Reno Omokri: Patriot Or Stomach Infrastructure Apostle? -By Isaac Asabor

In Nigeria’s tumultuous political landscape, where loyalty shifts like the wind and ideology often takes a backseat to self-preservation, Reno Omokri stands as a glaring symbol of the contradiction between public advocacy and personal ambition. Once a fierce critic of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, branding him with allegations as damning as drug baronry and unfitness for leadership, Omokri has now assumed the curious position of a vocal supporter of the same man. As if that somersault was not enough, he has taken on a new self-assigned role: unrepentant antagonist of Peter Obi, the Labour Party presidential candidate.

Given the foregoing contradictory disposition, one is compelled to ask: Is Reno Omokri motivated by genuine patriotism, or are his recent political maneuvers a reflection of the infamous Nigerian phenomenon often described as “stomach infrastructure”?

Ahead of the 2023 elections, Reno Omokri was one of the most vocal Nigerians in diaspora who spared no breath in warning the world about Bola Tinubu. Using his vast social media reach and international presence, he painted Tinubu as a man unworthy of public trust, alluding to his alleged connections to drug trafficking and his opaque political history. Omokri went as far as staging protests in London and mobilizing online campaigns to dissuade Nigerians at home and abroad from voting for the APC candidate.

The question now is, what changed as the allegations Omokri once weaponized have neither been debunked nor addressed. Yet, Omokri has seemingly made peace with the very man he once branded as unworthy of power. The sudden shift is not only baffling but also symptomatic of a broader malaise in Nigeria’s political class: ideological bankruptcy.

To say Omokri’s transformation is suspicious is an understatement. His change of heart did not occur after a public apology from Tinubu, nor was it the result of new evidence that cleared the APC strongman. Rather, the transformation followed Tinubu’s ascension to Aso Rock. The optics are clear: Omokri, like many others, may not want to be left out in the cold while the spoils of governance are being distributed.

He now claims to “respect the office of the president,” and urges Nigerians to support Tinubu because he is the leader of the nation. While that in itself is not necessarily a betrayal of principle, the venom he now reserves for Peter Obi, a candidate whose only real political sin is offering an alternative to the status quo, is striking.

But let us pause for caution. Could it be that Omokri is simply trying to play the long game by aligning with power to maintain relevance and possible influence over policy from within? Is this a political calculation for access and longevity rather than pure opportunism? While these questions do not absolve him, they point to a more complex dynamic at play in Nigeria’s political theater.

Omokri’s vendetta against Peter Obi is fast becoming an obsession. Daily, his social media pages are flooded with anti-Obi rhetoric, sometimes stretching facts to fit his narrative. It raises concerns about the sincerity of his criticism. Is he truly offering objective analysis, or is he attempting to ingratiate himself with Tinubu’s political machinery by attacking its most visible opposition?

The answer leans toward the latter. In Nigerian politics, sycophancy is often rewarded, and Omokri appears to have mastered the art. By attacking Obi and his supporters, many of whom are youth-driven and ideologically motivated, Omokri may be strategically positioning himself for favor from the current establishment. This is not patriotism. It is political opportunism in its purest form.

There is a clear line between patriotism and political self-interest. Patriotism involves standing by principles even when it is inconvenient. It means speaking truth to power irrespective of who occupies the seat of power. On the other hand, stomach infrastructure is a euphemism in Nigerian parlance for self-serving politics, doing and saying anything to curry favor from those in power.

If Omokri were patriotic, he would maintain consistency in his advocacy. He would continue to demand accountability from Tinubu, whom he previously accused of criminal associations. Instead, he now projects Tinubu as a misunderstood leader who deserves national support, while labelling Obi and his followers as the real enemies of progress. The inconsistency is too glaring to ignore.

Yet, one must also consider the often-ignored psychological toll of public political advocacy. Omokri has faced cyberbullying, personal attacks, and intense scrutiny for years. Could this shift in stance be a defense mechanism, a way to reduce friction and protect himself? If so, it raises important questions about the sustainability of principled activism in a toxic political climate.

Omokri’s behavior does more than just tarnish his credibility; it damages the fabric of public discourse. As someone with a massive online following, his flip-flops send a dangerous message to young Nigerians. It tells them that principles are expendable and that proximity to power is the ultimate goal. It discourages issue-based politics and promotes a culture of sycophancy and propaganda.

What makes this all the more disheartening is that Omokri has, in the past, positioned himself as a defender of truth and justice. He has advocated for kidnapped Chibok girls, human rights, and good governance. But if recent behavior is anything to go by, it appears that advocacy takes a backseat when personal interest is at stake.

Moreover, Omokri’s current posture may inadvertently undermine legitimate dissent. His constant attacks on Obi create a chilling effect where critical voices may be branded as anti-government or unserious, simply for proposing alternative governance ideas. This is particularly dangerous in a democracy where competing ideas and candidates should be encouraged, not vilified.

Rather than speculate endlessly about Omokri’s motives, a more constructive approach might be to demand transparency from public figures. Omokri, like others who occupy the public space, owes Nigerians clarity. Has he had private meetings with Tinubu? Is he working on government projects? Is there an appointment he is eyeing or already occupying?

These questions are not out of place. Public accountability requires that individuals who shape public opinion explain their shifts in allegiance. Without that, we risk normalizing the dangerous narrative that betrayal of public trust is just another strategy for survival in Nigeria.

Against the backdrop of the foregoing viewpoints, it is expedient to suggest that it is time for reflection. It is not unpatriotic to support the president of one’s country, even if one opposed him during elections. What is problematic, however, is the erasure of one’s own convictions in exchange for political access. If Omokri truly believes Tinubu is fit to govern, let him come out and tell Nigerians what changed. If he now sees Tinubu as a reformer, he owes it to the public to explain why he thinks so.

Until then, his conduct will continue to be viewed through the lens of stomach infrastructure: a political ideology rooted not in principle or patriotism, but in opportunism and personal gain.

Reno Omokri must decide which side of history he wants to be on, the side of consistency and truth, or the side of sycophancy and expediency. Nigeria is watching. And history, as always, will be the final judge.

But above all, let Omokri and others like him remember that politics is a temporary game. Legacy, however, is permanent.