In politics, passion is expected. But when public debate descends into unchecked abuse, it says less about the target of the attack and more about the desperation of the attacker.

Such is the case with “Wale Onifade’s Agbero Onslaught on Governor Abiodun”, a venom-laced piece penned by Seyi Bakare, a media aide aligned with the Ogun State government.

His goal, clearly, was to defend Governor Dapo Abiodun from recent criticism. But in doing so, he inadvertently revealed the deeper anxieties within the Governor’s camp.

Bakare’s article is not a defence—it is a tantrum. It opens with the words “bare-faced lies” and spirals rapidly into a catalogue of insults, labelling Onifade everything from “intellectually poor” to a “pompous monkey.”

At no point does Bakare attempt a thoughtful refutation of the issues raised in Onifade’s original article on the Governor’s questionable tribute to the late Dr. Olunloyo. Instead, he offers rage masquerading as rhetoric.

Let’s be clear: public figures deserve scrutiny. That is the price—and the privilege—of leadership. When a sitting governor makes a statement involving a renowned figure like Dr. Olunloyo, accuracy is not optional; it is essential.

Whether the phrase “200 Level” was a slip or a simplification, it is legitimate to question its appropriateness when referring to a scholar educated decades before such terminology became common. That is not slander; it is critical engagement.

Yet Mr. Bakare prefers to focus on motives—accusing Onifade of acting out of fear that Governor Abiodun may contest a senatorial seat in 2027.

This is speculative at best and deflective at worst. It assumes that every critique must be politically motivated, and that no one in Ogun State or beyond can possibly raise questions out of principle or genuine concern.

More troubling, though, is Bakare’s consistent use of dehumanizing language—calling critics “lepers,” “agberos,” and “attack dogs.” This is not the vocabulary of a confident administration.

It is the language of a court jester who mistakes noise for persuasion. Worse still, it undermines the very governance he seeks to defend by making the Governor appear intolerant of dissent.

But the people of Ogun are not fools. They know the difference between political theatre and performance.

They are watching the roads, the hospitals, the schools, and the economy—not just the headlines or paid commentaries. A governor’s record is not defended with insults but with results.

The tragedy of Bakare’s article is that it wastes an opportunity for meaningful dialogue. Rather than offering clarity, it obscures. Rather than building trust, it erodes it.

In the end, what matters is not who shouts loudest but who tells the truth with integrity.

Let Governor Abiodun’s achievements, if truly substantial, speak for themselves. And let critics be heard—not because they are right or wrong—but because democracy demands it.