A new era in the Nigerian Correctional Service with the visionary leadership of Tunji-Ojo

@s430media @tobyasky She's already making it about race by trying to compare it to Megan Markle situation. Very annoying thing.

This 👏🏾👏🏾

Laughter can be political evidence. On Monday in Akure, it did quite work. Governor Lucky Aiyedatiwa leaned in; Olubunmi Tunji-Ojo smiled back. Because no handlers hovered, and cameras caught their ease. For Ondo watchers, that moment mattered.

First time watching my favourite club @arsenal play live since i started supporting them in 2003 🥲❤️ . Thank you @princeonward 🙏🏻 for the ticket, you made one of my dreams come through, i am very grateful.🫱🏻‍🫲🏾 . Thank you @hrm_tomiwa 🙏🏻 for the warm reception and hospitality plus

And if we keep excusing it, we should not be surprised when society mirrors the same chaos its leaders normalise. ✌🏽

Ondo State deserves better. Nigeria deserves better. Politics must not be allowed to turn humans into rogues and public servants into apologists for disorder. Power without humanity is not leadership, it is organised decay.

If public officials cannot separate loyalty from lawlessness, then governance becomes hostage to recklessness. And when civic spaces become arenas of fear rather than celebration, democracy itself is diminished.

Yet, in Nigeria, politics increasingly operates like a moral vacuum, where the loudest bully wins, and conscience is dismissed as weakness.

Politics should never require the burial of humanity. It should not demand that people switch off compassion, civility, and restraint the moment they acquire power.

The absolute failure is elite complicity, the moment educated, privileged individuals abandon fundamental human values in exchange for political validation.

The real tragedy is not the thugs themselves. Thuggery thrives because it is sponsored, protected, and rationalised by people who should know better.

When aides encourage chaos without consequences, morality is officially suspended.

This is how rogue personalities are manufactured. Not overnight, but gradually, through silence, tolerance, and applause. When thugs disrupt public events and are defended instead of condemned, society absorbs the lesson that brute force is a political asset.

When aides and appointees behave this way, it sends a chilling message: that political relevance justifies bad behaviour, and proximity to power excuses indecency.

The Ondo incident is symbolic, as a golden jubilee should have been about shared pride across political divides. Instead, it reportedly became another theatre where power was flexed through intimidation.

Respect disappears. Decency becomes optional. What matters is dominance, who controls the space, the narrative, the moment.

Politics, in its ugliest form, trains people to see others not as fellow citizens but as obstacles, enemies, or expendable tools. Once political identity overrides human identity, empathy dies.

How does one move so easily from being a citizen with conscience to an enabler of intimidation, thuggery, and public disgrace? The answer lies in how Nigerian politics rewards dehumanisation.

How does a public official, entrusted with responsibility and privilege, find justification in encouraging disorder at a civic celebration?