The burden of leadership: A people’s history of Nigeria’s presidents

Nigeria’s post-independence journey is a story of hope, struggle and resilience, written in the actions of its leaders and the reactions of its people. From the exuberance of October 1, 1960, when the green-white-green flag was hoisted in place of the Union Jack, to the modern era of economic uncertainties and political tensions, Nigeria’s leadership […]

Nigeria’s post-independence journey is a story of hope, struggle and resilience, written in the actions of its leaders and the reactions of its people. From the exuberance of October 1, 1960, when the green-white-green flag was hoisted in place of the Union Jack, to the modern era of economic uncertainties and political tensions, Nigeria’s leadership has been both the architect of progress and the culprit of setbacks.

The road to independence was paved with idealism, as the likes of Nnamdi Azikiwe, Obafemi Awolowo and Ahmadu Bello envisioned a Nigeria that would take its place among the world’s great nations. But leadership in a country of over 250 ethnic groups was never going to be simple. The euphoria of freedom quickly gave way to bitter political rivalries, and by 1966, the first military coup shattered the young republic’s democratic dream. From that moment on, Nigeria became a country whose fate was determined more by generals than by elected representatives.

The cycles of military takeovers and civilian restorations shaped Nigeria’s political DNA. Shehu Shagari’s election in 1979 was supposed to mark a return to democracy, but his administration struggled under the weight of economic downturns.

The Ajaokuta Steel Mill, a symbol of industrial ambition, became a metaphor for Nigeria itself filled with potential but stalled by mismanagement and corruption. People stood in long queues for essential commodities, inflation soared, and by 1983, the military struck again, this time with Major General Muhammadu Buhari at the helm.

Buhari’s regime was a cold, unyielding force. The War Against Indiscipline saw Nigerians whipped in public for lateness, street traders’ goods confiscated without warning, and journalists jailed for dissent. The streets of Lagos and Kano, once bustling with informal markets, were subdued by fear. While some applauded the crackdown on corruption, many found the iron-fisted approach suffocating. It was not long before General Ibrahim Babangida overthrew Buhari in 1985, bringing with him promises of economic revival.

Babangida’s Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP) sounded good on paper free-market policies, foreign investments, a reduced role of government in business. But in reality, it sent the naira into a downward spiral. Ordinary Nigerians felt the sting: a bag of rice that once cost N20 now cost over N100. University students, who had once enjoyed meal subsidies, watched as tuition fees crept up. The phrase “SAP is killing us” became a rallying cry on the streets.

Then came Sani Abacha, a man whose name still invokes shudders. He ruled with brute force, silencing opposition with assassinations and imprisonments. But paradoxically, while he ruled with terror, the economy flourished under his watch. Foreign reserves swelled, inflation plummeted, and roads were built. Civil servants, for the first time in years, were paid on time. But these economic gains came at an unbearable cost activists like Ken Saro-Wiwa were executed, and media houses were shut down. It was a time of fear, where even casual criticism of the government could lead to a knock on the door at midnight.

Abacha’s sudden death in 1998 felt like an unshackling. General Abdulsalami Abubakar moved quickly to transition Nigeria back to democracy, paving the way for Olusegun Obasanjo’s election in 1999. Obasanjo came back like a man with unfinished business. His economic reforms were bold privatisation, banking sector consolidation, and aggressive foreign debt relief campaigns. The National Economic Empowerment and Development Strategy (NEEDS) was launched to lift millions out of poverty. Under his leadership, Nigeria’s reputation in global diplomacy soared. But corruption scandals and the controversial attempt at a third-term bid in 2006 tainted his legacy.

When Umaru Musa Yar’Adua took over in 2007, his Seven-Point Agenda showed promise. He was methodical, prioritising the rule of law, Niger Delta peace initiatives, and power sector reforms. But illness made him a shadowy figure, barely seen in public. While Nigerians prayed for his recovery, a power struggle brewed behind the scenes. His death in 2010 left the country in uncertainty, and his vice president, Goodluck Jonathan, took the reins.

Jonathan’s presidency was a paradox marked by economic growth, yet weakened by insecurity. Boko Haram bombings turned markets, churches, and schools into killing fields. The abduction of over 200 Chibok girls in 2014 was a moment of national heartbreak, one that exposed the government’s inability to secure its people. Yet, under him, Nigeria became Africa’s largest economy, and his concession of defeat in 2015 set a new democratic precedent.

When Muhammadu Buhari returned in 2015, it was with the image of a disciplined leader ready to fix Nigeria’s woes. His fight against corruption saw high-profile arrests, and the National Social Investment Programme attempted to lift the poor. But economic recessions, rising unemployment, and worsening insecurity dimmed his once-admired reputation. Farmers abandoned their lands due to banditry, the naira lost its value, and fuel prices skyrocketed.

Bola Tinubu’s presidency, beginning in 2023, arrived with high expectations and swift economic reforms. The removal of petrol subsidies was supposed to stabilise the economy, but it unleashed a cost-of-living crisis. Suddenly, transport fares tripled overnight, food prices doubled, and businesses struggled to stay afloat. In Lagos, traders who once moved goods with ease now watched helplessly as transportation costs ate into their profits. Tinubu’s administration sought to cushion the effects, promoting natural gas as an alternative fuel source, but the people remained skeptical.

Nigeria’s leadership history is a mirror reflecting the nation’s struggles, resilience, and aspirations. It is a history of grand visions and failed promises, of bold reforms and crushing disappointments. It is the story of leaders who shaped the nation, sometimes lifting it, sometimes burdening it.

But the real story of Nigeria is not just about its presidents. It is about the people the market woman in Onitsha, the okada rider in Ibadan, the teacher in Jos, the student in Zaria who wake up every day and push forward, despite the odds. The president may sit at the helm, but the fate of the nation is carried on the shoulders of its citizens. And as history has shown, they are the ones who will always have the final say.

 

Shaakaa works at the University of Agriculture, Makurdi