By Olanrewaju Osho
In the past few days, few names have generated as much conversation across Nigeria’s social media space and WhatsApp groups as Daniel Bwala. From heated debates to biting commentary, his political journey has once again become a national talking point.
But the real story may not be Daniel Bwala himself. The real story may be the Daniel Bwala in all of us.
Bwala, who now serves as a spokesperson for President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, once belonged to the All Progressives Congress during the administration of Muhammadu Buhari. At the height of the political tensions preceding the 2023 elections, he defected to the People’s Democratic Party, citing strong objections to Tinubu’s Muslim–Muslim presidential ticket.
He subsequently aligned himself with Atiku Abubakar and became one of Tinubu’s most vocal critics. To demonstrate loyalty to his new political camp, Bwala launched scathing attacks on Tinubu—questioning his record as Governor of Lagos State and even casting doubt on the legitimacy of his electoral victory. Yet less than a year later, Bwala returned to the Tinubu camp and emerged as one of the administration’s public defenders.
For many Nigerians, this dramatic turnaround feels shocking. Critics describe it as hypocrisy, opportunism, or political survival. But before we judge too quickly, we should ask ourselves an uncomfortable question:
HOW DIFFERENT ARE WE FROM DANIEL BWALA?
If we are honest, we will see how Bwala’s story mirrors a deeper pattern within Nigerian society—a troubling culture of self-interest elevated above principle.
Across the country, the spirit of self-preservation often overrides consistency, integrity, and truth. People change positions, alliances, and convictions depending on where personal advantage lies.
Religion has not cured this problem. Education has not eliminated it. Tribe has not restrained it. A person may pray five times daily or attend church every Sunday and still act with ruthless selfishness. A university degree does not guarantee integrity either; corruption and opportunism flourish among both the educated elite and the unlettered masses.
A selfish display never hides its face in Nigeria landscape. You see it on our roads, where drivers compete aggressively for space, indifferent to the chaos they create for others. You see it in our workplaces, where colleagues sabotage one another’s careers in pursuit of promotions and recognition.
You see it in markets, where survival often depends on who can outsmart whom. And you certainly see it in our politics everyday too.
Within Nigeria’s corridors of power—the executive, legislature, and judiciary—self-interest frequently overshadows national interest. Careers rise and fall based not on competence or service but on calculations of personal gain.
Corruption and greed do not emerge from nowhere. They grow in soil fertilized by selfishness.
Nigeria’s tragic paradox is that it is a nation rich in resources yet burdened by widespread poverty. A small minority enjoys extraordinary wealth while millions struggle daily for survival. The spirit of “me, myself, and I” has prevented the privileged few from recognizing their responsibility to the many.
Another disturbing feature of our national life is the normalization of dishonesty. Millions lie daily—not always out of wickedness, but often out of desperation or convenience. In time, lying stops feeling wrong; it becomes simply another tool for navigating a difficult system or situation.
During elections, some voters lie to themselves by accepting money for their votes while claiming to desire good governance. After elections, some politicians lie to themselves by believing that once power is secured, accountability no longer matters. Even within public administration, the culture of dishonesty persists. Budgets filled with unrealistic projections and inflated figures move through bureaucratic channels, pass legislative approval, and eventually shape national policy. Over time, these distortions cascade through the economy and become normalized behavior.
In such an environment, Daniel Bwala’s story should not merely provoke outrage. It should provoke reflection.
Cognitive dissonance prevents many Nigerians from seeing themselves in Daniel Bwala. We condemn political inconsistency while quietly practicing our own versions of it. We criticize dishonesty in public figures while excusing it in our daily lives. We forget that every lie, every selfish decision, every compromise of principle reflects the same underlying problem. Until we confront that problem honestly, Nigeria’s challenges will persist.
Nations are not transformed merely by changing leaders. They are transformed when citizens themselves change—when integrity replaces opportunism and when the common good becomes more important than personal advantage.
The uncomfortable truth is that Nigeria’s greatest challenge may not simply be the leaders we criticize. It may be the Daniel Bwala in all of us – selfishness and dishonesty.
Olanrewaju Osho is a change strategist, development advocate and transformation apostle. He is passionate about national rebirth and sustainable development in Nigeria and Africa.
