If you have ever wondered why President Bola Ahmed Tinubu seems to run a political orphanage for Nigeria’s most “misunderstood,” “unappreciated,” and—let’s be honest—publicly tainted political characters, wonder no more. The evidence is in plain sight: The president needs their company more than he needs the rest of us.
Just consider the ever-evolving, always entertaining cast list: Nyesom Wike, Dele Alake, Bayo Onanuga, Joe Igbokwe, Daniel Bwala, Reno Omokri, Femi Fani-Kayode, Mahmud Yakubu… It’s like the Avengers—only this time every hero has questionable backstories, unresolved scandals, and a reserved seat at the Presidential dining table.
These men have one thing in common: fierce, unblinking loyalty to the president—the kind of loyalty that doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t check the price tag, and certainly doesn’t care how the wider Nigerian public rates their character.
They have discovered the most important political secret of our time: public perception cannot cook soup. Loyalty to the throne, however, can refill your pantry. Generously.
President Tinubu, to his credit, has a remarkable gift—almost supernatural—of attracting men who have run out of political capital. Think of him as a magnet for fallen angels, except these angels have traded their harps for ministerial and presidential positions, microphone stands, television appearances, and social media tirades. And why does he gather them? Simple.
1. Everyone Loves Company – Including Wrongdoers
People say birds of a feather flock together. But in politics, it’s more like vultures circle the same carcass. Those who have mastered the fine art of political mischief prefer to surround themselves with those skilled in the same or allied craft. It’s easier on the conscience. After all, if everyone around you is morally ambiguous, suddenly you don’t look so bad. Psychologists call it validation.
President Tinubu doesn’t just gather these characters—he carefully nurtures them. He gives them spaces where their reputations can be harnessed, rehabilitated, or forgotten—whichever they choose. And in return, they give him something invaluable: a choir of unwavering, uncritical praise singers who will defend him even against logic, evidence, good conscience, and electricity bills. The attraction is mutual.
2. Fierce Loyalty—Forged in the Fire of Public Embarrassment
Tinubu usually waits until they are down to zero. When their names are battered, when their fan bases have shrunk, when their political accounts are overdrawn—that is when the president steps in like a benevolent landlord offering a room at half rent—or even free.
Recall the story told recently by Olisa Metuh, a one-time PDP chieftain who fell into hard times after the Jonathan days. He was prosecuted, persecuted and literally left for dead by the Buhari presidency. Then, in the pit of despair, Tinubu sent Femi Gbajabiamila (the president’s Chief of Staff) to his rescue. Metuh has since dumped PDP for APC. Now, he tells anyone who cares to listen that “PDP abandoned me” and Tinubu is a savior from heaven. That’s the power of a well-timed, rehabilitation package. Don’t ask me what was in that package.
There is also the oft-told story of the Nobel laureate, Prof. Wole Soyinka. It is said that Tinubu and his dutiful wife, Senator Remi, once bought “kitchen utensils” to help the literary guru back on his feet. I’ll let you fill in the gaps about other items delivered with the cooking utensils.
And because he rescued them at their lowest, the gratitude becomes permanent—well, almost. These men see him as some sort of messiah. They cling to him the way a drowning man would cling to a straw—because, let’s be honest, there was little else to cling to. And personal survival (aka “stomach infrastructure”) evokes stronger allegiances than patriotism and self-respect.
They become unrepentantly loyal. And why not? Friends have deserted them. Fortune has taken a flight. The public has “blocked” them. Only one man keeps their phones ringing.
3. They Make Excellent Political Shock Absorbers
While you and I are busy watching Wike’s dramatic monologues, or Onanuga’s late-night social media declarations, or FFK’s Shakespearean political soliloquies, or Omokri’s mockery of decency, do you know who we aren’t watching? The president.
Tinubu uses his loyal warriors as cannon fodder, and brilliantly so. They draw fire, absorb public outrage, and keep the spotlight conveniently rotating among themselves like a political disco ball. Meanwhile, the main man gets the peace and quiet he needs to plan his next strategic move—or nap. Either way, he’s not under as much pressure as he truly deserves.
So Before You Complain…
Before you wonder why Wike still has a job, despite his many “field experiments” in public provocation…
Before you gasp that the latest ambassadorial list has more “question marks” than a student guessing in a JAMB examination…
Before you lament the reappearance of men like Mahmud Yakubu whose reputations should have earned them retirement in Sambisa or Siberia long ago…
Relax. These men earn their positions. They are not decorations; they are functional gadgets of political machinery. The president knows exactly what he is doing. And he makes no apologies.
As Lere Olayinka (media aide to FCT Minister, Nyesom Wike,) wisely remarked recently, “When it is your turn, you can choose to travel with your enemies.”
Until then, this is Tinubu’s bus. The driver is a genius, the conductor is loyal, the passengers are grateful, and the journey—well, let’s just say it promises to be eventful.
Those who have managed to get a seat on the bus would do well to follow safety protocols—fasten their seatbelts. And those watching the show from the roadside should keep a safe distance and say their prayers…
In the end, every Nigerian has a vested interest in the safe arrival of this bus— whether or not they like the driver and his passengers.
Victor Anazonwu, an author and public affairs commentator, writes from Lagos.
