The death of former President Muhammadu Buhari which was announced on July 13, 2025 has triggered a wave of tributes, criticisms, and historical recollections across the country. From television screens to social media timelines, the Nigerian public is attempting to make sense of a man whose influence stretched across decades of military and civilian rule. But while older generations dissect his policies and leadership style, another section of the population is disturbingly silent, many young Nigerians, particularly students, simply do not know who Buhari truly was.
This is not a slight on their intelligence or curiosity. It is a direct reflection of the erasure, fragmentation, and dysfunction within Nigeria’s civic and historical education. In a country that once removed history as a core subject and only recently began half-hearted attempts to reinstate it, the result is evident: a generation growing up with little understanding of the past, and even less ability to engage critically with national memory.
It is no surprise, then, that the passing of a figure as historically significant as Muhammadu Buhari presents not only a moment of national reflection, but a mirror held up to the failure of Nigeria’s educational institutions. And the reflection is not flattering.
Buhari was not just another leader. He was a military head of state in the 1980s, ousted in a coup, and returned to power democratically three decades later. His leadership style, policies, mistakes, and convictions influenced Nigeria’s economy, security apparatus, democratic development, and national psyche. Yet for millions of students born in the 2000s, his name holds little more than vague political association, perhaps a trending hashtag during fuel scarcity, ENDSARS, Naira Scarcity, or ASUU strikes. The deeper context is missing.
The tragedy here is two-fold. First, it speaks to the near-total collapse of civic education in public schools. While subjects like government or social studies touch on political institutions, they rarely offer nuanced historical insight into the people who shaped the nation’s trajectory. Students might memorise the list of heads of state but are often not taught what those leaders did, why they mattered, or how their decisions continue to affect Nigeria today.
Second, the vacuum of structured civic education has been filled by hearsay, misinformation, and algorithm-driven outrage online. For many Nigerian students, their knowledge of Buhari begins and ends with trending moments: a rumour of his death in 2017, memes of his silence during national crises, or screenshots of controversial policies. There is no anchor, no chronology, no deep understanding. And this isn’t just a loss of knowledge, it’s a crisis of citizenship.
A nation that does not remember cannot learn. And a generation that is unaware of where it has been is far more likely to repeat its worst mistakes. Buhari’s legacy, whether seen as authoritarian or disciplined, visionary or detached is not the point. The point is that young Nigerians should be equipped to evaluate it for themselves.
This is where education must step in, not in the form of propaganda or sanitised textbooks, but through honest, critical engagement with history. Students must learn how to interrogate leadership, not just name-drop presidents. They should be guided to examine key historical events: the 1983 coup, the War Against Indiscipline, the return to democracy, the insurgency crises, the End SARS movement, and the long-running tension between national security and human rights. In each of these, Buhari was a central figure. And each deserves a place in Nigeria’s educational narrative.
It is not enough for schools to “bring back history.” The curriculum must be relevant, unfiltered, and contextual. Students need opportunities to explore dissenting opinions, understand multiple perspectives, and debate the implications of leadership decisions, past and present. This is how they build critical thinking, civic responsibility, and a genuine sense of belonging to the nation.
And what about tertiary institutions? Nigerian universities have no shortage of students studying political science, international relations, and history. But how often are they challenged to evaluate contemporary leadership beyond surface-level analysis? How many classroom discussions treat recent history as worthy of academic scrutiny, not just far-off colonial events? Buhari’s death is not just a news story, it is a teachable moment. Professors should be assigning essays, holding open forums, and facilitating reflective writing exercises that allow students to process and interpret the nation’s collective memory.
We must also consider the role of the media and educational content creators. In the absence of a strong formal curriculum, YouTube videos, podcasts, social media explainers, and youth-focused platforms now play an outsized role in shaping historical awareness. This is both a risk and an opportunity. Done poorly, it leads to distortion and misinformation. Done well, it can be a lifeline. The question is whether the education sector is paying enough attention to this shift and whether teachers are willing to meet students where they already are.
Buhari’s passing should not be reduced to shallow “RIP” graphics or partisan shouting matches. It should prompt a broader reflection on how we remember, how we educate, and how we prepare the next generation to engage with their country’s past. A student who knows their history is better equipped to critique governance, demand accountability, and vote with purpose. A student who doesn’t is easily manipulated by slogans, bias, and surface narratives.
At the heart of it all lies a single, uncomfortable question: If Nigerian students don’t know who Buhari really was, what else don’t they know? And what is it costing the country?
There’s still time to correct the course. But it requires urgency. Educators, curriculum developers, school leaders, and even journalists must stop treating civic education as optional. We must treat every national moment especially moments of death, transition, or crisis as an opportunity to educate critically, not to indoctrinate sentimentally. Because remembering leaders like Buhari is not about honouring or condemning them. It is about giving young people the tools to think, question, and understand power and what it means for their lives and futures.
