Taking the Bullet, or Shooting Nigerians With Economic Hardship?
By Matthew Eloyi
Bayo Onanuga’s recent article, “Bola Tinubu: the man who took the bullet for Nigeria to survive,” reads less like a serious political commentary and more like an extended public relations brochure written to rescue a struggling administration from mounting public frustration.
It is understandable that a presidential spokesman would defend his principal. That is his job. But when propaganda begins to replace reality, citizens have a duty to push back.
The greatest weakness of Onanuga’s essay is its dangerous assumption that economic statistics alone define national progress. Throughout the article, Nigerians are bombarded with figures about stock market capitalisation, rising state allocations, infrastructure projects, and investor confidence. Yet nowhere does the writer seriously confront the devastating human consequences of the policies he praises so enthusiastically.
Governments do not exist to impress financial analysts. They exist to improve the lives of ordinary people.
Three years into the Tinubu administration, millions of Nigerians are poorer, angrier, and more insecure than they were in 2023. This is not opposition propaganda. It is daily reality.
Onanuga dismisses complaints about hunger by claiming critics have produced “no empirical proof.” That statement alone reveals how disconnected the political elite have become from the suffering around them. Nigerians do not need academic journals to confirm hunger. They experience it every day in markets, kitchens, transport parks, and homes.
The cost of food has become unbearable for ordinary workers. A bag of rice that once fed families comfortably has become a luxury item. Transport fares have skyrocketed following fuel subsidy removal. Electricity tariffs continue to rise despite epileptic power supply. Small businesses are shutting down under crushing operational costs. Young graduates roam the streets jobless while government officials speak triumphantly about stock market gains.
What exactly is the average Nigerian celebrating?
Onanuga repeatedly describes President Tinubu as a courageous reformer who “took the bullet” for Nigeria. But this romantic framing ignores a crucial question: who has truly absorbed the pain of these reforms?
Certainly not politicians. Certainly not political appointees. Certainly not those flying private jets while preaching sacrifice to citizens.
The bullets of economic hardship have been borne almost entirely by ordinary Nigerians (market women, civil servants, artisans, students, pensioners, and unemployed youths).
The administration removed fuel subsidy without sufficient social protection mechanisms. It floated the naira in an economy heavily dependent on imports without first strengthening local production. The predictable outcome was inflation, currency collapse, rising poverty, and widespread economic anxiety.
Economic reforms are not inherently bad. But reforms implemented without planning, cushioning, or empathy become punishment.
The article also attempts to portray increased federal allocations to states as evidence of Tinubu’s brilliance. Yet Nigerians are asking an obvious question: if states are now receiving far more money, why has life not improved proportionately for citizens?
In many states, workers are still poorly paid. Rural communities remain abandoned. Public schools remain dilapidated. Hospitals still lack equipment and personnel. Corruption at subnational levels continues almost unchecked. Increased allocations mean little without accountability.
Infrastructure remains another favorite talking point of government defenders. Nigerians are repeatedly told to applaud mega-road projects stretching across the country. But infrastructure announcements have become the easiest tool for political image-making in Nigeria. The real issue is not groundbreaking ceremonies or impressive computer animations. The real issue is transparency, value for money, and whether these projects reflect the most urgent needs of the people.
At a time when millions are battling hunger and insecurity, many Nigerians understandably question the priorities of an administration investing heavily in prestige projects while social welfare remains grossly inadequate.
On security, the article admits things are “not rosy,” but quickly retreats into familiar official language about military operations and foreign support. Yet Nigerians continue to die in alarming numbers from terrorism, banditry, kidnappings, and communal violence. Entire communities still live in fear. Farmers are afraid to return to their lands. Highways remain dangerous. The country is exhausted by condolences without lasting solutions.
Perhaps the most troubling part of Onanuga’s article is its contemptuous dismissal of criticism itself. Every critic is framed as an opposition propagandist or enemy of progress. This is unhealthy for democracy. Patriotism does not mean silence. Citizens have every right to question policies that directly affect their survival.
A government secure in its performance should welcome scrutiny, not demonise dissent.
No serious observer denies that Nigeria faced deep structural problems before Tinubu assumed office. But acknowledging inherited problems cannot become a permanent excuse for present failures. Leadership is ultimately judged by outcomes, not explanations.
The administration’s defenders point to foreign investor confidence and international applause. But Nigerians cannot eat investor sentiment. They cannot cook market capitalisation. They cannot feed their children with glowing IMF compliments or speeches about fiscal reforms.
What matters is whether life is becoming more bearable for ordinary citizens. And for millions of Nigerians today, the answer remains painfully clear.
The true measure of leadership is not how eloquently government spokesmen defend power. It is whether citizens can genuinely feel hope returning to their daily lives. For now, many Nigerians are still waiting.