David Hundeyin Is the last person who should be defining ‘elite’ – by Remilekun Cole

In a recent article, David Hundeyin asserts that Nigeria has no elites. His central argument is that even the country’s wealthiest and most privileged individuals are consumed by insecurity and a fear of poverty, incapable of long-term thinking or transforming society. He compares them to sugarcane sellers who stumble into wealth, still mentally tied to scarcity, status, and survival. It’s a provocative analogy, but one that says more about Hundeyin’s bias than any meaningful sociopolitical analysis.

More importantly, it is an argument delivered by someone whose personal and public record strips him of the moral authority to deliver such sweeping indictments. If integrity, public credibility, and a proven track record of responsible engagement are the basic standards for evaluating who can credibly define leadership and elite conduct, then David Hundeyin is arguably the last person who should be speaking on the matter.

Hundeyin has built a reputation as a loud voice on social media, but that voice has increasingly been discredited by courts, academic institutions, and the very public he claims to defend. In 2024, a UK court found him guilty of libel and ordered him to pay £95,000 in damages to BBC journalist Charles Northcott. The judgment didn’t stop at finding his claims false; it concluded that he had acted maliciously and aggravatingly, continuing to harass and defame the journalist even after the original publication.

He was ordered to take down the content and related social media posts — a directive he reportedly ignored. This wasn’t an editorial mistake or controversial opinion. It was a formal legal finding that he knowingly spread damaging falsehoods. Any individual who has been judged by a court of law to have abused their platform in this way should pause before positioning themselves as a national moral compass.

This pattern of misconduct goes beyond the courtroom. In 2023, Hundeyin was disavowed by both Oxford and Cambridge universities following a controversial event at Oxford’s African Studies Centre. The event, a book launch for his work, was promoted as an academic engagement and charged attendees £20, despite being hosted under the guise of a university event.

Oxford confirmed that neither Hundeyin nor his associate Onyeka Nwelue were professors or affiliated academics, and that university branding had been used without authorization. Cambridge also terminated its connection with him, citing conduct that did not align with their standards. These were not isolated misunderstandings. They reflected a clear pattern: using elite institutional branding to boost personal prestige and public perception, then hiding behind defiance when those same institutions publicly disassociate themselves from the deception. Again, this is a matter of record. The institutions involved made formal public statements. These were not minor academic politics; they were reputational rejections based on misrepresentation.

This is the same individual now claiming the right to lecture Nigerians on who is elite and who isn’t. He accuses wealthy Nigerians of being short-sighted and validation-hungry, yet he himself chased titles he didn’t earn, touted affiliations he didn’t legitimately hold, and attempted to monetise academic platforms through misleading branding.

He argues that Nigerian elites fail to think long-term or contribute meaningfully to society, yet his own career is built not on governance, institution-building, or public service, but on controversy, social media outrage, and attention-seeking polemics. He has never managed a government institution, implemented policy, contributed to systemic reform, or built anything sustainable. His influence is performative, not transformative.

Even if we put aside the question of character, his argument about Nigerian elites is intellectually hollow. To say that Nigeria has no elites is not just incorrect — it is lazy. It ignores the nuanced and varied ways in which influence is exercised in every society. Nigeria has its share of flawed individuals, but it also has people who are investing in education, health, governance, civil society, and philanthropy. Are they perfect? No. But they exist.

To paint all of Nigeria’s privileged classes with one brush is not analysis: it’s personal frustration masquerading as social commentary. Furthermore, his argument completely ignores the structural and systemic constraints within which Nigerian elites operate. Political instability, insecurity, regulatory inconsistency, and institutional weakness all limit what even well-intentioned actors can achieve. To reduce complex realities to psychology — “they are just scared of poverty” — is not just simplistic, it’s unserious.

The analogy he uses — comparing elites to sugarcane sellers with accidental wealth — is not only classist but deeply patronising. It assumes that the poor are incapable of maturity, evolution, or civic responsibility even when empowered. It says more about Hundeyin’s disdain for ordinary Nigerians than it does about the elite class he claims to critique. For someone who postures as a people’s advocate, he seems disturbingly comfortable drawing a line between who deserves respect and who doesn’t, based on stereotypes and assumptions.

Hundeyin claims that elites should be those who use power to shape society. By that definition, he fails his own test. He has not shaped anything. He has not governed. He has not legislated. He has not served. He has not built any enduring institutions. What he has built is a personal brand — one that relies on provocation, accusation, and performative outrage, rather than solutions or leadership. His career is defined by what he tears down, not by what he has built.

The truth is, David Hundeyin’s critique of the Nigerian elite is less about sociology and more about projection. It reflects his own frustration with not being granted the institutional legitimacy he craves. It is a familiar story: a man who cannot gain acceptance within the very elite circles he admires, turns around and declares them all fraudulent. But contempt is not the same as insight. And loudness is not the same as moral clarity.

Nigeria has many problems. It also has many voices. But if we are to have a meaningful conversation about what kind of leadership the country needs, that conversation should be led by people who have walked the talk — people who have earned the right to speak not just through words, but through service, sacrifice, and sustained impact. David Hundeyin is not that person. He has disqualified himself through his actions, not just his words. Until he demonstrates the integrity, discipline, and responsibility that leadership demands, he should be the last person sermonising about who is elite and who is not.