President Tinubu’s tenure, barely halfway through its first term, is fast becoming a case study in how not to manage a nation in crisis. While his administration clings to a narrative of “bold reforms” and economic transformation, the actual indicators point to a country sliding further into dysfunction. But the true concern is not just about poor outcomes but about how multiple, interconnected crises are being mismanaged, ignored, or even exploited for political gain. What Nigeria faces today is a polycrisis, and the government’s inability or refusal to understand the nature of this complexity is pushing the country toward the edge of collapse.
A polycrisis is not merely the simultaneous occurrence of problems but when those problems intersect and amplify each other. In Nigeria’s case, economic instability, political disillusionment, insecurity, institutional decay, and social unrest are no longer isolated concerns. They are feeding off one another. For example, the naira’s freefall has compounded food inflation, which in turn is worsening urban and rural poverty. The policy decisions meant to address one crisis, such as the removal of fuel subsidies, have triggered ripple effects across every other domain, from transportation to school attendance to crime. Yet, instead of treating the situation with the seriousness it demands, Tinubu’s administration continues to deploy superficial fixes and PR-driven narratives.
A key failure of the current regime lies in its refusal to engage the crisis systemically. Tinubu’s economic policy, which is spearheaded by controversial monetary experiments and IMF-style deregulation, has not only failed to stabilize the economy but has worsened inequality. The forex liberalization, for instance, was executed without safeguards, which has allowed speculators and rent-seekers close to power to profit immensely, while ordinary citizens have witnessed their purchasing power eroded. The inflation rate, particularly food inflation, has spiked into unprecedented territory, and there is no coherent social protection policy in place to cushion the masses. Yet, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, the government insists that “the reforms are working.”
The currency situation alone should trigger national outrage. Across the world in 2024 and 2025, several currencies have significantly rebounded against the US dollar due to recovering global trade, stable monetary policies, and improved investor confidence. From Brazil to India, South Africa to Indonesia, even economies with structural challenges have seen their currencies stabilize or appreciate. Meanwhile, the Nigerian naira remains one of the worst-performing currencies globally. There has been no real confidence restored in Nigeria’s monetary system. Investors are fleeing, remittances are weakening, and capital inflow is sluggish. Tinubu’s economic managers have no credible answer for why the naira continues to collapse while peer economies are finding their footing. It is a damning indictment of this administration’s failure to lead or learn.
This is not merely dishonesty but a dangerous failure of governance. When a government gaslights its citizens in the middle of a polycrisis, it does not simply lose credibility. It loses the moral and strategic clarity required to navigate out of crisis. Governance becomes about managing optics and not solving problems. Ministries and agencies become echo chambers for recycling false optimism rather than delivering results. The Tinubu administration seems to be stuck in this feedback loop of denial, convinced that the same neoliberal playbook that wrecked Latin American economies in the 1980s will somehow rescue Nigeria.
Compounding this dysfunction is the president’s obsession with early politicking for reelection. Rather than focus on crisis management and institutional rebuilding, Tinubu and his APC have already shifted their gaze to 2027. The endorsements, forced defections and the realignments within the party all point to a political class more concerned with power retention than national recovery. This premature focus on electoral strategy is not just irresponsible. It is a form of governance abdication. It raises the question: who is actually running the country while the president is posturing for a second term?
But this early campaigning also serves another purpose. It creates a smokescreen for the more sinister process of state capture. Under the cover of economic reforms and restructuring, Nigeria’s critical institutions are being quietly co-opted by individuals and business interests close to the president. The result is a form of crony capitalism where policy is no longer shaped by public need, but by private interest. The Central Bank’s independence is increasingly questionable. The judiciary’s silence on key constitutional breaches is telling. Procurement processes are more opaque than ever. What emerges is not a reformist government but a regime of elite consolidation, and a government of the few, run for the few, and by the few.
While the opposition may appear fragmented on the surface, it is in fact engaged in the complex and necessary work of building a broad and strategic alliance. This task is made more difficult by years of institutional decay and widespread public distrust. What’s missing is not activity, but clarity. Nigerians still need to hear what this coalition truly offers in contrast to the APC’s catastrophic record. The real challenge is not just removing a ruling party that has overseen economic collapse, rising insecurity, and institutional erosion. It is articulating a credible, people-driven alternative grounded in clear policy, national unity, and moral leadership.
The time for reactive criticism is over. Opposition leaders, civil society actors, and grassroots movements must treat the 2027 elections not as a mere political contest but as a national rescue mission which requires serious organizing, clear economic and social plans, and a commitment to rise above ethnic, regional, and personal rivalries. This is no longer about party supremacy. It is about saving a country on the brink.
Nigerians must also ask themselves hard questions. Has the APC earned another mandate after nearly a decade of dysfunction? Can we continue to entrust the future of a young and struggling population to a government that governs through confusion, spin, and elite consensus? Silence and cynicism are no longer neutral but complicity.
There is still time to chart a new course, but it is running out. The 2027 elections must not be treated as business as usual. It must be treated as a referendum on whether Nigeria remains viable or slips irreversibly into chaos. President Tinubu’s tenure has made one thing to us painfully clear: Nigeria’s political economy is broken. Without sustained and strategic resistance, even deeper collapse is possible. The true danger is not just failure.
The question before Nigerians is stark and urgent: Can we survive another term of Tinubu’s leadership? Or is 2027 our last real chance to reclaim the republic?
