City Boy Movement: Youth Mobilisation or a Rebranded Political Machine?
By Matthew Eloyi
In a country where young people are desperate for authentic platforms to express frustration, demand accountability and shape the future, the emergence of the City Boy Movement should, in theory, have been a welcome development. Instead, it has become a troubling example of how youth energy in Nigeria is repeatedly repackaged, redirected and ultimately subsumed into elite political interests.
From its origins, the City Boy Movement, founded by Seyi Tinubu, has been closely tied to the political rise and presidency of his father, Bola Ahmed Tinubu. What began as a campaign support structure during the 2023 elections has since attempted to reinvent itself as a broad-based civic organisation championing youth inclusion and policy awareness. Yet beneath the rebranding lies a fundamental contradiction: a movement that claims to empower young people while operating largely as a partisan echo chamber.
The language of the City Boy Movement is heavy with buzzwords: “grassroots mobilisation,” “policy sensitisation,” “Renewed Hope.” But these phrases ring hollow when weighed against the realities on the ground. True youth empowerment requires independence, critical engagement and the courage to question power. What the movement offers instead is loyalty framed as civic duty, applause mistaken for participation and proximity to power sold as political relevance.
Perhaps the most troubling aspect of the City Boy Movement is how it reinforces Nigeria’s long-standing culture of political patronage. By attracting celebrities, influencers and politically connected figures into its ranks, it sends a clear signal that visibility and access matter more than ideas or competence. Youth politics, once again, is reduced to branding, rallies and slogans; not policy debates, accountability mechanisms or grassroots problem-solving.
This model does young Nigerians a disservice. It trains them not to interrogate governance but to defend it, regardless of outcomes. At a time when inflation, unemployment and insecurity are biting hard, a genuine youth movement should be asking uncomfortable questions of those in power. Instead, the City Boy Movement often appears more invested in explaining away policy failures than in amplifying the real anxieties of ordinary citizens.
There is also the issue of internal coherence and credibility. Reports of factional disputes within the movement expose the fragility of organisations built primarily around personalities rather than principles. When loyalty to a political figure is the glue holding a movement together, cracks are inevitable, the moment interests diverge. This is not the foundation of a sustainable civic platform; it is the architecture of a temporary political project.
Defenders of the City Boy Movement argue that engagement with power is better than apathy. That argument misses the point. Engagement without independence is not empowerment; it is co-option. Nigerian youths do not need more vehicles for elite messaging. They need platforms that can pressure governments, shape alternative ideas and mobilise citizens across party lines in defence of the public good.
If the City Boy Movement truly seeks relevance beyond propaganda, it must confront an uncomfortable truth: it cannot be both a loyal political support group and a credible civic movement. One role cancels out the other. Until it chooses autonomy over access and principle over proximity, it will remain what many Nigerians already suspect — not a youth movement, but a polished extension of Nigeria’s old political machinery.
In the end, the tragedy of the City Boy Movement is not that it exists, but that it represents another missed opportunity. Nigeria’s youth deserve more than recycled politics in youthful packaging. They deserve movements that challenge power, not choreograph applause for it.
