Your Excellency, Mr. President,
I had hoped I would have the opportunity to meet you one-on-one for the first time since you approved my appointment as Special Adviser on Political Matters in the Office of the Vice President about 18 months ago. It would have afforded me an excellent opportunity to offer what might have been the only significant advice I could give you directly in return for the salary you paid me. I had also hoped that an audience with you would provide the chance to explain why I insist on resigning, despite efforts to dissuade me by the Vice President, some Ministers, key officials in your administration, and a host of people I hold in the highest esteem. Well, all that is now history.
Still, please allow me to thank you for approving my appointment and for the privilege of serving my country once again as a public officer. To be honest, for someone at 70 who did not campaign for you, is not a member of your party, and who had gained some reputation for sustained criticism of your APC predecessor’s eight years of deeply damaging governance, your approval that I should come on board gave the impression of a willingness to tolerate inclusiveness and diversity, as well as some regard for merit. I am particularly grateful to the Vice President, who went to great lengths to convince me that staying in place was a better option than resigning.
I must be honest in saying I had many misgivings about accepting the invitation in the first place. Your “Emi Lokan” mantra suggested to me a worrying desire to lead, driven mainly by the urge to satisfy personal ambition. I felt that after the Buhari misadventure—for which the country continues to pay a steep price—the last thing we needed was another leader driven purely by a personal quest for power. Many well-meaning people advised me that I would not fit into your administration for various reasons, the most common being that you might end up as Buhari 2.0—or worse—and I would shift from being a vocal critic to an active or silent collaborator.
It was tempting to sit it out and wait—either to critique you if you failed to provide the leadership the nation needs or commend you if you succeeded in turning the country around. In the end, I thought it better to help put out the fire than curse those who lit it. I joined your administration as an Adviser with my eyes wide open, at the cost of valuable relationships and under intense hostility from social media ‘politicians’ who assume every political appointee is in it for personal gain (read: lots of money, most of it stolen).
My long career in the federal public service taught me that the Office of the Presidency has a long-standing tradition of treating the Vice President’s office at best as a constitutional liability, and at worst, as a suspicious appendage constantly scheming to take the number one position. When you pushed the nation into the deep end with your inaugural announcement on subsidy removal, a few of us with experience in policy design and public administration knew the country would need the best hands to manage massive change and transition.
You inherited a badly damaged economy and a severely stressed population. Without a clear and sustained vision, and failing to translate the May 29 momentum into consistent leadership, your administration was bound to face turbulence. The idea of another four or eight years of poor governance after Buhari’s era was too alarming to contemplate. You needed some basic elements to succeed.
First, you needed a clear vision of your goals and the challenges you had to overcome. Unfortunately, it seemed you were too busy chasing political dominance, relying on your old Lagos circle to supplement a vision that was lacking. Your Renewed Hope Agenda is not a vision—it is a set of campaign promises, not a structured governance strategy worthy of your experience, however dated. You needed to appoint men and women who shared a compelling vision—not merely loyal party members and political jobbers. Your initial appointments reflected more politics than quality. Though there was some improvement later, the effort was tepid. As things stand, more than half your cabinet has no business managing an administration tasked with improving security, livelihoods, or public trust.
You needed to embody and uphold personal integrity, good health, and strong commitment to the demands of your office—hard work, fairness, and humility. Yet your closed-door style of leadership, your apparent indifference to complaints of ethnic bias in appointments, and the perception that you frequently run the country from abroad while attending to personal matters, have created the image of an isolated leader heading an insular administration.
Your inner and secondary circles do not reflect the discipline or inspiration necessary to transform Nigeria. Pandering to political interests at the expense of good governance has deprived you of the tools to make a greater impact. You needed to act as a democrat in a federal system—something even the best global leaders struggle with. It appears your experience in governing Lagos, playing the kingmaker, and resisting premature power grabs did not prepare you for the complex demands of national leadership—balancing self-interest with the challenges of inclusive governance and statesmanship.
You needed to create a balance between the past you wanted to reform and the future you hoped to shape. Instead, you’ve created a situation where citizens debate whether life under you is worse than under Buhari, or better only in economic jargon that doesn’t reflect their suffering. You needed to build a team driven by urgency, purpose, and a deep understanding of the scale of your mission—not one content with the routine and mediocrity inherited from the past. That team never materialised.
You needed a strong engagement strategy—one capable of building national consensus or at least neutralising hostility. Instead, you’ve appointed a crowd of spokespersons who often confuse rather than clarify your policies. You’ve ignored legitimate dissent, choosing instead to engineer a pliant legislature, thereby robbing the nation of robust democratic discourse. Your record on security and institutional reform is unimpressive.
These are harsh truths, Mr. President—but few will tell you even their diluted versions. Now your administration is being pushed toward prioritising the 2027 elections over governance. But improving governance, revisiting priorities, refining policies, instilling fiscal discipline, addressing grievances, combating insecurity and corruption, and fostering national unity should be your focus.
Two years is a long time—you can still achieve much. But if you shift attention now to electoral ambitions, you risk losing both governance momentum and public goodwill. If you win again without reforming your style and strategy, you may spend four more years preserving failure. If you lose, your legacy could be wiped out in an instant.
You hold what your opposition lacks: the power to reduce the harshness of life for the average Nigerian. Use it well. Watch 2027, yes—but don’t become consumed by it. The North is drifting from your leadership under the weight of economic hardship, insecurity, and alienation. The East remains politically disengaged, while the South-South is fragmented. The South West has been lukewarm, and its privileged position may become a burden. The North East is deeply wounded and can no longer be taken for granted.
Mr. President, I urge you to reflect deeply on the legacy you want to leave and how history will remember you. Insisting on running for a second term could be a grave mistake. Your name is already etched in Nigeria’s history. Use the time until 2027 to shape your legacy—not just extend your tenure.
Step aside—not for your opponents, but for a new generation of Nigerians who can carry the nation forward with fresh energy and ideas. Our generation has done its time. It would be a masterstroke if you and your party yielded the field to new voices and new leadership. That way, you could catalyse a peaceful, historic transformation and inspire a new political culture rooted in merit, unity, and progress.
Mr. President, these and a few more thoughts are what I would have offered you in person. You do not have the reputation of being overly conservative. I hope you still possess the fire to challenge the status quo. Perhaps, this is the role destiny has prepared for you.
I offer this advice with sincerity and hope—believing that one leader can change the course of a nation. That leader could be you. Many who’ve worked with you say you mean well for Nigeria. That’s why I ask, respectfully and firmly:
Mr. President, please do not run again in 2027.
Baba Ahmed was, until recently when he resigned, Presidential Adviser on Politucal Affairs, office of the Vice President
