By Dare Adelekan
When President Bola Ahmed Tinubu unveiled his ministerial nominees last year, Nigerians across political divides waited eagerly to see one name on the list — Mallam Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai. His name initially appeared, creating a wave of optimism that the Renewed Hope Agenda would be anchored on competence and experience rather than political compensation. But soon enough, the tide turned.
The Senate withheld his confirmation, citing a so-called “security report,” and the President quietly moved on. Yet, behind the scenes, it was clear that El-Rufai’s omission went beyond any intelligence dossier — it was political, personal, and deeply revealing of the inner workings of the Tinubu presidency.
From all credible indications, President Tinubu genuinely wanted El-Rufai in his cabinet. The grapevine within the corridors of power suggested that he was being considered for the Ministry of Power and Energy — a sector that has long suffered from inefficiency and bureaucratic rot. El-Rufai’s managerial capacity and technical acumen made him an ideal fit. His track record as Minister of the Federal Capital Territory under President Olusegun Obasanjo remains one of the most transformative episodes in Nigeria’s recent governance history. He turned Abuja into a disciplined, planned city, reasserting order and purpose with a rare sense of mission — all without the drama and theatrics that now characterize the present Federal Executive Council.
So, what happened? Why did Tinubu, a man known for recognizing talent, abandon one of the most capable administrators Nigeria has ever produced?
The answer lies in politics — the kind that thrives not on competence but on control.
El-Rufai is not a man to be tamed. He is a reformer with an independent mind, one who speaks truth to power and rarely bows to political pressure. His bluntness, often mistaken for arrogance, is in reality the expression of a disciplined technocrat who detests mediocrity. He is not one to play the sycophant’s game or indulge in the kind of hero-worship that now defines Nigeria’s political elite. In simple terms, El-Rufai could not be expected to “lick anybody’s ashy hands,” to borrow the street phrase making the rounds in political circles.
Those who know him also know he takes no nonsense. He thrives on merit, not manipulation. He does not need presidential favor to perform; he needs only a clear mandate and the freedom to execute. And therein lies the problem. Tinubu’s inner circle — a mixture of loyalists, praise-singers, and political courtiers — reportedly warned that bringing El-Rufai on board could “destabilize” the hierarchy of loyalty around the President. They argued that El-Rufai was too independent, too strong-willed, too cerebral to fit into a system that values submission over substance.
Hence, the convenient narrative of a “security report” was floated — a ready-made excuse to neutralize a man who would not be easily controlled. The truth, however, is that El-Rufai’s exclusion was not about national security but political insecurity. It was about protecting fragile egos in the corridors of power. In a cabinet where noise often substitutes for performance, and where some ministers mistake verbosity for vision, El-Rufai’s mere presence would have exposed the emptiness of many.
It is ironic that the same qualities that make El-Rufai an asset to Nigeria are the ones that have turned him into an outsider in Tinubu’s government. He is brilliant, versatile, focused, and daring — the very traits that a reform-minded government should celebrate. Instead, the presidency seems to have chosen convenience over competence.
Today, the Ministry of Power continues to grope in the dark — literally and figuratively. The Renewed Hope Agenda in that sector is still struggling to find its feet, weighed down by bureaucracy and indecision. One can only imagine what
El-Rufai could have achieved if given the reins. His style may be abrasive to some, but Nigeria’s energy crisis requires precisely that kind of tough-minded reformer — not another politician afraid to ruffle feathers.
El-Rufai’s political future remains open. He may be temporarily sidelined, but he is far from finished. History has shown that Nigeria has a way of recalling its best brains when mediocrity has run its full course. For now, he watches from the sidelines as his contemporaries trade rhetoric for results. But one thing is clear — his legacy as a performer stands tall. Whether in public office or private life,
El-Rufai’s name will continue to resonate as one of the few Nigerian leaders who combine intellect, courage, and conviction.
In the final analysis, the decision to exclude Nasir El-Rufai from Tinubu’s cabinet was not a victory for governance; it was a victory for small minds over great ideas. The tragedy of Nigerian politics is not that we lack capable men and women, but that we often fear them. And until that culture changes, Nigeria will continue to recycle the same faces — loud in words, light in vision, and empty in delivery.