Rareview
-Clay Feet of the Gods
The Nigerian political theatre, once more, unfolded dramatically when Daniel Bwala, Special Adviser to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu on Media and Policy Communication, appeared on Al Jazeera’s Head to Head programme hosted by journalist Mehdi Hasan.
The episode, themed “Nigeria: Renewed Hope or Hopelessness?”, was intended as a global examination of the Tinubu administration’s record. Instead, it evolved into something deeper: a probing reflection of Nigeria’s political culture.
Throughout the interview, Hasan confronted Bwala with statements he had made in 2023 while aligned with the campaign of former Vice-President Atiku Abubakar of the Peoples Democratic Party.
The statements were not mild criticism. They included allegations that Tinubu had created militias to influence elections and insinuations about suspicious cash movements during the campaign.
Yet when confronted with those remarks, Bwala repeatedly responded with the same refrain.
“I never said that.”
Again and again, the denial surfaced. Clips were referenced, quotations cited, and past comments replayed in the format of the programme’s forensic cross-examination.
But Bwala stood firm.
“I never said that,” he insisted when asked about previous claims of threats from Tinubu’s political camp.
The exchange quickly went viral across social media platforms, sparking intense debate about political loyalty, credibility and the fragile relationship between truth and power in Nigeria’s public life.
Bwala’s political transformation is well documented.
Before the 2023 presidential election, he was a fierce critic of Tinubu and the All Progressives Congress. Later, he defected and eventually emerged as one of the administration’s most visible media defenders.
During the Al Jazeera interview, he acknowledged that his earlier remarks had been made while he was in opposition.
“The job of opposition is to oppose,” he explained, suggesting that such rhetoric was part of the theatre of partisan politics.
Those past statements, he argued, were no longer relevant to his current role defending the government.
But the defence did little to quiet the backlash.
Former Deputy Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria, Kingsley Moghalu, delivered one of the most scathing reactions.
“The interview was a disaster of gargantuan proportions for Nigeria as a country, for President Tinubu’s administration, and for Bwala himself,” Moghalu said in a public statement.
For him, the implications extended far beyond the individual performance of a presidential aide.
“It was a sad commentary on Nigeria’s political culture in which there are no beliefs, no policies, no ideology—just crass opportunism and the battle for political power.”
What made the episode particularly consequential was its international audience.
The Al Jazeera programme is watched worldwide and features a live audience format where participants directly challenge public figures.
Moghalu said the encounter projected a troubling image of Nigeria to the global community.
“The interview made a spectacle of Nigeria,” he said, noting that friends from several countries had contacted him after watching the broadcast.
“All were in shock and felt sorry for our country to be put in such a spot.”
For a nation already struggling with questions about governance, corruption, and leadership credibility, the moment felt symbolic.
It raised uncomfortable questions not just about one political figure, but about the deeper character of Nigerian politics.
Perhaps the most striking element of the controversy is not the denials over past statements.
Politics everywhere allows for evolving alliances. Political actors frequently shift positions as circumstances change.
But the problem arises when history itself appears negotiable.
If statements recorded on video can simply be dismissed with “I never said that,” what becomes of accountability?
What happens to public trust?
More importantly, what message does such behaviour send to younger Nigerians watching from the sidelines of political life?
Do they learn that politics is a realm where truth is disposable?
Where loyalty replaces integrity?
Where yesterday’s accusation becomes today’s denial?
These questions carry heavy weight for our polity
The country’s democracy, already strained by economic hardship, insecurity, and institutional distrust, relies on the fragile currency of credibility.
When leaders appear indifferent to that currency, the damage extends beyond personal reputations.
It touches the moral foundation of governance itself.
Ironically, Bwala may have unintentionally revealed something larger than the interview intended.
The spectacle exposed what many Nigerians quietly suspect: that political conviction is often secondary to political survival.
In that sense, the episode echoed an old proverb.
Even the gods, it says, have clay feet.
For generations, Nigerians have invested political leaders with almost mythical expectations—hoping each new administration will redeem the nation’s promise.
But moments like this strip away the illusion.
They remind citizens that power, however grand it appears, rests on human character.
And character, once compromised in the public arena, becomes difficult to rebuild.
In the aftermath of the controversy, Bwala dismissed critics, insisting he had no regrets defending the administration.
Promoting the president’s policies, he said, was his job, and he would do it “with ease and joy.”
Yet the deeper question remains unanswered.
Is Nigerian politics now a domain where words have no memory?
Where accusations, denials, and reversals flow freely without consequence?
If so, what does that mean for the nation’s democratic future?
A prominent presidential contender recently suggested that Nigeria might need to remove both the president and the entire National Assembly to rebuild the country from scratch.
Such radical sentiments reflect a growing frustration among citizens who feel that public institutions have been stripped of honour.
That frustration overly justified in the public space.
But the Bwala episode has undeniably added fuel to the perception.
In the end, the issue is less about one man or one interview.
It is about the culture of governance we are passing to the next generation.
If politics becomes a space where truth bends endlessly to power, the lesson to young Nigerians is stark: integrity is optional.
But nations cannot endure long on such a foundation.
Our country’s democratic journey—hard won after decades of military rule—was built on the promise of accountability and responsible leadership.
If that promise is to survive, our democratic custodians must recognise that responsible actions and words matter. That the citizens are enlightened and their voices and choices matter. That gangsterism, arrogance, and citizens contempt by leaders matter.
Because once the public begins to believe that leaders can act anyhow without consequence, the entire architecture of trust begins to crumble, as it is now with Nigeria.
And when trust collapses, even the mightiest political gods reveal what they truly are.
Men with clay feet.