WHY TRUE LEADERSHIP IN NIGERIA CAN'T BE MEASURED IN 8 YEARS

By Abu Sidiq

(ABUBAKAR SADIQ USMAN)

Toward the end of his time in office, former President Muhammadu Buhari (May his soul rest in peace) shared an insightful view on governing Nigeria. He acknowledged the reality of leadership in Nigeria, where doing your best may still not be enough.

This moment of honesty came from a man known more for his stoic demeanor than self-reflection. Yet within his words lies a stark truth that many who have held Nigeria’s highest office understand.

Nigeria’s political landscape is harsh. The presidency is both a thankless and overwhelming job. Leaders often enter office with high hopes and bold plans. However, they quickly face crises, whether economic shocks, institutional sabotage, political disputes, or an impatient public. In this environment, even the most well-intentioned leaders end up spending more time dealing with emergencies than initiating change. By the time they start to find their footing, their term may be nearly over, or the next power struggle has already begun.

Most Nigerian presidents spend their first four years focused on stabilizing their administration. They are busy consolidating power, managing party divisions, dealing with the opposition, and navigating complex regional expectations. This doesn’t leave much room for innovation, reform, or long-term planning. Even those who launch bold reforms early usually don’t see the results by the end of their term. 

President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua took office with one of the most disciplined reform plans of the Fourth Republic. He focused on the power sector, offered amnesty to militants in the Niger Delta, and worked to restore respect for the rule of law. Unfortunately, his time in office was cut short by health issues, stopping the progress of his administration. His successor, President Goodluck Jonathan, continued with reforms. He started privatizing the power sector and pushed the long-delayed Petroleum Industry Bill. However, these efforts faced challenges from rising insecurity, Boko Haram’s resurgence, internal conflicts within the PDP, and a difficult re-election campaign.

Another major challenge to stable leadership in Nigeria is the common practice of discarding the policies of prior administrations, even when from the same party. Every new government tries to leave its own mark by starting over. This undermines continuity, squanders public resources, and slows down progress.

Policy inconsistency has been a constant issue in Nigeria’s political scene.

Obasanjo’s economic reforms, including the National Economic Empowerment and Development Strategy (NEEDS) and telecom liberalization, were not fully established. Their momentum disappeared quickly after he left office.

Jonathan’s SURE-P program, which aimed to reinvest savings from fuel subsidies into infrastructure and social development, was dismantled by the Buhari administration.

Buhari, in turn, started major infrastructure projects, especially in rail and road. President Tinubu has since changed the focus to a new economic agenda and has made some changes to these ongoing projects.

Even the difficult, yet arguably necessary reforms Tinubu is currently undertaking may not survive the next transition. As with those before him, there is little guarantee that the policies of today will endure tomorrow.

This cycle of erasure and reinvention prevents structural reforms from taking root. Nigeria ends up governing in loops, always starting, never finishing. Little wonder the public continues to endure hardship under each administration without ever seeing the long-term dividends of reform.

Even the best intentions cannot thrive on weak foundations. Nigeria’s public institutions remain politicized, underfunded, and inefficient. A new president often has to rebuild the machinery of state before implementing any real vision. But rebuilding requires time, more time than an 8-year term allows. Leadership turns into a race against both institutional inertia and electoral schedules. A president may create an agenda, but without strong, independent institutions to support it, that agenda expires with the administration.

Adding to these challenges is the complicated nature of Nigerian identity politics. Presidents cannot lead based purely on merit or urgency. Each major decision must consider ethnic, regional, and religious balances, with zoning, federal character, and patronage often taking priority over capability. This slows governance, weakens meritocracy, and limits a leader’s ability to act boldly.

So is eight years too short? Yes and no. No, because the 8-year constitutional term limit exists for good reasons: to prevent tyranny, maintain accountability, and ensure peaceful transitions. But also yes, because in Nigeria’s current system, eight years simply isn’t enough to navigate the nation’s complexities and implement significant reforms. The problem isn’t just the term length. It’s the system’s fragility, the shortsightedness of our politics, and the lack of continuity in governance.

We don’t need to change the constitution. We need to change our expectations and structures. Presidents must focus on creating systems that endure beyond their term: the judiciary, civil service, anti-corruption agencies, and regulatory bodies. Legacy isn’t about ribbon-cutting; it’s about lasting institutional impact. Reform shouldn’t reset every four years. Nigeria needs national development plans that go beyond political cycles. We’ve had such plans before, even if they were poorly implemented. The current challenge is follow-through. We must stop measuring leadership by noise, charisma, or the number of completed projects. Instead, we should ask: did they institutionalize reform? Did they create systems that last?

Civic education must also promote the idea that governance is a relay, not a solo sprint. The baton must pass, not be discarded.

In a country as complex as Nigeria, true leadership often goes unnoticed while happening. It may not make headlines, win elections, or earn applause. But its effects, in stronger institutions, better systems, and sustainable reforms will last long after the leader has left.

Former President Buhari’s reflection, “You can only do your best,” wasn’t an excuse. It was a confession. It recognized the hard limits of the office. It reminds us that in Nigeria, leading well means planting trees whose shade you may never enjoy.

That is the standard we must now hold our leaders to. Because if this isn’t what they promise, and prepare for, the cycle will continue. And even the most capable leader will end up doing far less than the moment demands.

Abu Sidiq is a realistic, yet idealistic Nigerian.