Opinion

El-Rufai: The Ego Behind the Pretense

By Abdulrauf Aliyu

Nasir El-Rufai, the self-proclaimed architect of modern Kaduna, now stands at the podium, preaching the virtues of democracy, good governance, and moral righteousness. But one cannot help but wonder: where was this so-called champion of democracy when his reign was defined by authoritarianism, divisiveness, and an utter disregard for the very ideals he now professes to uphold? His latest attempt to project himself as a beacon of integrity and vision should be met with a healthy dose of skepticism. After all, the man who systematically destroyed opposition, alienated whole swathes of his own people, and treated democratic processes as mere suggestions is hardly in a position to lecture anyone on good governance.

El-Rufai’s tenure as governor of Kaduna State is a textbook case of how power, unchecked and unbalanced, can breed a toxic mix of hubris and authoritarianism. Let’s not forget his notorious handling of opposition politics, where his methods were often nothing short of brutal. It was a strange recipe for governance: tear down your opponents’ homes, use state machinery to stifle dissent, and alienate entire regions simply for having the audacity to challenge his authority. As for Southern Kaduna, which bore the brunt of his policies, it became little more than a pariah in its own land. Divisions deepened, trust eroded, and an already fractured region was pushed further into the abyss.

But here’s the irony—this same Nasir El-Rufai, the man who ran the state like a personal fiefdom, is now posturing as the moral compass of the nation. He speaks as if he is the embodiment of democracy itself, a champion of good governance, a virtuous leader whose vision for the country must be followed without question. Perhaps the most comical aspect of this transformation is the convenient amnesia that his supporters seem to suffer from. How quickly they forget the chaos, the suffering, and the flagrant abuse of power that defined his tenure.

Let’s take a moment to consider the deeply troubling issue of the Adara elders’ crisis, which was all but ignited under El-Rufai’s watch. The forceful removal of traditional rulers, the manipulation of ethnic divisions, and the systematic undermining of local authority—all of these actions served only to create greater instability. Yet, in the grand theater of El-Rufai’s self-promotion, these matters are swept under the rug, conveniently forgotten as if they never happened. Could it be that this is what political amnesia looks like? If so, it’s a malady far more dangerous than any of us might have imagined. 

Urban dwellers in Kaduna may have once seen El-Rufai as a visionary. His so-called “urban renewal” programs were touted as a success, but to anyone who cared to look beyond the glossy brochures and the shiny infrastructure, the reality was far different. El-Rufai's vision of urban renewal was essentially a spectacle of gentrification, which ignored the pressing needs of rural communities while focusing solely on a few urban centers. But make no mistake, the façade of urban progress was not built on a foundation of sustainable growth or genuine concern for the well-being of the people. It was a superficial transformation that masked the reality of worsening poverty in the rural areas.

Ah, rural development. For El-Rufai, it seems, the concept is little more than an oxymoron. It’s as if he believes that addressing the needs of the rural population is some sort of colonial strategy to keep Africa in a perpetual state of underdevelopment. How quaint. But the truth is, under his leadership, rural poverty in Kaduna worsened. Health outcomes were dismal. Education in public schools became an afterthought. The much-touted reforms and development programs were nothing more than Isomorphic mimicry, a term coined by Matt Andrew to describe the practice of mimicking successful policies without the commitment to their substance or context. El-Rufai was guilty of exactly that—he implemented flashy reforms, but the outcomes were woefully inadequate.

Under his stewardship, the people of Kaduna experienced what can only be described as premature load bearing. The state was forced to carry the weight of a governance model that was not only ill-conceived but also profoundly disconnected from the realities of its population. Urban dwellers may have enjoyed the polished image of progress, but for the majority of the state’s residents, the situation was bleak. It was governance on a stage, with little regard for the people who truly mattered. 

Let’s talk about the 2023 elections. For all his bluster and claims of national influence, El-Rufai’s party, the APC, barely scraped by in Kaduna State. In the presidential elections, the PDP triumphed, winning the state with a significant margin. Despite all the resources at El-Rufai’s disposal, the APC came in second, and the governorship election was a nail-biter. Had the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) not granted a two-week extension for the election, the PDP's Ashiru Kudan might well have been the one taking the oath of office. The result was a clear indication that the so-called “legacy” of El-Rufai was hardly the vote-winning juggernaut it was made out to be. 

For a man who has repeatedly demonstrated a complete disregard for judicial pronouncements, particularly when those rulings did not align with his personal agenda, it is difficult to take his newfound commitment to democratic ideals seriously. El-Rufai has never been one to let the rule of law stand in the way of his ambitions. His willingness to disregard judicial decisions when they were inconvenient to him speaks volumes about the kind of leader he is—and it certainly doesn’t fit the mold of a statesman who now claims to be the defender of democracy.

At the end of the day, El-Rufai’s legacy is one of deep contradictions. His ego and ambition have long been his guiding principles, and it’s clear that his current rhetoric is just another chapter in his ongoing self-promotion. But let’s be clear: this is not the kind of leadership Nigeria needs. A leader who alienates entire regions, disrespects the judiciary, and leaves rural poverty to fester in favor of urban spectacle is hardly the person to lecture anyone on governance or morality. So, when Nasir El-Rufai stands on his pedestal, declaring himself the custodian of democracy and good governance, one can only marvel at the audacity—because if there’s one thing his tenure in Kaduna proved, it’s that ego, power, and self-interest are often the greatest enemies of the very ideals he now claims to champion.