Tinubu’s soft landings and what Nigerians hear

There is an unwritten rule in Nigerian politics that explains why the Presidency often issues statements whenever someone significant leaves the cabinet or President Bola Tinubu’s employ.

Last week, it was two, no, three ministers who exited the cabinet.

Within 48 hours, the Minister of Finance and Coordinating Minister of the Economy, Wale Edun; the Minister of Housing and Urban Development, Arc. Musa Dangiwa and the Minister of Power, Adebayo Adelabu, left their positions.

On Monday, April 20, the Office of the Secretary to the Government of the Federation announced what it described as a “minor cabinet reshuffle.”

Senator George Akume’s memo was almost surgical. It stated that the President had “approved” that Edun and Dangiwa are to leave the cabinet.”

It also directed that both officials hand over by the close of business on Thursday and cited Sections 147 and 148 of the Constitution.

To the average Nigerian, the language reads like an executive decision, the kind that suggests the President has exercised his powers once again.

A day later, however, the Presidency issued a statement titled, “Wale Edun, former finance minister, and Musa Dangiwa, housing minister, resigned; they were not sacked.”

The statement said Edun had submitted his resignation on his 70th birthday for health reasons, while Dangiwa “similarly resigned.”

It added that Edun had even paid an hour-long valedictory visit to the President.

Now, both statements may be true at the same time. A minister can resign, and the President can approve a reshuffle.

But in a country where most public officials, including ministers, rarely resign voluntarily, where appointees cling to office until they are forced out, Nigerians often find it difficult to believe that such exits are voluntary. The exception, perhaps, is Adelabu, who reportedly resigned against the President’s wishes, according to sources who spoke to Saturday PUNCH.

This is not the first time the Presidency has had to clarify such exits.

When the Inspector-General of Police, Kayode Egbetokun, was retired in March, the Presidency said he resigned to attend to family issues. Yet, sources later told The PUNCH that the President had effectively shown him the door after losing confidence in his handling of key issues, including the directive on police withdrawal from VIPs and the state police debate.

The former Ministers of Defence and Innovation, Science and Technology also “resigned.”

Last December, the Presidency said Farouk Ahmed, former chief executive officer of the Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority, and Gbenga Komolafe, chief executive of the Nigerian Upstream Petroleum Regulatory Commission, both stepped down voluntarily.

Then there are instances of reversed appointments.

When Muheeba Dankaka’s appointment as Federal Character Commission chair was withdrawn within hours, the explanation was “incomplete vetting.”

When Idris Olorunnimbe’s UBEC chairmanship was reversed in favour of Tanko Al-Makura, it was described as a “review.”

When Asu Okang was replaced on the NDDC board by Orok Otuk Duke, it was also termed a review. When Ruby Onwudiwe’s CBN nomination was withdrawn, it was linked to her affiliation with the Labour Party.

When Ibrahim Kashim Imam’s FERMA chairmanship was cancelled 48 hours after it was announced, it was again attributed to a review.

In each case, officials resigned, stepped aside, withdrew, or were reviewed out of office. Yet Nigerians often interpret these actions as dismissals. That perception is rooted in decades of political culture in which public officials rarely resigned voluntarily.

They were either sacked or asked to resign, a soft landing designed to preserve dignity.

It is the parachute offered before pushing someone out of the plane, because their CV cannot accommodate the word “sacked.”

So when the Presidency insists that a minister resigned and was not dismissed, many Nigerians hear something different: that the official was removed but allowed the dignity of writing the resignation letter.

The more the clarification, the stronger the suspicion.

Edun and Dangiwa, by most accounts, did write their resignation letters. Edun, at 70, has had health concerns and is said to have intended to return to private business.

Dangiwa, an architect with a long career, may also have chosen his moment to exit. But it remains possible that their departure was not entirely voluntary.

Meanwhile, the President received Letters of Credence from seven ambassadors and two high commissioners, including envoys from Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Sudan.

Tinubu also aligned Nigeria with Gulf states caught in the crossfire of the US-Israel tensions with Iran.

He said, “The Federal Republic of Nigeria expresses its full solidarity with the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, the State of Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, the State of Kuwait, the Kingdom of Bahrain, the Sultanate of Oman, and the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, in the face of the recent attacks.”

The President named specific countries, condemned specific attacks, and stopped short of identifying the aggressors.

Nigeria has investments in Saudi Arabia and Qatar, a significant population of Iranian Shi’a sympathisers in Kaduna and Kano, a complex relationship with Israel, and a strategic partnership with the United States it cannot afford to jeopardise.

On the same day, the First Lady received the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, at the State House, where she said the world must stop misinterpreting Nigeria’s security crisis as a religious war.

Mrs Tinubu argued that the crisis is “complex,” driven by deep socio-economic challenges rather than a simple Christian-Muslim divide often portrayed by foreign observers.

She is not wrong. The killings in Kwara, Plateau, Zamfara and Katsina cannot be reduced to religion alone. Some are economic, ethnic, jihadist, while others are outright criminality cloaked in religious narratives.

What remains undeniable, however, is that Nigerians are dying from terrorism in a country the President swore to protect.

Perhaps the focus should not be on shaping how the world interprets these killings, but on ensuring that there are no killings left to interpret.