Professor Wole Soyinka’s recent remarks on Seyi Tinubu’s security detail, delivered with his characteristic blend of satire and severity, have undoubtedly stirred the pot of public discourse.

By likening ST’s entourage to a force capable of quelling an insurrection in Benin Republic, Prof Soyinka has cast a spotlight on Nigeria’s strained security resources—a valid concern in a nation where banditry claims lives daily. Yet, as voices from civil society rise in rebuttal, it’s clear that this narrative demands nuance.

Seyi Tinubu is not merely “the president’s son” shielded by nepotism; he is a public figure whose visibility and contributions amplify his risks in an environment where threats are as commonplace as they are lethal. To strip away his protection would not just be imprudent—it would be a betrayal of the very principles of equity and safety that Professor Soyinka himself champions.

At the heart of the defense lies a simple truth: executive protection for family members of heads of state is not an anomaly, but a global standard born of hard-learned lessons.

In the United States, the Secret Service routinely safeguards adult children of former presidents—think Malia and Sasha Obama, who received full details well into their twenties despite no official roles. This isn’t privilege run amok; it’s protocol forged in the fires of history, from the attempted assassination of John F. Kennedy Jr. to the vigilance around the Bush daughters amid post-9/11 threats.

Nigeria, with its own grim ledger of political violence cannot afford to lag behind.

Seyi, at 40, is no sheltered child; his public engagements make him a target, not a bystander. Consider Seyi’s trajectory: far from retreating into familial shadows, he has carved a path of tangible impact.

Seyi Tinubu’s public persona extends far beyond familial ties, positioning him as a catalyst for youth empowerment and economic innovation. As co-founder of the Noella Foundation alongside his wife Layal Tinubu, Seyi has spearheaded initiatives that address critical societal gaps in education, healthcare, and entrepreneurship.

Established in 2018, the foundation has launched programs like the Life After School summit, equipping young Nigerians with skills for post-education success, and nationwide drives for job creation, aiming to generate 10,000 opportunities for the unemployed. These efforts, including women-led empowerment funds in the millions, amplify his visibility while inviting potential backlash from those who view such philanthropy through a political lens.

Also Through the Noella Foundation, he has championed education and healthcare access for underserved youth, funding scholarships and medical outreaches that touch thousands. His business ventures, including stakes in tech and real estate, position him as a bridge between government and private sector innovation—efforts that invite both admiration and animosity.

As many have astutely noted in their defence of Seyi, these “sustained interactions with young Nigerians” elevate his profile while exposing him to “heightened scrutiny and, at times, hostility.”

In a country where social media amplifies envy into threats, such exposure isn’t abstract. It’s a daily gauntlet. Denying protection here would signal that civic engagement invites peril without recourse, chilling the very activism Nigeria needs.

Moreover, the optics of Prof Soyinka’s critique, while poignant, risk conflating correlation with causation. President Tinubu’s December 10 directive to withdraw police escorts from non-essential VIPs explicitly carves out exceptions for those with “exposed” positions, requiring clearance from Inspector General Kayode Egbetokun. Seyi’s detail falls squarely into this category—not as a blanket entitlement, but as a calibrated response to assessed risks.

Seyi qualifies not by birthright but by action— his foundation’s outreach and philanthropic travels in volatile regions across Nigeria exposes him to much risk.

Security is not a luxury; it is a fundamental right, for those in the public eye, especially amid Nigeria’s 20-year spiral of insecurity that dwarfs comparisons to more stable nations. Politicizing it could unintentionally diminish the seriousness of the threats, turning a safeguard into a scapegoat.

Prof Soyinka’s call for restraint is a clarion for systemic overhaul—auditing all VIP allocations, from governors’ motorcades to clerics’ convoys, and redirecting forces to rural hotspots where over 1,500 abductions occurred in Q4 2025 alone.

But targeting Seyi isolates one thread in a tangled web. His protection, far from draining resources, underscores the need for smarter allocation: intelligence-driven, tech-enhanced units.

Ultimately, defending Seyi is defending the human cost of leadership. In Nigeria’s cauldron of politics, where proximity to power is a double-edged sword, stripping away safeguards invites tragedy. Prof Soyinka, a titan who has faced exile and censorship for his convictions, knows vulnerability intimately; his words, though sharp, invite us to elevate the debate.

Let this be the catalyst for equity: protection scaled to threat, not title. Seyi Tinubu deserves his detail not because of who his father is, but because of who he is—a builder in a brittle land, worthy of the shield that lets him continue. Anything less dishonors the nation’s fragile march toward security for all.