There is a popular saying among young Nigerians, mostly used in the context of romantic relationships: “If he wanted to, he would.” The phrase is a verdict. It strips away every excuse a man offers for why he has not called, shown up, or committed. It implies that if the intention was real, the action would follow.
It is a useful lens for examining President Bola Tinubu’s actions since assuming office nearly three years ago. Since May 2023, the President has demonstrated a pattern so consistent it might as well be a doctrine: whatever Tinubu really wants done gets done, and woe betide whatever and whoever stands in the way.
On his very first day, he announced the end of the petrol subsidy. With little or no consultations, and no easing Nigerians into the grief, subsidy was truly gone. Well, it was reportedly slipped back through another door, a report the government denied. But publicly, it was treated it as gone.
When the tax reforms met fierce opposition, especially from the north, he waited but did not blink. More talks were conducted, compromises were reached but the bills passed. When governors resisted local government financial autonomy, he took the matter to the Supreme Court, won, and sounded a warning that goes “If you delay implementation, blame yourselves for what I’ll do next.” That evening of December 19, 2025, at the APC’s 15th NEC meeting, Tinubu said although he had exercised restraint out of “respect and understanding” for governors, “If you wait for my Executive Order…I have the knife, I have the yam, I will cut it.”
Again, when he signed the Electoral Act 2026 barely 24 hours after the National Assembly passed it, it came as a shock to many Nigerians who thought he would at least let the ink dray on the bill. It is safe to say that if something has not happened under Tinubu, it is either because the President doesn’t think it’s time yet, or he does not want it done.
Today, we are here with state police.
For over two years, the idea of decentralising Nigeria’s policing architecture had been shuffling through paperwork. Governors endorsed it in February 2024. The National Economic Council had been “taking note” and pushing the debate throughout 2025. In my column on April 20, 2025, I compared the delays around the state police issue to the Kursk submarine disaster of August 2000 where the poor sailors desperately awaited rescue as the world above them played politics. When the politicians were done arguing and help finally came, they met 118 cold bodies buried on the ocean floor. At the time of that writing, as is still the case Today, communities in Kwara, Plateau and Benue, etc. are still drowning in blood while the state police issue remains on white paper.
In the first week of Ramadan, barely a year to the 2027 elections, Tinubu decided the fasting season would double as lobbying season.
On Monday, at the first Iftar with governors, the President declared: “What I promise you is not to be postponed. We will establish state police to combat insecurity. Start looking around you.”
While speaking on Monday, he had asked the Inspector-General of Police to resign. On Wednesday, he turned to the senators: “What I am asking for tonight is for you to start thinking how best to amend the Constitution to incorporate state police for us to secure our country, take over our forests from marauders, free our children from fear.” It was less of an appeal and more of an instruction delivered over dinner. By Friday, with House of Representatives members, he was even more specific, acknowledging the historical concerns about abuse: “Amend it, not a straight free fall for everybody, tie it in a way that will not be abused like in the past,” he said.
Three iterations of the same issue in under a week is worth looking at. The President was taking the conversation about state police to the most spiritually significant period on the Islamic calendar. But before that, he had to clear one obstacle.
On that same Monday evening, as governors filed into the Presidential Villa for the first breaking of fast, I observed the IGP’s official vehicle, a Toyota Land Cruiser with number plate NPF-01, pull into the forecourt at around 6:40 pm. Kayode Egbetokun, dressed in his black uniform without his cap, alighted and turned back to collect a notepad from an aide.
Within hours, the Presidency confirmed that Tinubu had summoned him and told him he must go. Sources would later reveal to me that Egbetokun’s sudden exit was not sudden at all.
Having tacitly and expressly opposed the state police agenda and the withdrawal of the police personnel from VIPs, the president did not see it fit to keep him at the helm of affairs any more.
On Wednesday, I watched Egbetokun’s replacement, Olatunji Disu, make his triumphal entry into the Villa for his decoration. After the ceremony, as both men walked away from the forecourt, I noticed something striking. Egbetokun, seemingly engrossed in a chat, instinctively walked toward the vehicle he was used to, the NPF-01 SUV with the police flag mounted on it. However, an aide gently redirected him. He was led into a different SUV with no number plate or flag of an IGP, and whisked away from the forecourt with speed.
It was a small moment, but it said everything. It meant the end of a long career. But for the president, it was one less obstacle to his agenda. In the days that followed, Tinubu continued preaching his gospel of state police to anyone ready to break the Ramadan fast with him.
We hope he works the talk.
