In a country where symbolism often trumps substance, Nigeria seems to have perfected the art of celebrating failure. The latest curiosity is how President Bola Ahmed Tinubu — widely regarded by many Nigerians as the worst performing president in our democratic history — has somehow managed to accumulate an unprecedented number of public assets, roads, stadiums, and landmarks named after him in less than one term.
When Tinubu assumed office in 2023, hopes were cautiously high. But those hopes evaporated quickly. Within his first year, Nigeria’s inflation soared to 33.95%, a 28-year high. The naira crashed to a record ₦1,500 per dollar, and petrol prices ballooned past ₦700 per litre after subsidy removal — pushing millions into deeper poverty. The World Bank estimated that 104 million Nigerians are now living below the poverty line, a shocking jump from around 89 million in 2022.
Instead of prioritizing job creation or rebuilding a battered middle class, what we got was an endless parade of elite pageantry: foreign trips, lavish parties, private jet convoys, and multi-million-naira wristwatches flaunted by public officials. Basic services like electricity remain erratic, universities are underfunded, doctors are leaving en masse, and security challenges are worse than ever.
Yet, across the nation, stadiums, highways, conference centers, and bridges are hurriedly renamed after Tinubu as if this were a royal coronation. In Abuja alone, the International Conference Centre was recently renamed Bola Ahmed Tinubu International Conference Centre after being wrestled from private hands — allegedly to “honor leadership.” In Lagos, there are talks of renaming even more public infrastructure, despite residents groaning under suffocating taxes and collapsing public amenities.
It begs the question: What exactly are we celebrating? A presidency that has overseen a collapsing currency? Or a government whose so-called economic reforms have left shops empty and stomachs hollow? The Economic Intelligence Unit and Fitch Ratings have downgraded Nigeria’s economic outlook repeatedly since Tinubu took office, citing poor policy coordination and rising debt, which now stands above ₦97 trillion.
This desperate rush to immortalize Tinubu in concrete and marble reveals a deep dysfunction in Nigeria’s political psychology: a society so traumatized that it mistakes transactional politics and power consolidation for visionary leadership. In a sane society, monuments are built for leaders who lifted millions out of poverty, revolutionized public services, or united a divided country. But here, they are used to massage egos and rewrite history before our very eyes.
Meanwhile, the man himself basks in orchestrated applause as his loyalists push for a second term, undeterred by the cries from the streets and markets. Prices of basic goods — rice at ₦80,000 per bag, tomatoes at ₦1,500 per small basket — have forced many families to skip meals. Yet, “Tinubu Flyover,” “Tinubu Stadium,” and “Tinubu Park” keep sprouting up like weeds.
At the heart of it all lies a painful irony: the louder the suffering, the more statues they erect. This is a country where powerful elites think that plastering a name on concrete can erase record-breaking inflation, joblessness, and hunger.
We must ask: is this really leadership worth immortalizing, or are we simply normalizing mediocrity and institutional gaslighting? How did a leader presiding over such widespread hardship manage to become a brand name plastered across the country in record time?
If this is the bar, then every leader with dismal performance can simply commission more signboards and rename public assets as a shortcut to “legacy.” We are left to wonder what future generations will think when they ask why bridges and airports carry the name of a man under whom poverty deepened and despair thickened.
As we inch toward 2027, one question haunts the soul of Nigeria: how much longer will we allow propaganda to bury performance? Will we keep clapping for symbolic honors while our real needs remain ignored?
For now, it appears our leaders have discovered a magical formula: fail forward, rename everything in your honor, and watch the nation dance. But the rest of us must decide if we want to keep living in a monument to our own collective amnesia — or finally demand leadership worth etching in stone.
