In his recent interview with The Punch, activist and publisher Omoyele Sowore launched a characteristically scathing attack on former President Muhammadu Buhari, alleging that he “served himself, not Nigeria.” While criticism is a vital element of democracy, it must be grounded in truth, not personal vendetta or selective amnesia. Sowore’s comments, though dramatic, are riddled with exaggerations, half-truths, and glaring factual errors that deserve to be clarified in the interest of public record.
To begin with, Sowore’s assertion that Buhari used Nigeria to “prolong his life while shortening the lives of millions” is not only sensational but morally irresponsible. Yes, Buhari traveled abroad multiple times for medical reasons—a fact that has drawn understandable public criticism. But to claim that these trips somehow shortened the lives of millions is an outrageous stretch. The nation’s poor healthcare system predates Buhari and is a structural problem that even administrations before his failed to address. There is no evidence—statistical or circumstantial—that Buhari’s personal medical treatment led to increased mortality among Nigerians. To suggest otherwise is to exploit suffering for political capital.
Sowore also paints Buhari as a man who betrayed public trust and left Nigeria worse than he met it. Here again, the facts are more nuanced than the fiery rhetoric suggests. Buhari inherited a nation on the brink—crippled by oil price crashes, riddled with Boko Haram terrorism, and drowning in institutional corruption. While his administration did not solve all these problems, it took critical steps in certain areas. Under Buhari, the EFCC secured over 600 convictions on corruption-related cases. Billions of naira were recovered from looted funds. While critics argue about the selectiveness of these efforts, they are far from “nothing.”
On the democratic front, Buhari’s legacy is more progressive than many give him credit for. He became the first opposition candidate in Nigeria’s history to defeat a sitting president in a peaceful election in 2015. He handed over power in 2023 without manipulating the system to extend his tenure—no third term maneuver, no constitutional tinkering. Even in his flawed war against corruption, Buhari publicly declared his assets and urged others in government to follow suit. These may not be revolutionary acts, but they are not the actions of a man solely out for himself.
Sowore further criticizes Buhari for making “misleading” statements about the price of oil under previous administrations. In one speech, Buhari had claimed that oil averaged $100 per barrel from 1999 to 2014, a figure Sowore rightly pointed out as inaccurate. Indeed, fact-checkers have confirmed that the average was closer to $62. But to use this slip to invalidate the entirety of Buhari’s economic criticisms of past governments is dishonest. Misquoting a price average is not the same as mismanaging the economy or looting public funds—sins that characterized many pre-Buhari administrations.
Then there’s the charge that Buhari failed to improve Nigeria’s healthcare system or build a world-class hospital in eight years. That, unfortunately, is a fair critique. Buhari promised much in this area and delivered little. Yet this failure does not equate to deliberate sabotage. Unlike his predecessors who had excess oil revenue, Buhari governed for much of his tenure in a constrained fiscal environment, including two recessions, a global pandemic, and spiraling insecurity. Expectations were high; outcomes were mixed. That is not an excuse, but it is context—something Sowore conveniently ignores.
Moreover, it is necessary to consider the messenger. Omoyele Sowore is not a dispassionate observer. He is a politician, a serial protester, and a former presidential candidate who was arrested and charged with treason under Buhari’s government. His experience with state repression understandably colors his perception. But personal grievance, however justified, should not be disguised as national consensus. Nigeria’s history cannot be reduced to the prism of Sowore’s anger.
Indeed, Sowore’s approach to Buhari seems less like objective criticism and more like a personal crusade. By portraying Buhari as an irredeemable villain, he erases the complexity of a man who, despite his flaws, presided over Nigeria at one of its most difficult junctures. He neglects to mention Buhari’s decision to honor MKO Abiola with a posthumous GCFR title and declare June 12 as Democracy Day—a symbolic but long-overdue gesture of national healing. He forgets that under Buhari, Nigeria closed its land borders to stem the flow of illegal arms and protect local industries, an act of economic nationalism that had both costs and benefits.
To be clear, Buhari’s presidency was not without significant failings: rising poverty, growing insecurity in the North-West and Middle Belt, and his administration’s aloof posture on critical national debates. But these failures are not evidence of self-interest—they are symptoms of deep structural and institutional dysfunctions that no president, acting alone, can fix in eight years.
In sum, Sowore’s interview was heavy on drama but light on facts. His portrayal of Buhari as a selfish autocrat is simplistic, ahistorical, and fails to account for the complexities of leadership in a country like Nigeria. History may not judge Buhari as a transformational leader, but neither will it accept this caricature of him as a man who did nothing for his country.
We owe it to the truth—and to the Nigerian people—to keep the conversation critical, but fair.
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