How Seyi Makinde’s “Reset Nigeria” Gospel Dies In Oyo | Wale Ajani

As an Oyo indigene, I have listened to the growing chorus around Governor Seyi Makinde’s “Reset Nigeria” message with equal parts disbelief and irritation. I know the state he governs. I know the texture of the promises made to our people. I know the gap between propaganda and reality. And that is why I find this new national marketing deeply insulting.

Before a man begins to sermonize about resetting Nigeria, he should first show us the reset in the state already entrusted to him. That is not hatred. That is not politics. That is common sense. If Oyo was truly transformed—deeply, structurally, and undeniably transformed—then nobody would need to shout about “Reset Nigeria.” Oyo itself would be the loudest campaign poster. But that is not what we have.

What we have instead is a carefully managed image, polished language, selective achievements, and a growing attempt to sell ambition as vision. We are being asked to admire the brand while ignoring the holes in the record. But some of us refuse to be hypnotized by packaging.

Let us speak plainly. This administration has not produced any visible, state-defining revolution in youth development. In a state bursting with intelligent, energetic, frustrated young people, where is the aggressive investment in hard skills, technical skills, digital skills, soft skills, entrepreneurship, and employability? Where is the unmistakable evidence that this government made youth empowerment the centre of its development philosophy rather than a footnote in its speeches? Too many young people in Oyo are still stranded between hope and hardship, listening to promises that never mature into systems.

The same emptiness hangs over scholarships. A government serious about resetting society invests in human capital with boldness. It identifies talent, opens doors, creates ladders, and builds the next generation deliberately. But can anybody honestly say Makinde’s administration has become known for wide scholarship opportunities for Oyo indigenes, whether locally or internationally? Can anybody point to a legacy of academic lifting on the scale that matches his national rhetoric? The answer is no. And that no matters.

Then let us come to the civil service. In Nigeria, we have lowered the bar so shamefully that once a governor pays salaries, some people are ready to call him a reformer. Since when did paying workers become visionary leadership? Salaries and emoluments are basic obligations, not evidence of transformation. A serious government trains its people, retrains them, expands their competence, prepares future managers, and builds a bureaucracy that grows in quality, not just in payroll. But what many have seen in Oyo is an administration that keeps the machine alive without truly remaking it. It pays, yes. But does it build? That is the real question.

Even the Government House itself stands as a silent embarrassment. The very seat of executive authority in Oyo should reflect order, dignity, and purpose. Instead, for too long, it has been spoken of as neglected—an eyesore rather than a symbol of renewal. Some will say that is a minor matter. It is not. Physical neglect often mirrors administrative contradiction. You cannot preach “Reset Nigeria” while the face of your own government tells a story of abandonment.

But all these issues still lead to the larger one: power.

Those of us who have watched this administration closely know that the central story is not just performance. It is control. It is the concentration of authority. It is the instinct to keep too much too close. It is the reduction of governance into something that too often appears dependent on one man’s hand, one man’s nod, one man’s comfort, one man’s dominance. That is not institutional reform. That is dressed-up micromanagement.

And once a government becomes too dependent on one individual, everybody else begins to shrink. Commissioners become careful. Agencies become timid. Initiative dies. Files move upward. Confidence disappears. What should be a living system becomes a chain of waiting rooms. That is not how strong governments are built. That is how weak institutions are maintained under a strong personality.

The damage is felt even more painfully at the local government level. Under a governor who wants Nigerians to trust him with a national reset, local government administration in Oyo should be alive, empowered, and meaningful. Instead, what many see is a layer of governance stripped of vitality and reduced in substance. A man who cannot deepen grassroots administration in his own state has no business preaching national renewal. “Reset Nigeria” should begin from respecting and strengthening governance closest to the people. If that has not happened in Oyo, then the slogan is already hollow.

And let us say what many people whisper: this is not a government that inspires the image of empathy. It inspires the image of command. Too often, the atmosphere around power feels less like collaborative governance and more like managed obedience. Too many people speak of a system where what matters is not independent contribution but alignment, not boldness but compliance, not initiative but submission. That may keep everybody outwardly in line, but it creates a government of puppets, not partners.

No serious nation is rescued by puppet politics.

That is why I am unmoved by the growing attempts to market Seyi Makinde as some exceptional national reformer. Nigeria has fallen for this trick too many times. A politician looks cleaner than the rest, sounds calmer than the rest, speaks grammar better than the rest, and suddenly people begin to project greatness onto him. Then later the country discovers, painfully, that eloquence is not evidence and polish is not proof.

I am not saying nothing has happened in Oyo. That would be childish. But I am saying emphatically that what has happened does not justify the scale of the myth being built. Roads do not automatically equal transformation. Activity does not equal institutional rebirth. Media appeal does not equal mass uplift. One-man control does not equal visionary leadership.

This is why the “Reset Nigeria” gospel dies in Oyo. It dies because the evidence is too thin for the claim. It dies because too many sectors still show more promise than delivery. It dies because youth development lacks the depth of a true revolution. It dies because scholarships have not become a defining instrument of social mobility. It dies because the civil service has not been remade in the image of a modern, high-capacity bureaucracy. It dies because local government has not been empowered as it should be. It dies because too much power appears trapped in one office. And it dies because a message that should have been carried by facts is still being carried mainly by image.

As an Oyo indigene, I do not need slogans. I need evidence. We all do.

If Governor Makinde wants to talk about “Reset Nigeria,” let him first answer the unresolved verdict of Oyo. Let him prove that this state was not merely administered with polish but transformed with depth. Let him show that he built institutions, not just influence. Let him show that he empowered people, not just commanded structures. Let him show that he spread opportunity, not just headlines.

Until then, “Reset Nigeria” remains what too many political messages in this country eventually become: a fine-sounding ambition looking desperately for facts.

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