Kwara: From Intellectual Leadership to Politics of Exclusion
By Wahab Oba
The true measure of leadership is not merely the offices occupied or the elections won. It is found in the quality of thought a leader brings to governance, the calibre of people he attracts and the institutions he builds. History often preserves small moments that illuminate these qualities far better than political manifestos ever can.
Standing before late President Muhammadu Buhari and fellow lawmakers, Dr. Abubakar Bukola Saraki introduced senators one after another, mentioning their full names and constituencies extempore.
Yes, all 107 senators; without holding a note and just a few months after taking the oath of office.
That singular moment captured an undeniable truth about Saraki: his extraordinary command of people, institutions and ideas. It was not merely a display of memory, but evidence of a leader who invests time in understanding those he leads, appreciates the intricacies of governance and possesses an uncommon grasp of the dynamics of public service.
Saraki represented a brand of politics anchored on intellect and responsibility. He surrounded himself with economists, lawyers, academics, technocrats and policy experts. He understood that governance was not a popularity contest but a serious undertaking requiring vision, competence and strategic thinking.
Under his leadership, politics in Kwara was robust, competitive and a market place of meaningful ideas. Young people were mentored. Professionals were encouraged to participate. Human capital development was not a slogan; it was a governing philosophy.
Many beneficiaries of that era may disagree on politics today, but they cannot deny that opportunities existed for people to grow, contribute and aspire.
But Saraki’s influence extended beyond Kwara. As Senate President, he became one of the most recognisable political figures in Nigeria. Even outside office, he remains relevant in national conversations on democracy, economy, restructuring and governance.
His political staying power lies not merely in networks but in his intellectual depth and ability to engage complex issues.
Kwara was not perfect then. No administration is. But kwara had a recognisable voice in the national discourse. At home, there was a sense of inclusion, a sense of direction, an openness to ideas and a deliberate commitment to cultivating talent.
There was a clearly defined vision of where Kwara should be in the foreseeable future and a conscious effort to lay the foundations for sustainable growth.
Projects were not conceived merely to score political points; they were designed to transform the state’s economic and social landscape. They were products of strategic thinking and long-term planning. The Aviation College, for instance, was established with a clear and ambitious vision.
It was not just meant to be another educational institution or a commercial venture. The objective was to position Kwara as the aviation hub in the North Central Nigeria; a centre for aviation training, innovation and manpower development. The idea was simple but profound: build people, attract investments, create jobs and grow the state’s economy.
Similarly, the Kwara State University, Malete, with a department of of Aeronautical Engineering to support the Aviation College, was not established merely to add to the number of universities in Nigeria. It was conceived as a unique institution with a strong focus on entrepreneurship and innovation.
The vision was to produce graduates who would become job creators rather than job seekers; young men and women equipped with the skills, confidence and entrepreneurial spirit to drive economic growth.
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Beyond academics, the university was strategically located to stimulate the economy of Malete and its surrounding communities. What was once a quiet rural settlement has grown into a vibrant university town with expanding commercial activities, improved infrastructure and new economic opportunities. The institution was designed not only to educate minds but also to transform communities.
These projects reflected a broader philosophy of governance: that development is not measured merely by the number of projects commissioned, but by the quality of lives improved and the opportunities created for future generations. There was a vision. There was a roadmap. There was a deliberate effort to prepare Kwara not just for the present, but for the future.
The state had ambitions beyond politics. Leadership was expected to think ahead, invest in people and build institutions that would outlive those who conceived them; not to act as bulldozers, destroying legacies in pursuit of political vengeance or fleeting applause, but to improve on what exists and create something greater for generations yet unborn.
That, perhaps, is the greatest difference between Kwara then and Kwara now: the difference between governance driven by long-term vision and governance consumed by vengeance and arrogance.
Today, the atmosphere is different.
Alade came into office promising a new order. Yet, years into his administration, the promise of inclusiveness has gradually given way to a politics of exclusion.
Where intellectual engagement once flourished, conformity now appears more valued. Where broad consultations once shaped decisions, a narrow circle of influence is often alleged to dominate governance. Where politics once created opportunities for diverse voices, many now complain of alienation and marginalization.
Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than in the civil service, once regarded as one of the strongest pillars of governance in Kwara. Increasingly, concerns have been raised that the bureaucracy has been weakened rather than strengthened.
Instead of investing confidence in career civil servants and building institutional capacity, consultants are frequently engaged to perform functions traditionally handled by trained public officers. This has created the perception that the expertise and experience of the state’s workforce are no longer sufficiently valued.
More troubling are allegations that promotions and appointments have become influenced by political considerations rather than merit, competence and seniority. These perceptions have affected morale and diminished the confidence that once defined the service.
A civil service thrives on professionalism, predictability and fairness. When these values are undermined, the consequences extend beyond the workforce; governance itself suffers.
The tragedy is not merely political.
It is developmental. A state cannot maximize its potential when talent is sidelined because of political differences. Progress is rarely achieved by isolating experienced voices or treating dissent as disloyalty.
The greatest leaders do not fear strong opinions. They invite them. They do not surround themselves with praise singers. They challenge themselves with competing ideas.
Saraki understood this. His politics was about building networks, empowering people and nurturing future leaders. His critics accused him of many things, but very few questioned his intellect, his grasp of governance or his ability to assemble some of the brightest minds around him.
That is why, years after leaving office, he remains a reference point in discussions about leadership.
The question before Kwarans today is not merely who occupies Government House. The question is: What kind of leadership does Kwara deserve? Leadership that unites or leadership that divides? Leadership that cultivates talent or leadership that rewards loyalty above competence? Leadership that welcomes ideas or leadership that fears dissent?
Kwara has experienced both eras.
And as history unfolds, its people will ultimately decide which path better serves their aspirations.
For in the end, governments come and go. But the consequences of leadership, good or bad, remain with generations.
