The silence of a good man: Tribute to Muhammadu Buhari

There are men whose lives resonate not by the thunder of their words, but by the quiet resolve of their actions. Former President Muhammadu Buhari was such a man. Now laid to eternal rest, his name continues to stir debate, reverence, and regret—not because he betrayed the people, but perhaps because he did not speak loudly enough for them to know his heart.

Buhari was a paradox—a Spartan soul in a sea of extravagance. He ascended to power not on the promise of eloquence or populist bravado, but on the austere credibility of his person. In a political culture where wealth is the language of influence, he remained famously indifferent to riches. He wore his simplicity like a badge, carried his discipline like a creed, and pursued a corruption-free Nigeria like a calling.

In his private dealings, few leaders matched his personal restraint. Even his harshest critics concede that Muhammadu Buhari did not seek the trappings of office for selfish gain. He leaves behind no tales of hidden fortunes or offshore estates, no whispers of kickbacks or cronyism for his children. His post-presidency life, as quiet as the man himself, affirms what many already knew: that he came to serve, not to seize.

And yet, for all this goodness, his silence haunts us.

He was silent when a word might have steadied the nation. He was silent when the vultures circled the ideals he professed. He was silent when the corrupt manipulated his name to cleanse their sins. He was silent as his appointees and allies, in many instances, betrayed the very spirit of his anti-corruption crusade.

This silence, dignified though it may have been, has become the loudest echo of his legacy.

In the political theatre of Nigeria, silence is rarely empty. It is a drumbeat others dance to. In Buhari’s silence, opportunists found room to roam, to scheme, to distort his vision. His reluctance to publicly correct, confront, or condemn the excesses of those within his orbit led many to question his moral alignment—not because he changed, but because he allowed others to define his narrative.

It is here that history draws a painful line between a good man and a great leader.

Leadership, especially in a fractured society like ours, is not merely the preservation of personal virtue. It is the active, vocal, visible defence of the common good—a shield for the weak, a sword against the corrupt, and a voice that speaks when silence would be taken as surrender.

Buhari had the shield. He had the sword. But too often, he sheathed them both in silence.

And still, we must honour the man. For what he lacked in rhetorical flourish, he embodied in sincerity. In an age where greed masquerades as governance, his Spartan life was a rare sermon in self-control. In a political arena where loyalty is sold to the highest bidder, his allegiance to principle—however stoic and at times inflexible—was unwavering.

To young Nigerians who seek a model of discipline in public life, Muhammadu Buhari remains a powerful symbol. To those disillusioned by flamboyant leadership and empty promises, he offered a different kind of ideal—one that valued integrity over image, and nationhood over personal gain.

But even ideals need defenders. And ideals, left undefended, become relics of what might have been.

This is the lesson we must take from his life: goodness alone does not suffice in leadership. Goodness must be bold. It must be audible. It must be as aggressive in its defence as evil is in its advance.

In the end, Muhammadu Buhari shaped our national conversation in an extraordinary way. He redefined what was possible in political simplicity. He reminded us that leadership can be clean. He inspired a new standard—and left a warning in the void his silence created.

He lived quietly. He led firmly. He leaves us reflectively.

May history judge him justly. May Nigeria learn from his strengths. And may future leaders learn from his silence.

Rest well, President Muhammadu Buhari. In our hearts and in our history, your quiet service echoes still.

Dr. Audu is a Nigerian.