The response by the President’s Senior Special Assistant on Media and Publicity to Cardinal John Onaiyekan’s television interview reveals a troubling misunderstanding of constitutional democracy. It also exposes a growing tendency within this administration to confuse criticism with disloyalty and accountability with discourtesy.
The starting point is simple. A meeting between the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria and the Catholic Bishops’ Conference is not a private social gathering. It is an engagement between elected political authority and representatives of one of the country’s largest faith communities. It concerns public affairs, public policy, and the welfare of over 200 million Nigerians. Such meetings inevitably carry a public interest dimension.
To suggest that Cardinal Onaiyekan committed an “abuse of clerical privilege” by discussing the broad substance of that meeting is to elevate presidential sensitivities above democratic accountability. The privilege, if any exists, belongs neither to the President nor to the bishops. The real stakeholder is the Nigerian people, in whose name public power is exercised.
In every constitutional democracy, government is accountable to the governed. Accountability is not a privilege graciously bestowed by those in power. It is an obligation imposed upon them by the Constitution and by the social contract.
The President did not grant the bishops an audience as a personal favour. He was discharging one of the ordinary responsibilities of his office. Public officials are expected to engage citizens, religious leaders, trade unions, professional bodies, civil society organisations and other stakeholders. That is democracy at work, not royal benevolence.
The article repeatedly praises the President for “graciously” receiving criticism and patiently listening. That is akin to applauding a judge for hearing arguments from counsel before delivering judgment. Listening is not extraordinary. It is part of the job description.
Equally curious is the assertion that because the President receives intelligence briefings unavailable to ordinary Nigerians, his assessment of security deserves greater deference. Intelligence is valuable for operational decisions. It is not a substitute for the lived reality of Nigerians who bury loved ones after terrorist attacks, kidnappings, communal violence and criminality. Citizens judge security not by classified reports but by whether they can safely travel from Abuja to Kaduna, farm their land in Benue, or sleep peacefully in Sokoto, Plateau, Zamfara or Borno.
If official briefings alone determined reality, no government anywhere in the world would ever fail.
The suggestion that criticism should remain confidential after such a meeting is equally misplaced. Unless there was an explicit agreement of confidentiality, no constitutional or legal principle prevents participants from discussing matters of public concern. Governments routinely brief the media after meetings with labour unions, business groups, foreign delegations and civil society organisations. Transparency strengthens democracy. Excessive secrecy weakens it.
More troubling is the repeated implication that those who publicly criticise government somehow breach etiquette while government spokespersons are free to publish lengthy rebuttals. That is an extraordinary proposition. If the meeting was truly so confidential that a bishop could not discuss it, why is it acceptable for the President’s spokesman to publish his own detailed account of what transpired? Confidentiality cannot become a one-way street.
The article also falls into a familiar trap: equating disagreement with ingratitude. Nigerians are repeatedly told to appreciate the sacrifices made by government and the disasters allegedly averted. Yet democratic governments are not elected to be congratulated for preventing catastrophe. They are elected to improve the lives of citizens.
Citizens remain entitled to ask difficult questions.
Have inflation and food prices become more affordable?
Has the purchasing power of ordinary Nigerians improved?
Can businesses access stable electricity?
Do Nigerians feel safer travelling across the country?
These are legitimate questions. Asking them is not an act of hostility. It is the essence of democratic citizenship.
Perhaps the most unfortunate aspect of the article is its attempt to diminish the role of religious leaders in national discourse. Throughout Nigeria’s history, clerics have spoken against military dictatorship, corruption, injustice and human rights abuses. Their moral authority has often outlasted that of transient political office holders. Their constitutional right to speak does not disappear because they have met with the President.
Indeed, freedom of expression under Section 39 of the Constitution belongs as much to a Cardinal as it does to a presidential spokesman.
The Presidency should also resist developing what increasingly appears to be a thin-skinned approach to governance. Every criticism is answered as though it were a declaration of war. Every dissenting voice is accused of misunderstanding government or failing to appreciate hidden achievements.
That is a dangerous trajectory.
Strong governments welcome scrutiny because they understand that criticism is not the enemy of democracy. It is one of its safeguards.
Nigeria does not belong to President Tinubu, his administration, his political party, or those who currently occupy public office. It is not a private enterprise to be managed according to the sensitivities of those in power. It belongs equally to every Nigerian, including those who support the government and those who oppose it.
The Presidency should therefore abandon the language of privilege and embrace the language of constitutional responsibility. Public office demands accountability, not applause.
The measure of democratic maturity is not how loudly government celebrates itself. It is how confidently it tolerates criticism.
And on that score, the ice is becoming dangerously thin.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 