Every democracy occasionally presents a defining moment that reveals not merely the disposition of those who govern but also the resilience of the democratic culture they profess to uphold. The recent controversy arising from the meeting between President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Nigeria is one such moment. Unfortunately, what should have remained an instructive conversation on governance has been transformed into an unnecessary confrontation by Mr. Temitope Ajayi, the President’s Senior Special Assistant on Media and Publicity, who accused Cardinal John Onaiyekan of ‘abusing clerical privilege’ for granting a television interview after the meeting.
That accusation deserves a response-not because Cardinal Onaiyekan is incapable of defending himself, but because it raises a more fundamental question: who truly abused privilege?
The Cardinal’s supposed offence was that he publicly reflected on his understanding of the engagement with the President. Yet nowhere has it been suggested that the meeting was confidential, classified or conducted under any agreement prohibiting public comment. Across the democratic world, groups that meet presidents routinely brief the media afterwards. Governors do it. Labour leaders do it. Traditional rulers do it. Civil society organisations do it.
International diplomats do it. Religious leaders have always done it. Such briefings are not acts of betrayal; they are recognised components of democratic accountability.
If government reserved the right to narrate every meeting while other participants remained silent, public engagement would cease to be dialogue and become official propaganda. Democracy recognises no such monopoly.
More troubling is the implication that a religious leader forfeits his civic rights once he enters the Presidential Villa. Cardinal Onaiyekan attended that meeting not merely as a cleric but as part of an organised national institution representing millions of Nigerians. Those citizens are entitled to know what concerns were raised on their behalf and how the President responded.
Explaining that exchange cannot reasonably be described as misconduct.
Mr. Ajayi’s response betrays an uncomfortable sensitivity to criticism. Rather than confronting the substance of the bishops’ concerns, he devoted considerable energy to questioning the propriety of the messenger. That is a familiar tactic in political communication. When inconvenient questions become difficult to answer, attention shifts to those asking them. Yet democracy is strengthened by answering criticism, not by discrediting critics.
To be fair, Mr. Ajayi makes one valid point. Governing Nigeria is infinitely harder than commenting on it. No reasonable Nigerian should underestimate the burden confronting any administration. President Tinubu inherited serious structural economic distortions, mounting debt obligations, subsidy complications and an entrenched security crisis. Any objective observer must acknowledge that governing Africa’s largest democracy offers no easy victories.
But difficulty cannot become immunity.
Governments exist precisely because problems require solutions. Citizens do not surrender their right to complain simply because governance is complicated. If hardship persists, insecurity remains widespread and living standards continue to decline for many families, neither religious leaders nor ordinary citizens should be expected to suppress their observations in deference to official sensitivities.
Mr. Ajayi argues that the President possesses intelligence unavailable to the bishops and therefore has a more accurate understanding of security realities. That is undoubtedly correct. Presidents receive classified security briefings beyond public reach. Yet intelligence reports do not replace lived experience. The parent afraid to send a child to school, the farmer unable to cultivate because of armed attacks, the commuter fearful of highways and the entrepreneur crippled by economic uncertainty do not require classified intelligence to interpret their own reality. Governments measure success through statistics; citizens measure it through daily survival. Both perspectives matter. Neither invalidates the other.
The attempt to lecture Cardinal Onaiyekan on the biblical qualifications of bishops is perhaps the weakest aspect of Mr. Ajayi’s intervention. A presidential spokesman venturing into theological interpretation to define the proper conduct of one of Nigeria’s most respected clerics is neither necessary nor persuasive. Governments should govern. Churches should interpret doctrine. The unnecessary fusion of both weakens rather than strengthens official argument.
Even more disturbing is the subtle suggestion that because President Tinubu reads newspapers, watches television and receives intelligence reports, external voices become less relevant. Nothing could be further from democratic practice. Every President benefits from institutional feedback, but no government has ever possessed a monopoly on truth. History repeatedly demonstrates that official briefings, however comprehensive, sometimes fail to capture the anxieties, frustrations and aspirations of ordinary citizens. Independent voices remain indispensable precisely because they are independent.
The Catholic bishops neither claimed infallibility nor exclusive ownership of Nigeria’s conscience. They presented their assessment of national affairs exactly as organised labour, professional bodies, market associations and civil society organisations routinely do. Government was equally entitled to disagree. That should have been the end of the matter. The moment disagreement is recast as misconduct, democratic tolerance begins to erode.
There is an irony Mr. Ajayi appears to have overlooked. His paper accuses Cardinal Onaiyekan of abusing privilege, yet it is written from one of the most privileged offices in the land. Few citizens enjoy unrestricted access to national media, presidential platforms and official information. Such access should encourage restraint rather than provoke confrontation with those exercising their constitutional freedoms. Public office carries immense influence; it should therefore exercise corresponding humility.
One also wonders whether this official response unintentionally validates the bishops’ concerns. Their intervention centred on hardship, insecurity and the condition of the nation. Instead of sustaining public discussion on those substantive matters, government communication shifted attention to whether a bishop should have granted an interview. Nigerians deserve better. They expect debates on policy outcomes, not arguments over who is permitted to speak.
Our democracy is still evolving. Its durability will depend not on unanimous agreement but on the maturity with which disagreement is managed. Governments confident in their legitimacy do not fear scrutiny from the pulpit, the newsroom, the university or civil society. They answer criticism with facts, performance and persuasion-not with suggestions that critics have overstepped invisible boundaries.
Cardinal Onaiyekan may be right. He may be wrong. So may President Tinubu. That is the nature of democratic discourse. What should concern every Nigerian, however, is any attempt-however subtle-to imply that respected citizens should remain silent after engaging those in authority.
In the final analysis, the issue is no longer Cardinal Onaiyekan’s interview. It is whether democratic Nigeria will preserve a public square where citizens, regardless of vocation or status, may speak honestly about governance without being accused of abusing privileges they do not possess.
The Presidency commands respect because of the Constitution, not because it is beyond criticism. Likewise, religious leaders command influence because of moral persuasion, not because they are beyond disagreement. Neither institution serves Nigeria well by seeking to diminish the other. Our democracy will be stronger when both recognise that accountability is not an act of hostility but the highest expression of patriotism.