TMG vs TMS: The communication dilemma over Tinubu’s future — by Yushau Shuaib

I was reluctant to make this disclosure. For weeks, I weighed silence against the obligation to be transparent. In the end, a video forced the matter: footage of my brotherly friend, Omoyele Sowore, leading a “Tinubu Must Go” procession. It reminded me that this dilemma has a public dimension I can no longer keep to myself.

Let me begin with context. Sowore and I have maintained a cordial relationship despite our different orientations — his rooted in activist journalism, mine in strategic communication. When I was removed from federal public service after my well-documented altercation with then Finance Minister Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, Sowore used his platform, energy, and resources to defend me at a time when few were willing to be publicly associated with the controversy. That kind of solidarity is hard to forget.

When I later served as a communications consultant to a sensitive office and our media placements appeared on Sahara Reporters, which he still publishes, a misunderstanding followed. During my transit in New York on my way to Las Vegas, he declined to see me, suspecting, I believe, that I had come to compromise his editorial independence on behalf of the then National Security Adviser, Colonel Sambo Dasuki. He treated the man the same way.

Ironically, he and Dasuki later found common ground in a DSS detention cell, and were released the same day. I have never sought a favour from Sowore that he refused, except for one occasion when he confronted me over an article supporting Okonjo Iweala’s WTO aspiration. I respected his candour then, as I do now.

I offer this context not to demonstrate proximity to power on either side, but because the dilemma I am about to describe only makes sense against this background.

A few weeks ago, Kashifu Inuwa — a highly respected technocrat from the North and a strong supporter of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and the First Lady, Remi Tinubu — invited me to his office. Known nationwide for championing digital literacy and transformation that has empowered training centres and young people, Kashifu came straight to the point: he wanted my professional guidance in building a movement.

Before I could respond, he named it: “Tinubu Must Stay — for Continuity, Stability and Prosperity.”

I asked why the framing was not simply “Tinubu Should Stay.” His explanation was strategic, not sentimental. The movement was intended as a counter-narrative to the “Tinubu Must Go” campaign, which he believed had gained momentum from northern opposition quarters aligned with former Vice President Atiku Abubakar. He needed a response that matched the opposition’s framing without conceding its terms.

He asked me to commit within 24 hours. I requested more time, but he held firm. I told him I would return with an assessment. The question was not whether I supported the President. The question was whether I could support a campaign on terms that were professionally defensible.

I asked my team to run a perception index and sentiment analysis on recent campaigns around the President. Using PRrev — PRNigeria’s cross-platform media monitoring software supported by NITDA — the findings were sobering. Negative sentiment, especially on social media, was not just high; it showed a level of public disaffection that no honest communicator could mask with slogans or rallies.

I then consulted a cohort of young communicators — professionals in their late twenties and early thirties, from different regions and with no political affiliations. I asked if they would support the Tinubu Must Stay campaign. Their initial response was lukewarm. But I pressed further. I asked them to independently assess the administration’s verifiable achievements against the weight of public grievance. What they brought back was more instructive than I anticipated.

They found that Tinubu facilitated the takeoff of new medical universities — not only in the South, but also in Tsafe and Funtua in the North — institutions many Nigerians hardly know exist. They noted hundreds of housing units commissioned across northern states and a marked rise in federation account allocations to states and local governments, funds that previous administrations often diverted into federal intervention schemes like PTF, DFRRI and SURE P. Security improvements were equally notable: new military divisions, acquisition of sophisticated armaments, and better personnel remuneration.

These were concrete, documented, verifiable facts that had not penetrated public consciousness because communication around them had been, to put it mildly, inadequate — buried in technical statistics and figures that ordinary citizens rarely engage with.

Three of the young communicators who had been most reluctant became the most thorough in their research. By the end of the exercise, they joined the movement voluntarily, without inducement. To me, that was more significant than any polling data. It suggested that the deficit was not in the administration’s record — it was in the communication of that record.

When I returned to Kashifu, I recommended that the campaign be strictly evidence-based: facts, data, documented outcomes, and verifiable comparisons. I also cautioned against attacks on opposition personalities and confrontational posturing toward anti-government movements. No hired crowds. No orchestrated demonstrations. No manufactured street energy. No faking.

The forum would contribute intellectual rigour to the national conversation, not spectacle. A communication campaign built on verifiable facts does not need to shout down its critics. It simply needs to be heard.

Then, as I finalised my position, Sowore’s video emerged. My brotherly friend — the man who stood with me when others did not — was now supporting the very movement my professional guidance was retained to counter. I do not know whether he will formally align with the Atiku Abubakar camp, based on endorsements from initial conveners in the North.

As a student and practitioner of public relations, I believe the battle for public opinion in the months ahead will not be won by the side that shouts loudest, marches furthest, or commands the most digital noise. It will be won by the side that builds the most credible narrative around verifiable reality.

If the administration’s achievements are as substantial as the data suggest, then failing to communicate them is a failure of professional execution—not a failure of governance. And that failure can be corrected.

• Shuaib is the author of “An Encounter with the Spymaster” and “NIPSS: MNI Versus MNIPR- Tackling Institutional Bullying.” [email protected]