, we will win.” Tinubu’s explosive statement underlined the political desperation underpinning the policy, a decision driven more by personal vendetta and control than any sound economic reasoning.
Buhari’s personal style of leadership was often reduced to repetitive rhetoric devoid of substance. His speeches were littered with the phrase “I assure you,” yet Nigerians grew accustomed to these assurances yielding nothing. Whether addressing insecurity, fuel scarcity, economic hardship, or communal killings, Buhari’s promises became national punchlines—empty phrases unbacked by decisive action. His “I assure you” was not an expression of commitment but a verbal placeholder, a convenient way to sidestep uncomfortable realities.
His disinterest in effective governance was compounded by his preference for governing from the shadows or from abroad. Throughout his tenure, Buhari spent over 200 days cumulatively outside the country on medical tourism, without once disclosing the nature of his ailment. In his absence, unelected cabals reportedly took over the reins of power. The likes of Abba Kyari and later other unnamed northern power brokers dictated the affairs of the state while Buhari watched, or perhaps, did not care.
The security architecture of the nation, expected to benefit from Buhari’s military pedigree, instead became a theatre of bloodshed and confusion. Boko Haram attacks intensified in the North-East, while banditry, kidnappings, and herder invasions spread nationwide. His administration’s policy of “rehabilitating repentant terrorists” further alienated Nigerians. These so-called rehabilitated insurgents were reintegrated into society without clear oversight, while their victims received no justice.
Perhaps Buhari’s most enduring legacy is one of missed opportunities. With the kind of goodwill he enjoyed in 2015, a goodwill so powerful it crossed ethnic and religious divides, Buhari had a historic chance to rewrite Nigeria’s story. Instead, he clung to outdated ideas, embraced ethnic favouritism, and rewarded failure. His loyalty to incompetent aides like Abubakar Malami, Godwin Emefiele, and other ineffectual appointees exposed a president more interested in protecting his inner circle than serving the people.
Buba Galadima’s revelation now puts Buhari’s entire administration into clearer perspective: Nigerians elected a man who wanted power but not leadership, a leader who saw governance not as national stewardship but as an opportunity to secure ethnic interests. Buhari’s presidency will forever stand as a painful reminder of what happens when power-seeking ambition is not matched with preparation, vision, or empathy.
Buhari was not the president Nigeria needed. He was the president of a powerful northern elite installed to protect itself. And for eight long years, Nigerians paid the price.
For the numerous acts of havoc he committed and that Nigerians witnessed under his leadership, hopefully, his soul will rest in peace.
‘Kayode Awojobi is a multiple award-winning broadcast journalist. He’s a political and social commentator.
