President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s May 29, 2025, address to the nation was a masterclass in political theatre—rhetorical, flowery, and rich with promises. He painted a picture of a blooming Nigeria where hardship is retreating and prosperity is on the march. But Mr. President, with all due respect, Nigerians are not fools. The taste of the pudding is in the eating, and right now, Nigerians are not eating—their plates are empty, their pockets lean, and their patience thin.
Two years after assuming the mantle of leadership, Tinubu claims he is laying the foundation for a “sustainable future.” But what kind of foundation leaves 133 million people multidimensionally poor in the present, according to the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) and 106 million living in “extreme poverty” according to the World Bank? What sort of prosperity are we talking about when food inflation is galloping at over 40.53% as of April 2025? What sustainable future begins with unsustainable suffering?
This administration often chants the mantra of “necessary reforms” like a church hymn, expecting it to absolve it of the cascading hardship its policies have inflicted. The removal of fuel subsidy and unification of exchange rates may have been economically sound on paper, but they were implemented with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer smashing glass. No cushioning. No phased approach. Just shock therapy—administered to a nation already on life support.
Tinubu celebrates fiscal stability, boasting that Ways and Means borrowing has stopped, but fails to mention the over N49 trillion debt his government inherited and has ballooned beyond control in just two years. For the records, Tinubu has escalated Nigeria’s debt to N144 trillion – with more foreign loans now being requested, which could push the debt to ₦183 trillion. His speech conveniently skips the pressing question: who will bear the brunt of repaying this debt? The answer is painfully obvious—ordinary Nigerians.
While the president claims inflation is “easing,” the NBS says otherwise. Headline inflation stood at 33.69% in April 2025—up from 22.41% in May 2023 when Tinubu assumed office. Meanwhile, the naira continues its humiliating plunge, trading around ₦1,450/$1 at the official window and worse at parallel markets. The cost of basic food items has doubled or tripled. A bag of rice now sells for over ₦80,000, up from ₦38,000 two years ago. Yam, once the poor man’s staple, now sits like gold in the market stalls.
In his speech, Tinubu claims that over 1,000 primary healthcare centres have been refurbished, and another 5,500 are underway. That’s commendable on the surface. But have you visited these centres, Mr. President? Many still lack drugs, electricity, and trained personnel. Patients are dying of preventable illnesses. Free dialysis and caesarean sections may sound good on the microphone, but for the average citizen, these promises are as mythical as unicorns.
He also touts Nigeria’s external reserves, now pegged at over $23 billion, up from $4 billion in 2023. But how much of that was borrowed? How much is tied to foreign-denominated debts? And if reserves are really this strong, why is the naira still gasping for breath? Why are manufacturers shutting down due to import constraints? Where is the promised industrial rebirth?
The President beams about his student loan scheme. Yet, many students remain stranded, unable to access the loans due to bureaucratic bottlenecks and unrealistic criteria. Meanwhile, university lecturers are groaning under withheld salaries, and public universities continue their dance of strikes and resumed lectures like a tragic opera.
Security, according to Tinubu, is improving. But in the past two years, over 16,000 Nigerians have been killed due to insecurity, according to SBM Intelligence. Bandits, kidnappers, and terrorists still hold sway across large swathes of the North. Abuja–Kaduna highways remain risky; farming communities in Plateau, Benue, and Kaduna live in daily fear. Soldiers die in ambushes; school children are abducted; ransom payments have become a parallel economy.
He trumpets oil investments and rising rig activity, yet Nigeria still struggles to meet its OPEC production quota of 1.8 million barrels per day. Oil theft remains an open wound, and the promised local refining capacity is still largely aspirational despite the commissioning of the Dangote Refinery. Nigerians still pay international prices for fuel they shouldn’t be importing in the first place.
The so-called tax reforms that have pushed the tax-to-GDP ratio to 13.5% are being borne by overburdened small businesses. Meanwhile, big corporations continue to enjoy selective waivers and tax holidays. Tinubu talks of eliminating multiple levies, but in reality, market traders and artisans across Nigeria still pay informal taxes to touts, councils, and revenue agents. The Tax Ombudsman he mentioned may end up being another toothless bulldog if not backed by political will.
He cited economic growth at 3.4% in 2024, but what does that mean to a mother who cannot afford milk for her baby? What does GDP growth mean to the unemployed graduate hawking sachet water in traffic? Growth that does not translate into jobs, food, and dignity is growth in name only. It’s like painting a mansion on the wall of a mud house and calling it real estate.
Yes, the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway and other infrastructural projects are worthy of note. But they are not the bread and butter that citizens need today. You don’t ask a starving man to admire the kitchen when there’s no food on the table. Infrastructure is important, but it cannot substitute for comprehensive human development.
Even the data being flaunted in the President’s speech has come under fire for lack of transparency. Analysts and civil society actors are beginning to ask tough questions: Who audits these figures? What methodology supports these claims? If all indicators are improving, why is life getting worse for the average Nigerian?
Mr. President, you said you were elected to “confront Nigeria’s challenges head-on.” But it seems the Nigerian people have become casualties in your battle with macroeconomic theory. They are the collateral damage of reforms designed without empathy, executed without planning, and defended without shame.
The Nigerian people are not asking for miracles. They are asking for sincerity. For leadership that feels their pain. For policies that consider their daily realities. For a government that talks less and listens more. A government that does not gaslight them with statistics while they sleep hungry.
Two years into this journey, the government must understand that it is not laying a foundation—it is laying landmines of discontent. If urgent steps are not taken to ease the burden on citizens, no matter how bright the future is claimed to be, Nigerians may never survive long enough to see it.
The time for empty speeches and polished propaganda is over. The people need action. They need relief. And they need it now.
Stanley Ugagbe is a Social Commentator. He can be reached via stanleyakomeno@gmail.com
