A democracy faces a serious challenge when stating an established fact requires more courage than expressing a popular political opinion. In Nigeria’s increasingly polarised public discourse, criticism of government is often mistaken for proof of courage and activism, while recognition of government action is treated as evidence of political patronage.
This confusion has created a disturbing situation in which some commentators appear more interested in defending their political positions than in examining the facts. Yet journalism cannot fulfil its responsibility to society if its conclusions are determined by political sentiment rather than evidence.
This is what makes Dr Reuben Abati’s recent intervention on President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s Renewed Hope Agenda particularly significant. Beyond the immediate political debate, Abati has drawn attention to a fundamental principle that should guide every serious journalist: independence is not measured by the frequency or intensity of one’s criticism of government, but by the integrity with which facts are examined and presented.
A journalist does not become more credible by refusing to acknowledge government initiatives simply because doing so might attract accusations of partisanship. Neither does acknowledging such initiatives amount to an endorsement of the administration responsible for them.
Abati’s argument was straightforward. It is perfectly legitimate to question whether the Tinubu administration’s poverty alleviation initiatives have succeeded, whether they have reached their intended beneficiaries and whether their implementation has justified the resources committed to them.
What is difficult to defend is the sweeping assertion that the government has done nothing when identifiable interventions have been introduced. There is a substantial difference between questioning the effectiveness of a policy and denying its existence. The former is an essential function of journalism. The latter risks replacing serious scrutiny with political partisanship.
The distinction deserves particular attention because the Tinubu presidency has unfolded during a period of considerable economic difficulty. Since assuming office in May 2023, the President has pursued reforms aimed at addressing structural weaknesses that have accumulated over several decades. The removal of fuel subsidy and changes to the foreign exchange system were among the administration’s earliest and most consequential decisions. Their impact has been felt across the country.
However, economic difficulties cannot, by themselves, establish that the government has introduced no measures to address them. A serious assessment must distinguish between the effects of economic reform, the existence of accompanying interventions and the extent to which those interventions have achieved their objectives.
The Renewed Hope Agenda includes initiatives in education, healthcare, social protection, infrastructure and economic development. The Nigerian Education Loan Fund, for example, was established to improve access to tertiary education through student financing. The administration has also announced interventions directed at vulnerable households, community development and other areas of social welfare.
Their implementation and outcomes remain legitimate subjects for investigation, particularly in a country where the distance between government promises and everyday experience has often been considerable.
However, the existence of this gap is precisely why journalism must become more rigorous rather than more dismissive. If a program has failed, the public deserves to know why. If funds have been allocated without corresponding results, the discrepancies should be exposed. If beneficiaries have been excluded or implementation has been compromised, those failures should be documented. Such investigations would contribute far more to public accountability than declarations that disregard the existence of the programs themselves.
Abati’s intervention is important because it insists upon that distinction. He is not asking journalists to abandon criticism or to accept government statements without verification. His argument, properly understood, demands a higher standard of criticism, one grounded in evidence and capable of distinguishing between policy announcements, actual implementation and measurable outcomes.
There is something particularly instructive about this position coming from a journalist who once served as presidential spokesperson under Goodluck Jonathan, whose administration was led by the Peoples Democratic Party.
Abati’s experience in government and the newsroom gives him a perspective on the relationship between political communication and journalistic responsibility. That experience does not make his views beyond question, but it illustrates why a journalist’s professional judgment should not be permanently defined by past political associations.
More importantly, his argument raises a question about the culture of political commentary in Nigeria. We have gradually developed an atmosphere in which the severity of criticism is sometimes treated as evidence of journalistic courage. The harsher the language, the greater the assumption of independence.
Yet criticism is not automatically truthful because it is severe. A journalist can be deeply critical and still be mistaken or partisan, just as a government official can make a factual statement without every aspect of the administration’s conduct being justified. This is why the obligation of journalism is to distinguish between the two.
Too much of our national debate now begins with conclusions rather than questions. Political positions are established first, and facts are subsequently arranged to support them. Government supporters sometimes exaggerate the significance of policy announcements, presenting intentions as achievements.
Opposition commentators may dismiss identifiable interventions because acknowledging them would complicate a broader argument about government performance. Both tendencies weaken public understanding and make it more difficult to determine what is actually happening.
President Tinubu’s economic reforms provide a particularly important test of this principle. His administration maintains that its policies are designed to correct longstanding distortions, strengthen public finances and create the conditions for sustainable economic growth.
Supporters regard the reforms as necessary adjustments whose benefits must be assessed over time. Critics question their timing, implementation and distributional consequences, especially for Nigerians who have experienced declining purchasing power and increasing economic pressure.
A policy may address a genuine structural problem while creating immediate hardship.
This is why the argument that the Tinubu administration has done absolutely nothing is less useful than a careful examination of what it has undertaken and what those efforts have accomplished.
The approach becomes even more important as Nigeria moves towards the 2027 general elections. Election seasons naturally encourage competing narratives about the performance of those in power. Governments emphasise their achievements, while opposition parties draw attention to failures and unmet expectations. That contest is a normal part of democratic politics. Journalism, however, has a responsibility that extends beyond the interests of either side.
A free press must be able to question government without becoming an extension of opposition politics. It must also be able to acknowledge verifiable government action without surrendering its independence. Its credibility depends upon applying the same standards of evidence to every administration, irrespective of political affiliation.
This is where journalism of conviction acquires its true meaning. Conviction should not be confused with stubborn attachment to a predetermined position. Nor should it become a justification for dismissing evidence that challenges an established opinion. The strongest convictions are those disciplined by facts, strengthened by inquiry and open to correction when new information emerges.
Abati’s intervention offers an opportunity to reflect on that responsibility. It also creates a corresponding obligation for the Tinubu administration.
Equally, those who criticise government should recognise that a more precise argument is often a more powerful one. Demonstrating that a poverty alleviation initiative has failed to reach its intended beneficiaries is a substantive criticism that can compel public attention and official accountability. Declaring that no intervention exists, without examining the record, is a much weaker proposition.
Accuracy gives criticism its authority. Exaggeration merely creates opportunities for the substance of legitimate concerns to be overlooked.
The larger issue, therefore, is not the reputation of President Tinubu or the political implications of Abati’s observations. It is the standard of public reasoning that Nigerians should expect from those who interpret national events. A society cannot make informed democratic choices if facts are continually filtered through partisan expectations. Citizens need reliable information about government actions, their costs, their consequences and the alternatives being proposed.
The media occupies a central position in providing that information. Its independence is valuable precisely because it allows journalists to challenge official narratives, investigate wrongdoing and subject public claims to scrutiny. However, that independence loses much of its meaning when it becomes indistinguishable from habitual opposition or an unwillingness to acknowledge anything that reflects positively on those in authority.
There is no professional virtue in refusing to recognise a fact simply because it concerns a government one has criticised. Nor is there any virtue in overlooking failure because an administration has introduced policies with admirable objectives. Journalism must retain the freedom to do both: acknowledge what is demonstrably true and question what remains unsupported.
This is the deeper lesson of Abati’s intervention. The question is not whether journalists should defend Tinubu or oppose him. It is whether they possess the independence of mind to assess his administration without allowing political expectations to dictate their findings.
That independence demands the intellectual honesty to recognise facts that may be unpopular with one’s audience, the discipline to separate evidence from assumption and the humility to accept that political reality is rarely as simple as competing partisan narratives suggest.
Nigeria’s democracy needs that kind of journalism, especially at a time when political competition is intensifying and public trust in institutions remains under pressure. The country does not benefit when every discussion of government policy becomes a contest between unqualified praise and categorical condemnation. It benefits when citizens can distinguish between promises and achievements, intentions and outcomes, criticism and distortion.
Abati’s argument is a reminder that journalism serves democracy not by choosing which political side deserves to be believed, but by establishing what the evidence permits the public to believe.
The press must never allow its opposition to a government to become opposition to the facts. Equally, its recognition of the facts must never become an excuse to abandon scrutiny of those who exercise power.
That is the journalism of conviction worth defending, and it is the standard by which both Abati’s intervention and the larger debate about President Tinubu’s Renewed Hope Agenda should be understood.
