First, a few necessary disclosures about one of the subjects of this reflection, the Rt. Hon. Yakubu Dogara. We have shared the bonds of friendship for over thirty-six years, having once walked the same academic corridors at the University of Jos, where we both studied law, and later at the Nigerian Law School, Lagos. Ours has been a long, evolving friendship, enriched not merely by time, but by the quality of thoughts exchanged over the years. In this digital age, with the internet collapsing distance and instant messaging enabling the flow of ideas at the speed of thought, we have often found ourselves engaged in private, sometimes spirited, intellectual conversations on subjects both urgent and discursive.

Given the foregoing, and in keeping with the tradition of frank and thoughtful engagement we have long upheld in private, it is only fitting to subject his recent public remarks to similar scrutiny. However, on this occasion, I venture to do so in the open. At the 65th birthday celebration of Archbishop John Praise, Dogara’s words, which carried the soft cadence of wisdom to some ears, invite a closer listening. According to media reports, he declared: “The president can win by the power of his example, not by the example of his power, to say that I’m forcing myself because I have my hands on the levers of the coercive apparatus of the state. No, but he should win on account that he has done very well and that a lot of people in this country support him.”

There is, within these remarks, a noble echo of classical republican virtue – that legitimacy flows not from force, but from the voluntary acclaim of the governed. Yet, as with all ideas expressed in the public square, it merits a deeper inquiry beyond the polished surface of its phrasing.

His remarks are beautiful. But they conceal as much as they reveal. They are a misreading of the idea he tries to express. Worse, he assumes that President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, whose government has buried our citizens deeper into sufferings, has a legitimate claim to the power of example.

Let me begin with the philosophical foundation of the idea Dogara tried to invoke. The phrase “power of example” is older than modern politics. It is rooted in the thinking of classical philosophers. Plutarch, the Greek moralist, warned that leaders are judged not by what they compel others to do but by what they inspire them to become. In his book, Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans, he detailed how leaders used personal virtue to shape society. 

The 18th-century philosopher Immanuel Kant insisted that moral authority springs from universal duty, or the categorical imperative. Leaders, for Kant, are obligated to act in ways that they can will others to imitate. The power of example, in this sense, is moral clarity made public. The renowned 20th-century German-American scholar, Hannah Arendt, cautioned that power is not force. Real power, she argued, arises from collective agreement, not coercive control. When power becomes the monopoly of the state’s instruments, it ceases to be power and becomes mere violence.

So, when Dogara says that the president “should win on account that he has done very well,” the question is not just empirical. It is ethical. Has Tinubu led in a way that others can be called to imitate? Dogara made a critical mistake. He inverted the moral order. He treated the “power of example” as a rhetorical style, not a lived substance. In reality, what our fellow citizens experience daily, which he admitted, is not the power of example. It is the raw example of power.

Tinubu’s presidency, thus far, has not offered inspiration. It has offered intimidation. His first year in office has been a painful continuation of everything citizens feared about strongman politics. Fuel subsidies were removed without a plan. The Naira crashed. Inflation climbed. Hunger stalks the land. Public universities remain fragile. Hospitals lack the most basic resources. Young people are fleeing the country in waves. Yet, Tinubu travels with bloated entourages and presides over a government soaked in ostentation. This is not the power of example. This is the example of power, without vision, control without compassion.

Dogara’s remarks tried to separate Tinubu from coercive power. He said: “Not by the example of his power, to say that I’m forcing myself because I have my hands on the levers of the coercive apparatus of the state.” Yet, this is precisely what has begun to happen. The President has filled the Independent National Electoral Commission with loyalists. The judiciary is increasingly compromised. Governors and legislators are made to bow at the altar of Bourdillon or be humiliated. Dogara’s language absolves Tinubu too quickly. He paints him as a man who merely could use coercion, rather than one who is already doing so.

Let me be clear. Our country cannot afford more of Tinubu. The 2023 election was a mirage. 2027 must be a reckoning. First, Tinubu has no coherent vision. His “Renewed Hope” agenda is a slogan, not a strategy. His economic reforms are haphazard. There is no long-term investment in public infrastructure. No credible plan to reform education. No urgency about health care. No interest in creating real jobs. Second, his style of governance is steeped in nepotism and patronage. 

Appointments are made on the basis of loyalty, not competence. Ministers lack direction. Government agencies operate like fiefdoms. Third, he is disconnected from the sufferings of ordinary citizens. How can a leader who has not addressed the soaring cost of living, who has not curbed the dollarisation of our economy, who has said nothing meaningful about the kidnapping of schoolchildren or the slaughter of farmers, be said to wield the “power of example”? 

Fourth, Tinubu lacks democratic humility. He has not shown respect for dissent. He avoids the media. He does not speak to the people. He hides behind proxies and spin doctors. He governs like a man who believes the presidency is his entitlement, not a trust. Fifth, and finally, Tinubu’s politics is anchored in the past. He is the godfather of a political machine that has corrupted Lagos and now seeks to extend that corruption nationally. Our country cannot afford to be governed as Lagos has been: where a few men own everything and millions struggle for scraps.

What Dogara’s remarks ultimately reveal is a deeper problem: the bankruptcy of our political imagination. We have allowed the office of the president to become too powerful, too insulated, too deified. Instead of demanding leadership anchored in moral clarity, we praise politicians for not using the “coercive apparatus of the state” as if that is virtue. But not using the whip is not the same as leading the herd. A president should lead by vision, by sacrifice, by service. He should be the first to tighten his belt, the first to forgo perks, the first to walk among the people. This is what the power of example truly means. Not polished speeches. Not symbolic gestures. But the hard, consistent practice of humility and justice.

Our country does not need another messiah. We have had too many of those. What we need is a servant-leader. Someone who sees the presidency not as a personal prize but a burden. Someone whose wealth is not mysterious. Someone whose record is clean. Someone who listens, who consults, who learns. We need a president who is not afraid to lose power if doing so preserves integrity. One who would rather do what is right and be voted out than do what is popular and win.

We need a president who lives modestly, speaks plainly, and acts justly.

In 2027, citizens must ask themselves: who among the contenders reflects these values? Who shows not just competence, but character? Tinubu has had his chance. He has used it poorly. He should not be given another. Dogara’s remarks, though well-intended, confuse appearance for essence. It is not enough to say the right thing. One must also do the right thing. And when someone consistently does the wrong thing, no amount of oratory can rescue them.

Let citizens not be fooled by slogans. Let them not confuse the absence of tyranny with the presence of virtue. Let them not mistake cleverness for wisdom. Tinubu is not the example we need. And if our dear fatherland is to survive as a democratic republic, then 2027 must be the year we say, enough.

Our country deserves better. 

Citizens must demand a country that works.

Abdul Mahmud is a human rights attorney in Abuja