Saturday, December 6, 2025

Renewed Hope Or Renewed Hypocrisy: Tinubu’s Risky Politics Of Redemption

 By Emmanuel Aziken

At a time President Bola Tinubu has chosen to nominate some of Nigeria’s most controversial personalities as ambassadors to represent the country abroad, the emergence of his so-called Renewed Hope Ambassadors—appointed to canvass support for his second-term aspiration—has shaken the polity in a manner that many did not expect but which, perhaps, should no longer surprise anyone observing the curious evolution of our political culture.

*Tinubu and Omokri 

 The inclusion of figures like Mr. Reno Omokri, whose pre-election stance painted Tinubu with every negative virtue that should not be associated with a leader, did not completely shock Nigerians. After all, before Omokri, the president had already appointed Dr. Daniel Bwala as Special Adviser, a man who only a year earlier emphatically declared that “even if you give Tinubu 30 years, nothing will work.” With such examples, it has become increasingly clear that Tinubu’s political instincts lean heavily toward embracing, rehabilitating, and strategically deploying his most ferocious critics.

In fact, Omokri—who has built a career around shifting positions and aligning with whichever political personality best suits his momentary ideological posture—wasted no time in praising Tinubu for what he described as a remarkable spirit of forgiveness. But what unsettled many Christians was not merely Omokri’s gratitude; it was his attempt to elevate Tinubu to a spiritual pedestal. In a post on X thanking the president for overlooking his previous attacks, Omokri went as far as saying, “In short, Christlikeness is demonstrated in him.”

Such effusive praise from a man once hailed as a pastor and admired for his passionate advocacy for Leah Sharibu, at a time the APC government appeared unbothered about her plight, struck many observers as not only excessive but deeply ironic.

Omokri’s sudden rehabilitation mirrors that of another former virulent critic, Chief Femi Fani-Kayode. In the heat of the 2015 election campaign, after Fani-Kayode alleged a plot by Tinubu to edge out Professor Yemi Osinbajo after the election, Tinubu responded through his then media adviser, Sunday Dare, describing Fani-Kayode in scathing terms.

“Fani-Kayode is not as smart as he thinks,” the statement read. “If you read between the lines of his hysteria, you see another extreme sentiment: that of surging desperation. That FFK is the best the ruling party (PDP) can do as a spokesman speaks volumes about the PDP.” Tinubu went further, declaring that the PDP at that time was “bereft of talent and character… filled with lies and chicanery,” and that Fani-Kayode was merely “the worst and most outspoken of a bad lot.”

Yet, the same Tinubu is now positioning this same Fani-Kayode—once dismissed as emblematic of political decadence—as a worthy representative of Nigeria abroad. For many Nigerians, the irony is staggering, and the message it sends about the criteria for public service is deeply troubling.

The list of ambassadorial nominees Tinubu has assembled at a moment when Nigeria urgently needs its brightest minds and most credible faces to salvage its damaged international reputation is, to put it mildly, astonishing. Jokes have circulated that Fani-Kayode could be sent to represent Nigeria in the State of Palestine—a reflection of the widespread disbelief that followed the publication of the list.

History offers cautionary tales for moments like this. In 1937, U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt appointed Joseph Kennedy—one of America’s wealthiest men—to serve as Ambassador to the United Kingdom, one of the most prestigious appointments in diplomatic history.

Kennedy, father of future President John F. Kennedy, turned the posting into a diplomatic misadventure by openly expressing isolationist sentiments and suggesting that Britain could not survive the might of Nazi Germany, thereby undermining Western morale at a crucial moment. His missteps forced him to resign in 1940, a departure that helped pave the way for a stronger Anglo-American alliance that eventually contributed to the defeat of the Axis powers.

 Kennedy’s Irish ancestry fueled long-standing suspicions that his cables to Washington were influenced by ethnic grievances toward Britain. His example serves as a reminder that personal histories and prejudices can distort national service in dangerous ways.

It is against this backdrop that many Nigerians now question the suitability of figures like Omokri—who only weeks ago was advancing paranoid narratives that unfairly targeted the Igbo. His acerbic anti-Igbo hypotheses embarrassed many, including this writer, especially as he now represents Delta State on the ambassadorial list. The question naturally arises: Will Ambassador Omokri treat the Igbo abroad the same way Ambassador Kennedy treated the English—through the prism of his personal prejudices?

Meanwhile, President Tinubu’s political machinery has also unveiled another category of emissaries—the Renewed Hope Ambassadors appointed to disseminate the achievements of his government. Earlier this week, each of these ambassadors was handed a Toyota Land Cruiser, a Hilux, and a Hummer bus. Critics such as Peter Obi argue that the administration has effectively launched its 2027 campaign, even as insecurity ravages the nation and hundreds of citizens, including schoolchildren, remain in the custody of kidnappers.

The optics were undeniably poor. Tinubu’s spokesperson, Bayo Onanuga, attempted to downplay the development by insisting that these were not campaign agents but citizens enthusiastic about publicising the government’s achievements. Few Nigerians found the explanation convincing.

What particularly troubled this correspondent was the symbolic contradiction embedded in the entire affair. For a government that only recently introduced a Buy Nigeria First policy, the deployment of Japanese-made vehicles to “renew the hope” of Nigerians was a disappointing lapse in judgment. It betrayed a lack of confidence in the very industrial policies the administration claims to promote.

In the end, the Tinubu ambassadorial experiment raises serious questions—about values, about sincerity, and about whether political reward has finally outrun national interest.

*Aziken is a commentator on public issues

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