The Monologue in Kaduna: Between Eulogies and Silence – The Missed Opportunity for Genuine Engagement

By Babayola M. Toungo

In the heart of northern Nigeria, within the historic city of Kaduna, a political convergence unfolded between the 29th and 30th of July 2025. Ostensibly, this gathering was to be a forum – a platform where government officials and citizens would critically assess the administration of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, especially as it relates to the promises made during his campaign and the tangible impacts on the northern region. Yet, what transpired was far from the spirit of honest dialogue. Instead, it became a monologue – a eulogy session for the president – marked by selective amnesia about pressing regional issues and glaring disparities in national resource allocation.

The call to gather in Kaduna came from northern politicians holding appointments in Tinubu’s administration, who in turn beckoned their provincial colleagues and state-level dignitaries. The official banner was “government-citizen engagement,” a phrase that ought to evoke images of robust debate, open critique, and accountability. In reality, however, the event was choreographed to project unwavering support for the government, to “sing the praises of the president,” and to parade lists of “imagined” projects and successes attributed to the Tinubu administration in the north.

This pivot from engagement to adulation is not a new phenomenon in Nigerian politics. Yet, it is particularly jarring against the backdrop of the north’s persistent developmental challenges and the unmet promises that echo from one administration to the next. The event, thus, became a textbook case of political theatre – carefully staged, meticulously scripted, but ultimately disconnected from the realities and aspirations of the people.

One of the most damning indictments of the gathering is the silence – wilful and, some would say, complicit – on the issue of allocation disparities between the north and other parts of Nigeria. The numbers are stark and speak for themselves. While the Murtala Mohammed International Airport in Lagos is set to benefit from a staggering allocation exceeding 700 billion naira for rehabilitation and upgrades, the Mallam Aminu Kano International Airport in Kano, which serves millions in the north, is left with a paltry 24 billion naira.

This is not an isolated case. Across sectors – infrastructure, healthcare, education, and beyond – the pattern of lopsided investments persists. The Abuja-Kaduna road, a critical artery for commerce and movement, languishes in neglect, its rehabilitation stalled since Tinubu’s ascendancy to the presidency, with officials citing the “paucity of funds.” Yet, paradoxically, the Lagos-Calabar Coastal Road, with an eye-watering budget of 15 trillion naira, proceeds apace, unencumbered by the supposed financial constraints that hobble projects in the north. The Ajaokuta-Kaduna-Kano (AKK) gas pipeline, an initiative once heralded as a game-changer for northern industrialization and energy security, is now at risk of becoming a “pipe dream,” its fate uncertain amid shifting priorities and diminishing political will.

Perhaps most troubling is the posture of northern political leaders, both those based in Abuja and their colleagues from the states. Summoned to Kaduna, they were presented with an opportunity – a rare platform – to articulate the concerns of their constituents, to interrogate the performance of the federal government, and to press for equity in the distribution of national resources. Instead, the gathering degenerated into a ceremonial chorus, each speaker seemingly competing to outdo the other in praise-singing, while studiously ignoring the mounting evidence of regional neglect and underinvestment.

This behaviour raises uncomfortable questions about the role and responsibility of political elites in advancing the collective interests of their people. Is the duty of leadership to bear witness to inequity in silence, or to challenge it with courage? When faced with the evidence of lopsided allocations, should the response be one of acquiescence, or of advocacy for fairness and justice?

Genuine government-citizen engagement is the lifeblood of democracy. It requires more than periodic gatherings and orchestrated events; it demands a culture of accountability, transparency, and mutual respect. In its truest form, engagement means listening as much as speaking, embracing critique as a catalyst for improvement, and being willing to adjust course in the face of evidence and reasoned argument. The Kaduna gathering, however, fell short of this ideal. Instead of providing a forum for honest interrogation of the government’s performance – particularly in relation to the specific promises made by President Tinubu during his 2022 campaign – the event became a monologue. Dissenting voices were conspicuously absent or muted, and uncomfortable truths were glossed over in favour of platitudes and selective storytelling.

This disconnect between the theory and practice of engagement has real consequences. When citizens perceive that their concerns are not being heard, or that political gatherings are merely exercises in public relations, trust in government erodes. The result is a widening chasm between the governed and those who govern, with implications for political stability, social cohesion, and national development.

In the run-up to the 2023 general elections, President Tinubu made a series of explicit promises to the north – commitments on security, infrastructure, energy, and economic opportunity. These promises were not abstract or ambiguous; they were concrete pledges, made before the north and documented for posterity. Yet, the record since then tells a different story. Projects have stalled, allocations have favoured other regions, and the pace of progress has slowed. Rather than holding the administration to account, northern political leaders at the Kaduna meeting chose to forget, or at least to feign forgetfulness, about these pledges. The result was not a reckoning, but a ritual – a ritual of praise, divorced from the realities that millions of northerners contend with each day.

The Kaduna monologue is more than a single event; it is a symptom of deeper pathologies within the Nigerian political system. It exposes the dangers of conflating loyalty with silence, and of mistaking public relations for public accountability. The disparities in allocation between the north and other regions are not just matters of budgetary arithmetic; they are questions of justice, equity, and national cohesion.
If the promise of democracy is to mean anything, then political gatherings – especially those that bring together the nation’s leaders – must be spaces for truth-telling, for advocacy, and for the relentless pursuit of the common good. Anything less is a disservice to the people and a betrayal of the future.

It is incumbent upon both leadership and citizenry to demand more: more honesty, more fairness, and more courage to confront uncomfortable truths. Until the monologues give way to meaningful dialogues, and until the rituals of praise are replaced by the rigour of critique, the promise of a just and equitable Nigeria will remain unfulfilled – a promise deferred, waiting for the day when the silence will finally be broken.