In the theatre of power, nothing corrodes credibility faster than the appearance of confusion. What Nigeria witnessed over the last two weeks; the release, backlash, and hurried withdrawal of President Bola Tinubu’s clemency list, was not simply an administrative misstep. It was a moral debacle, a symptom of a government adrift in its own indecision. The President’s belated U-turn, following national outrage over the inclusion of drug traffickers, illegal arms dealers, and convicted murderers in his “prerogative of mercy,” was not an act of humility; it was an act of embarrassment. It was the inevitable retreat of an administration that governs by reaction, not reflection.
This latest scandal does not stand alone. It is part of a pattern of U-turns, withdrawals, and reversals that have come to define the Tinubu presidency. In barely sixteen months, Nigerians have watched with weary disbelief as key appointments and decisions were announced in the morning and nullified by nightfall – from ministerial nominations to agency reshuffles, from FERMA to NTA, from the CBN board to the Finance Ministry’s ill-fated renaming. This habit of governance by reversal is more than clumsy optics; it betrays a deeper malaise – the absence of coordination, due process, and moral clarity at the heart of the State. In a nation already reeling from insecurity, inflation, and institutional fatigue, such inconsistency breeds cynicism and corrodes trust. When a government cannot manage its own decisions, it cannot claim to manage the destiny of 200 million people.
The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (Section 175) vests the President with the Prerogative of Mercy, a sacred constitutional power designed not for political appeasement but for the redemptive administration of justice. It is meant to heal, not to mock justice. Instead, this administration turned that power into a spectacle of impunity. Nigerians were rightly horrified when names of convicted drug traffickers, kidnappers, and murderers appeared on a list of those to be “forgiven.” The outrage was instantaneous, because the moral absurdity was unmistakable. Who compiled this list? Who vetted it? Did the Attorney General, Lateef Fagbemi (SAN), sign off without scrutiny, or was the President too distracted to read what he approved? These are not trivial questions. They strike at the very core of executive accountability. For a government that preaches discipline, to even consider pardoning hardened criminals while victims still mourn is to trample on justice itself. A pardon without remorse is not mercy; it is mockery.
The hurried reversal announced by the Attorney General was framed as “justice balanced with compassion.” In truth, it was a public relations fire drill. The President’s handlers sought to contain the flames of outrage, not to rekindle conscience. As former Vice President Atiku Abubakar rightly observed, the U-turn was not an act of wisdom but an act of shame. Leadership is conviction, not correction after chaos. When a President governs by echo – listening only when the streets roar – he becomes a captive of noise, not a steward of principle. Tinubu’s defenders call it responsiveness. But a pattern of serial reversals is not responsiveness; it is administrative panic. It suggests that decisions emanate not from vision, but from impulse. That is not governance; it is improvisation masquerading as leadership.
Beyond procedure, this debacle raises grave moral questions. Several reports suggest that political influence and patronage infiltrated the clemency process, that loyalists and financiers of the ruling elite smuggled their associates onto the list. If true, it reveals an administration willing to trade national security and moral integrity for political convenience. The result is predictable: a justice system that bends for the powerful and breaks for the powerless. How can this government preach the rule of law while almost releasing those who break it most egregiously? How can the Commander-in-Chief lecture citizens on discipline while flirting with lawlessness in high places? The moral authority of the state is not only exercised in policy but in perception. Once lost, it is almost impossible to reclaim.
That this episode reached the stage of publication in the Official Gazette before sanity prevailed is alarming. It indicates a complete collapse of internal checks. Governance requires not just decision-making but deliberation, filtration, and validation. Every list of presidential pardons must pass through rigorous vetting by security, judicial, and prosecutorial authorities. That the Attorney General now promises to relocate the Advisory Committee on the Prerogative of Mercy to his ministry is itself an admission of prior negligence. In the words of the old Latin maxim, “Quod ab initio non valet, in tractu temporis non convalescit” – what is void at inception cannot be made valid by time. The pardon list was flawed from the start; no amount of bureaucratic massaging can redeem its initial moral failure.
It is not enough to revise the list. Accountability demands consequences. Human rights groups like HURIWA have rightly called for the resignation of the Attorney General, whose ministry ought to have been the first line of defense against such embarrassment. In saner climes, such an error – one that undermines justice and endangers public safety – would have compelled a minister to resign. But in Nigeria, resignation has been exiled from the vocabulary of responsibility. If the President truly believes in reform, he must begin at home: by demanding competence, discipline, and moral rigor from those who serve him.
The clemency fiasco fits a recurring script – one of trial, error, outrage, and retreat. It has become the Tinubu administration’s operating manual. The NTA debacle, the FERMA reversal, the withdrawn INEC nominations – all point to a presidency trapped in improvisation. A government that perpetually revises itself cannot inspire confidence. Public administration is not a rehearsal; it is the performance itself. And Nigeria’s audience; long-suffering, disillusioned, and restless, is tired of watching leaders stumble on the same stage. The President must learn that credibility is a finite currency. It is spent every time the government acts before thinking and reverses after embarrassment. Henceforth, every decision must undergo three tests before it bears the Presidential seal: Legality – is it in accordance with law and due process? Morality – does it serve justice and the public good? Perception – how will it be received by a weary and skeptical public?
Beyond that, the Prerogative of Mercy must be institutionalized, depoliticized, and transparent. Future clemency exercises should be published in advance for stakeholder input, not hidden in the dark corridors of power. Mercy, when divorced from justice, becomes moral anarchy. Clemency, when guided by politics, becomes complicity. President Tinubu’s administration stands today indicted by its own indecision. Governance by reversal is governance by confusion, and confusion, in the end, is corruption of purpose. Nigeria deserves better than leaders who apologize after outrage. We deserve foresight, not hindsight; conviction, not correction. Because a nation that must shout before its President listens, is a nation already on mute.