By Abdullahi O. Haruna Haruspice
In times of political tension, silence can be golden. So can restraint. Unfortunately, Reno Omokri—once admired for his incisive defense of the Jonathan administration and now a fervent, sometimes frenzied, supporter of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu—seems to have missed that memo.
In recent months, Omokri has become a one-man digital firing squad, spraying verbal bullets at opposition figures, critics, and even phantom enemies of the president. From hourly tweets to late-night videos, his aggressive commentaries have ceased to be persuasive. They are now simply abrasive. What was once sharp political commentary has curdled into online hostility, and what could have been used as a strategic tool to win hearts and minds now reads like a personal vendetta dressed in hashtags.
Let it be clear: political advocacy is not a crime. Defending one’s ideals or political principal is a legitimate democratic right. In fact, robust discourse is the fuel that powers any thriving democracy. But there’s a difference between strategic engagement and reactive vitriol. Omokri’s tone, frequency, and ever-growing hostility increasingly fall into the realm of the latter. It is no longer political communication—it is digital badgering.
It becomes even more confounding when one considers that many of those Omokri now attacks are key actors in a rising coalition that may shape Nigeria’s future political realignment. His unrelenting jabs don’t weaken the opposition; they embolden them. Worse still, they send the wrong signal from the president’s corner. It creates the impression that Tinubu’s camp is edgy, insecure, and unable to tolerate constructive opposition—a perception that is dangerous in a democracy and even more perilous in a country as divided as Nigeria.
This isn’t just bad strategy. It’s disastrous optics.
What the Tinubu administration needs at this moment is not a self-appointed social media warrior who sees every dissenting opinion as an existential threat. What it needs are composed, articulate voices that can sell the government’s reforms, explain policy decisions, and respond to criticisms without descending into the gutters. Emotional maturity and political tact—not tantrums—are what convince voters and calm political tempests.
Let’s be honest: Reno Omokri’s attacks no longer serve any constructive purpose. They are not bridging gaps. They are not strengthening democracy. They are not even winning political points. If anything, they are alienating potential allies, hardening the opposition, and painting the administration he supports as one allergic to criticism.
To complicate matters further, Omokri’s words today often contradict what he said yesterday. He has danced across ideological lines so many times that it’s difficult to determine what he actually stands for—other than himself. One day he is defending a policy with fire and brimstone; the next, he is doubling back in contradiction, with equal fervor. In this endless stream of contradictions, trust becomes a casualty. It is hard—almost impossible—to trust a man who speaks so loudly and so often, even when the echoes of his yesterday’s statements still linger.
At this critical juncture in Nigeria’s democracy, what the nation needs are voices of reason, not rabble. We need communicators, not combatants. People who can build bridges—not torch them. Strategies aimed at winning the hearts of voters should be the order of the day, not per-minute vituperations and personal vendettas. Almost every major opposition figure Omokri attacks has a political structure and grassroots base. The same cannot be said of Reno. His power begins and ends on social media.
This is why, with all due respect, I believe Reno Omokri should just shut up for now.
His constant ranting is not helping the president. It is not building consensus. It is not inspiring confidence. It is, instead, fanning the flames of division, and distracting from the real work of governance. A time comes when a man must realize that the mouth was not made solely for speaking—it was also designed to close, especially when silence serves a greater purpose.
Reno, this is that time. Keep quiet—for the good of your credibility, and perhaps, for the good of the president you claim to defend.
Frankly musing.
