OPINION… DAVID ỤMAHI: Ministers, mirrors and the madness of power

If you need a masterclass on how to turn a national television interview into a total meltdown of ministerial arrogance, you could go to David Ụmahi, Nigeria’s Minister of Works. The man not only attended Rufai Oseni’s interview on Arise TV – he also exploded on live TV.

Here is a journalist asking the most basic accountability question: “Sir, how much?” The question was basic and straightforward – a simple request for transparency regarding the costs of the controversial Coastal Highway project. In a country drowning in soaring contracts and lost trillions of dollars, all Rufai Oseni did was ask the obvious: “What is the price per kilometer?” Any official who is truly confident in his leadership should welcome the opportunity to clarify.

However, this is Nigeria, and in true Nigerian political style, David Ụmahi hears insults instead of asking questions and responds with arrogance, condescension, defensiveness and aggressiveness. So, what was intended as an attempt to provide clarity – an opportunity to reveal the truth to the citizens he served – became a mirror reflecting the arrogance and instability of Nigeria’s ruling class. The man gets angry, barks, and bulldozes through questions that should have simple, data-backed answers. He grumbled, grumbled and finger-wagged ministers – classic behavior of political elites who believe that questioning them is blasphemy. But in Nigeria, accountability is treated like a foreign virus and transparency is a taboo word only uttered in donor reports.

Ụmahi’s performance is a true reflection of the Nigerian political class in all its megalomaniac glory – the egotistical agbada who cannot stand the insolence of ordinary people asking where their tax naira has gone. For them, government is not an obligation; it’s a divine right. Ask them, and you will quickly be reminded that you are a “little child” in the presence of emperors. This is the paradox of our politics: those who are supposed to answer the questions regard the investigation as an act of insolence. They spoke not as servants but as rulers, insulted by the audacity of citizens who dared to question how their resources were spent.

So, Ụmahi’s meeting with Rufai Oseni was not just a heated debate on national television – it was a window into the soul of Nigeria’s political class. What viewers saw was not a one-off incident, but a symptom of a larger institutional weakness: an elite group allergic to accountability. This hostility reflects the entrenched culture of impunity that controls Nigeria’s public sector. For many people in power, being questioned by journalists or private citizens is seen as a violation of hierarchy. They view government as a privilege, not an obligation.

But maybe, just maybe, there is another angle – a tragicomic subplot to this Shakespearean farce. There are ethnic and psychological dimensions worth considering. You see, Ụmahi doesn’t just appear angry. He arrived burdened with the trauma of living as an Igbo man in the political jungle of Nigeria. For many Igbo politicians working within Nigeria’s federal structure, there has always been a tension between ethnic identity and national loyalty. The ongoing detention of Nnamdi Kanu, leader of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), stands in stark contrast to the fate of other regional agitators. This is a double standard that has not gone unnoticed in the Southeast.

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Nnamdi Kanu is still detained somewhere in Abuja, wasting away in a legal limbo that strangely has no impact on other instigators. Sunday Igboho followed the same route, leaving Nigeria, returning, and now enjoying champagne in the sun. However, Kanu remains beholden to his country’s double standards, much like modern-day Prometheus.

And as if fate continues to taunt him, one of his Igbo brothers, Geoffrey Uche Nnaji, Minister of Innovation, Science and Technology, has just resigned over – wait for it – certificate forgery. Ironically? He submitted his own resignation to the Grand Oracle. You can’t make this up! You couldn’t make this script in Nollywood – it would be rejected as too much.

So yeah, maybe Ụmahi’s outburst on national TV wasn’t just arrogance – perhaps it was the pressure cooker that finally exploded. Perhaps a deeper frustration with the contradictions of the system he serves and the emotional toll it takes. Between watching his brothers suffer and seeing the horrific hypocrisy of the system he voted for, perhaps something is brewing inside Umahi. Maybe the man had run out of dignity to defend such strange and unreasonable things. But it was a kind of Hail Mary pass for Umahi, one that he could only score if he had the same Igbo spirit.

If Ụmahi were the type of Igbo whose blood still boils with communal and familial consciousness, he would see Kanu and Nnaji’s ordeal as a wound on his own soul. But no, Ụmahi’s loyalties lay elsewhere. Long ago he exchanged the dark red cloth that symbolized kinship for a green-white-green toga that symbolized devotion and obedience. If David Ụmahi were a man of deep ethnic empathy, his anger might have been a legitimate anger – a protest against the injustices befalling his people. And that’s understandable.

But let’s be clear: understanding is not exoneration. Ụmahi’s outburst caused national embarrassment. He didn’t just embarrass himself; he reminded Nigerians that so-called “leaders” often misinterpret public service as the domain of personal fiefdom. Frustration does not justify incivility. A public official’s job is to maintain calm and transparency, not lecture the public about how small he is. And despite much talk about becoming an “Engineer,” Ụmahi has yet to master the basic mechanics of humility. The man preferred to bulldoze his way through the interview rather than build trust with the public. Therefore, a man who appeared on TV to talk about the public way ended up paving his own way to public embarrassment.

So, no, David Ụmahi did not get permission. He got a plaque in Nigeria’s Hall of Infamy, right next to other officials who treated accountability like an insult. He is a perfect example of the political elite who believe that society exists to applaud, not to ask questions.

In the end, Rufai Oseni did not just interview a minister; he reveals thought patterns. And David Ụmahi, for all his bluster, gives us the perfect image for our times: a chorus of entitlement echoing from the corridors of power, drowning out the faintest whispers of responsibility. Nigeria needs leaders who understand that public service is not an arena of egos, but a platform for accountability. Unfortunately, the Minister of Public Works’ presentation reminds us that the journey towards this goal is still long.

In the final analysis, Ụmahi’s outburst was not just an act of impulse but a revealing one: that behind every loud-mouthed minister there is a fragile ego, afraid of the tenacity of the silent truth. Power in Nigeria is not a calling, but a costume – power that often hides insecurity behind a bluff. When a public servant cannot handle a simple question about costs, that is not leadership. That is cowardice wearing the agbada. Ụmahi’s outburst was more than just rude behavior; this is proof that our leaders see themselves as kings, not administrators. In a sane country, that interview would be career-ending. In Nigeria, this will probably earn him a handshake at the next FEC meeting. And that, my friends, more than anything, shows why we’re stuck.

By: Dr. Vitus Ozoke, a lawyer, human rights activist, and public commentator living in the United States.