Olu Allen
We need to talk, my people.
Apparently, one of Nigeria’s pressing political controversies is whether a former vice-president should address the sitting President by his first name.
Not the cost of food. Not insecurity. Not the pressure on household incomes. Not the daily struggle of millions of Nigerians trying to make ends meet.
Bola.
Yes, Bola.
Atiku Abubakar’s repeated references to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu by his first name have provoked criticism from those who consider it disrespectful to the office of the President.
For some, the issue is not merely about etiquette; it is about preserving the dignity of the presidency.
I understand that argument. But I also think it deserves closer examination.
I am Yoruba, and I was raised with the values of omoluabi—the character, courtesy and consideration that should inform how we relate to others. Respect for elders matters. Titles carry meaning. And words, depending on context and intention, can communicate either courtesy or contempt.
But context matters, too.
Atiku is not a random passer-by heckling the President from a street corner. He is a former vice-president, a veteran politician and a contemporary of Tinubu who has spent decades navigating the same political landscape.
Does that automatically make addressing the President as Bola appropriate? Not necessarily. Supporters of Tinubu are entitled to consider it discourteous.
Does it automatically amount to an assault on the dignity of Nigeria? That is a much harder argument to sustain.
We must distinguish between respect for an individual, respect for an office and the political weaponisation of both.
The President is a human being. The presidency is an institution. The two are connected, but they are not interchangeable. Criticism of the President does not automatically diminish the institution, just as defending the institution should not require Nigerians to treat every perceived slight against its occupant as a national crisis.
The real question, therefore, is not whether Atiku’s choice of words is courteous. It is whether we apply our standards of political civility consistently.
Consider Tinubu’s own history as an opposition politician. In March 2011, he used the phrase “drunk sailor fisherman” in criticising President Goodluck Jonathan. In 2019, he described former President Olusegun Obasanjo as “expired meat”.
These were far more colourful expressions than simply calling a political opponent by his first name.
There are differences between the circumstances and contexts of these remarks, and they should not be treated as identical incidents. Nevertheless, they raise a legitimate question about the standards we apply to political speech.
When a politician in our camp deploys harsh language against a president, we may celebrate it as fearless opposition. When a rival uses language we consider disrespectful towards our preferred leader, the same political culture can suddenly become intolerable.
That is the double standard worth examining.
If robust criticism of a president is an accepted feature of democratic politics, then the rules of civility must be applied consistently, regardless of party affiliation. If the office of the President deserves special respect, that principle should not become operative only when the ruling party feels offended.
This does not mean that anything goes. Political leaders should be able to disagree without descending into personal abuse. Courtesy remains a virtue, and public office deserves institutional respect.
But courtesy cannot become a shield against scrutiny, nor should a debate about titles displace a more consequential discussion about governance.
There is also a practical distinction between what is politically unwise and what is inherently disrespectful. Atiku may find that calling Tinubu “Bola” energises his supporters, irritates his opponents or reinforces his image as a political adversary. Others may conclude that the choice is unnecessary and discourteous.
Those are legitimate political judgments.
What is less convincing is the suggestion that the President’s dignity, or the dignity of the Nigerian state, necessarily depends on whether one particular politician uses a formal title.
A title cannot manufacture respect where conduct has failed to earn it. Equally, the omission of a title does not, by itself, establish contempt.
And while politicians debate protocol, Nigerians have more urgent questions.
What is happening to the cost of living? Are wages keeping pace with the rising cost of survival? What measurable progress is being made against insecurity? Are economic reforms translating into improved living standards? Can households and businesses see a credible path towards relief?
These are not peripheral concerns. They are central to the responsibilities of government.
The presidency is not merely an institution to be honoured; it is an institution entrusted with public responsibility. Its occupant must ultimately be judged by the exercise of that responsibility.
That is why the disproportionate energy devoted to a quarrel over a first name deserves scrutiny. Political controversies can be legitimate, but they can also consume public attention without advancing public understanding.
We should be careful not to mistake outrage for accountability or protocol for performance.
If Atiku’s language is discourteous, make that argument. If Tinubu’s supporters believe political leaders should observe stricter standards of public communication, let them defend that principle. But let us apply the same standard to allies and opponents alike.
And let us not allow the argument to become more important than the issues confronting the people in whose name these political battles are fought.
The President’s name is Bola. His office is the presidency. Both facts can coexist without turning a first-name reference into a constitutional crisis.
In a democracy, protocol matters. Civility matters. Cultural values matter.
But consistency matters, too. And when it comes to the presidency, accountability matters most.
Olu Allen writes on public affairs, governance and national development.
