By Thomas Danjuma Abu
Leadership is not a title; it is a moral covenant, a solemn contract with the collective conscience of society. Long before formal education, I knew the faces of national figures—Yakubu Gowon, Muhammadu Buhari, Nnamdi Azikiwe, and Murtala Mohammed. Their portraits were not mere decor; they were embodiments of integrity, leaders whose words one could take to the bank. While these leaders were not flawless—human imperfection is universal—their actions and discourse largely reflected a guiding compass, an ethical rudder for society. They demonstrated that leadership is less about privilege and more about moral responsibility. As an African elder once warned, “The child who refuses to be corrected will break the world with his own hands.” Leadership is correction, guidance, and the careful tending of society’s future.
Contrast this with the theatre of contemporary politics, where statements are ephemeral, and denials are convenient. Some leaders say “A” in the morning and deny it by afternoon, even under irrefutable evidence. The recent Bwala episode on Al Jazeera illustrates the corrosion of accountability. Pragmatic examples abound: Tinubu and his people reportedly created Militia-Bwala on 23rd January 2023—but by 6th March 2026, he denied it, etc. In modern politics, the microphone remembers everything, but the conscience frequently forgets. As the Yoruba proverb cautions, “Ẹni tí kò mọ itan, kò mọ àtúnṣe rẹ̀” — he who does not know history cannot appreciate correction. Leaders who deny documented actions or employ intimidation compromise the very foundation of trust that sustains governance. Leadership should never be a gymnastics of the tongue; truth is singular and cannot accommodate duplicity.
Leadership is not a profession—it is a moral burden. It is not a convenience, nor a feeding bottle; it is the compass by which society navigates chaos. As another elder observed, “A single tree cannot make a forest, but a crooked tree can spoil it.” One duplicitous leader can warp the values of generations who look up to them. In a digital age, where memory is archived and facts are immutable, credibility is fragile, and trust is priceless. A leader who oscillates between truths and falsehoods erodes faith, and when faith in leadership collapses, even the loudest voice becomes hollow. Integrity may inconvenience a leader briefly, but duplicity leaves a lifetime of disgrace.
African wisdom reminds us, “The tongue may slip, but character should never stumble.” Nigeria—and indeed any society—requires leaders whose words and actions are congruent, who anchor the moral ship even amidst societal tempests. He who disrespects the river will drown in it. Speak truth. Act with integrity. Lead for the people, not for personal preservation or gain. Let the Bwala episode serve as a stark reminder: reckless speech, duplicity, and denial are recorded by history—even if denied in the moment.
Leadership is not a playground for double-talk. Society deserves leaders who speak with clarity, act with accountability, and stand by their convictions. Anything less leaves only confusion, noise, and the bitter residue of two-faced politics.
The Contrast Is Clear: Past leaders, though imperfect, largely embodied principles that strengthened society and earned enduring trust. Modern leaders, by contrast, manipulate truth, deny responsibility, and weaponize fear. One generation builds a moral foundation; the other shakes it with duplicity. The choice for society is clear: uphold integrity or endure chaos.
Stop the two-faced politics. Demand true leadership.
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