At sixty, Dr Reuben Abati stands in that rare place where experience, intellect and a sharpened sense of self finally converge. His journey — layered, restless, continuously unfolding — is the story of a man who has refused to stay in one place intellectually. He has been a scholar, a journalist, a columnist, a media strategist, a public servant, a broadcaster, and a national commentator. Yet, at every stage, what stands out is not the title but the transition. Abati has always been evolving. Always becoming.
His brilliance announced itself early. He graduated with First Class Honours in Theatre Arts from the University of Calabar, earning the Vice Chancellor’s Prize and recognition as a National Merit Scholar. He went on to earn both a Master’s and a PhD from the University of Ibadan before turning thirty, later expanding his training as a Hubert H. Humphrey Fellow in Journalism at the University of Maryland. A Law degree from Lagos State University, a Master’s in International Law and Diplomacy from the University of Lagos, and leadership training at Saïd Business School, University of Oxford, completed a multidisciplinary education that would shape the breadth of his voice.
Before the spotlight, he lectured — a period that grounded him in discipline, research, and the rigour of critical thought. But it was at The Guardian that he found a national platform. Joining the newspaper in 1991, he rose to become Editorial Page Editor and, eventually, Chairman of the Editorial Board. His editorials — sharp, elegant, deeply informed — helped shape opinion during one of the most intellectually vibrant periods of Nigerian print media.
There was Patito’s Gang, which introduced a wider audience to his clarity and wit, and later, his transition into public service as Special Adviser on Media and Publicity to President Goodluck Jonathan — a role that tested his resilience and sharpened his understanding of power at the highest level.
Today, as co-anchor of The Morning Show on Arise News, host of City Talks with Reuben Abati on City105.1FM, and the mind behind Tuesday With Reuben Abati in THISDAY Newspaper, he remains one of the country’s most compelling and consistent public voices — thoughtful, measured, and still evolving.
Few have travelled his path, and even fewer have returned with their integrity sharpened rather than softened.
At sixty, Reuben Abati is not merely reflecting on his journey; he is standing firmly in it — seasoned, clear-eyed, and still very much a force. In this milestone interview, he reflects on turning 60, the lessons that shaped each chapter of his life, the demands and contradictions of public service and the private man behind the public persona.
Interview By Konye Chelsea Nwabogor
Happy Birthday, Sir. Sixty is a milestone. When you look back, what do you think has shaped you the most: your education, your upbringing, or the many rooms you’ve sat in across academia, media, and politics?
Thank you. If I have to pick one, I would say my upbringing. I grew up in a disciplined, humble environment in Abeokuta. My parents instilled in me the values of hard work, integrity, and the importance of education. That foundation is the bedrock of everything. But you are right to probe deeper. Beyond the discipline, I was also blessed with a certain intellectual curiosity from a very young age. I found that I could see things from a divergent perspective, often looking beyond the surface to deduce what others might miss. My family structure was also formative; my mother had children from a previous marriage before she married my father, and I became her first son in the new union to my father.That position came with an unspoken weight of responsibility, a need to prove myself, to bridge worlds, and to succeed not just for my own sake, but for my siblings and the new family unit. So, it was a combination of that foundational upbringing, an innate cerebral giftedness, and an early sense of duty. My education and the various “rooms” I’ve sat in have been the theatres where that unique combination was tested, refined, and applied.
You earned your PhD at 24, an extraordinary feat by any measure. What was driving that kind of ambition at such a young age?
It was a combination of intellectual curiosity and a burning desire to prove myself. I was a young man in a hurry. I had graduated with a First Class and was the University valedictorian; the momentum was there. But more deeply, I saw education as the most potent weapon for advancement. I wasn’t from a wealthy or connected family; my brain was my only currency. Getting that Ph.D so early was my way of forcefully opening a door and declaring, “I have arrived.” My father, meanwhile, always remined me that I was not doing anyone a favour, after all it is my name that would be on the certificates not his. And you’ve touched on a crucial point: that weight of responsibility. As the first son in my mother’s new marriage and my father’s old age adventure, there was an implicit expectation to excel, to justify the hopes invested in me. That personal pressure, coupled with the intellectual confidence I was developing, created a powerful engine for ambition. It wasn’t just about being smart; it was about fulfilling a destiny and lifting the expectations placed upon my shoulders.
Theatre Arts, Law, Journalism! That’s quite the mix. Were you consciously building a multi-dimensional career, or simply following your curiosity?
(Laughs) It was more following curiosity and opportunity. But this is where that divergent perspective comes in. I never saw these fields as separate silos. Theatre Arts gave me an understanding of the human condition, narrative, and performance—all crucial for journalism and public communication. Journalism became my calling, the platform for engaging with society. Law was an addition, a desire to understand the framework that governs society, to have another language of power. I also studied journalism, management and leadership. My mind has always been drawn to the connections between seemingly disparate fields. I was subconsciously building a holistic understanding of how society works: the stories we tell (Theatre), the rules that bind us (Law), and the platform for public debate (Journalism). So, in retrospect, it looks like a master plan, but at each point, I was simply following a deep-seated intellectual urge that refused to be confined to one discipline. Life itself is multi-dimensional, and I sought tools to engage with all of it in a multidisciplinary manner.
Your decade at The Guardian defined an era in Nigerian journalism. What do you remember most vividly about those years?
The intellectual rigour and the towering personalities that shaped that environment. The Guardian then was more than a newspaper; it was an institution, a place of immense pride, and we saw ourselves as the conscience of the nation. I remember the intense editorial meetings, the fierce debates over a single word in a headline, the commitment to getting it right. I spent 21 years at The Guardian, by the way, and also wrote for the newspaper for an additional six months or so after I returned from Abuja as Presidential Spokesman.
The people made the newspaper what it was. We worked under the visionary leadership of our publisher, Mr Alex Uruemu Ibru, who provided the shield that allowed us to practice journalism without fear or favour. And then there were the master craftsmen, the editors who honed our skills and our conscience: journalism icons like Professor Olatunji Dare, Mr. Lade Bonuola, Mr. Femi Kusa, Dr. Edwin Madunagu, Chief Andy Akporugo, Mr Eluem Emeka Izeze, Mr. Sully Abu, and of course those who built the foundation that my generation inherited- persons like Dr. Dele Cole, Chief Olusegun Osoba, Dr. Stanley Macebuh, Dr. Onwuchekwa Jemie, Sonala Olumhense, Greg Obong-Osotshe, Amman Ogan, Odia Ofeimun and a host of others. They wielded the power of the mind, crafting narratives that swayed society and held power accountable. Their dedication to accuracy, integrity, fairmess, balance and intellectual eloquence was a daily masterclass. We were a band of intellectuals, and the newsroom was our arena. The owners understood this mission, which is why those in power often sought to control or even silence us. But we stood firm. It was a time when the editorial page was a must-read for policymakers, and you felt the weight of that responsibility every single day. The pressure was immense, but it was also the most fulfilling period of my professional life. We weren’t just reporting events; we were actively, and fearlessly, shaping the national conversation with a pen that was truly mightier than the sword.
You co-hosted “Patito’s Gang” long before talk shows became trendy. It gave Nigerians something rare at the time — intellectual television that was also entertaining. What was the vision behind that show?
The vision was to democratize intellectual discourse, deepen it, hold government accountable and generate alternative ideas. It was the vision of Professor Pat Utomi, an actively engaged public intellectual, a man of action and if I may add, a patriot in the truest sense of that expression. He wanted to take complex national issues out of the ivory tower space, into living rooms to conscientize the public. The programme was patterned after “The Capital Gang”, a weekly political talk show on CNN between 1988 – 2005, and also McLaughlin & Co. We had fun doing our own Patito’s Gang. Advertisers were reluctant to sponsor it but Professor Utomi spent his own personal resources to keep the programme going for about two decades. It was an exciting time with an exciting team which included M.M. Ibrahim, Austin Nweze, Charity Shekari, Pini Jason, Oby Ezekwesili, Onukaba Adinopyi-Ojo, Frank Aigbogun, Bilkisu Magoro, Peter Bankole and Chris Asoluka. The show was produced by Vivante Media. We were a deliberately diverse set of voices: journalists, political economists, a socialist, and a conservative political philosopher. When we debated Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP) or the June 12 crisis, it wasn’t a monologue; it was a clash of ideologies that made the issues come alive. We even had a Vox Populi segment. And a My Take segment as well. We were informing, provoking, and entertaining simultaneously.
You’ve lived through the full arc of Nigerian journalism — from print to broadcast to digital. Between the serenity of writing and the adrenaline of live television, which gives you more satisfaction today?
They satisfy different parts of me. Writing my “Tuesday with Reuben Abati” column for ThisDay is a solitary, contemplative act. I have time to refine my thoughts on issues like the cost of living crisis or electoral reforms. Live television, on The Morning Show, is a performance. The adrenaline during our live coverage of the 2023 elections or when grilling a minister on a policy failure is addictive. If I must choose, I’d say live television gives me a unique satisfaction today amongst many other things. The ability to directly interrogate a guest, like when we pressed for details on the Central Bank’s naira redesign policy, puts you in the engine room of history in real-time.
In 2011, you crossed from analyzing government to being inside it. What was the biggest culture shock when you moved from journalism into power?
The sheer inertia. As a journalist, I wrote a scathing piece on fuel subsidy corruption and expected action. Inside, I saw that turning the government’s massive vessel even one degree to the other required navigating a labyrinth of bureaucracy, vested interests, and political calculations. The second shock was the loss of personal liberty. Overnight, my personal opinions vanished. Every word was now the voice of the Presidential Villa. When I had to defend the government’s position on issues like the Boko Haram insurgency, even against my earlier writings, I felt the weight of that responsibility. The freedom to speak my mind, a journalist’s lifeblood, was the first casualty. It was a different kind of assignment, but it was worth the experience and the effort. Most journalists have no idea how government works and so, it is easy to speak from an arm-chair. Walking on both sides of the street can be eye-opening. For me, it was like getting another Ph.D. Political jobbers can be hypocritical! A democracy where people are just looking for what to eat is sad.
As Special Adviser on Media and Publicity to President Goodluck Jonathan, you were in one of the most visible and challenging positions in Nigeria. What was the hardest part of that job?
The hardest part was the constant battle against a torrent of misinformation, often from within the political arena itself. Defending the government’s stance on the Chibok girls kidnapping (#BringBackOurGirls) against a wave of national and international outrage was emotionally and professionally draining. You’re fighting a war on multiple fronts: the opposition, a skeptical media, and even factions within the government. You have to stand at the podium and present a united front, a coherence that often doesn’t exist behind the scenes. It’s a high-wire act where you are trying to balance loyalty to your principal, the truth as you know it, and the often-hostile expectations of the public.
Your return to journalism — particularly through The Morning Show on Arise News — has been nothing short of a renaissance. How different is it anchoring live television compared to writing opinion columns?
It’s the difference between being a playwright and an actor. I write the column in solitude; it’s my script. On live TV, I have to perform it in real-time with other actors. Being the lead anchor, a memorable instance was an interview with a governor about security votes; I had to listen to his evasions, recall data from my columns, challenge him with facts, and control the flow of the conversation—all live. Or do you want me to talk about the performance of politicians generally, and my rating of some of the persons in President Tinubu’s cabinet? The “renaissance” people talk about is the joy of reclaiming my own voice. On live TV, my questions are my opinions, delivered with an immediacy that is fresh.
So you have gone from questioning those in power to becoming part of power, and then back to questioning it again on live television. How has that journey changed your understanding of both leadership and accountability?
It has given me empathy and perspective, but it has also steeled my resolve. I now understand the constraints leaders face. When I criticize President Bola Tinubu’s economic policies today, I do so with the knowledge of the complex trade-offs involved, having seen similar dilemmas in the Jonathan cabinet. However, that experience has made me a more dangerous critic, not a softer one. I know where the levers are, I know the excuses that are made in closed-door meetings, I know where the corpses are buried. So, when I question the CBN’s forex management, I know exactly which doors to point to. My journey has reinforced the conviction that without relentless public scrutiny, power becomes insular. The media’s role is not just important; it is existential.
Arise News has become a major voice in Nigeria’s public discourse. What do you think it represents in a media landscape often accused of timidity?
Arise News represents a commitment to bold, independent, courageous, and assertive journalism. In a landscape where timidity is often the price of survival, we have created a platform that asks difficult questions. Our coverage of the #EndSARS protests and its aftermath, for instance, was fearless and comprehensive, giving a platform to the youth and holding security agencies accountable. We are not afraid to lead the conversation on issues others might avoid, like the illness of President Muhammadu Buhari when he was in office, or the political manoeuvring in the National Assembly. We aim to hold a mirror to society, no matter how uncomfortable the reflection may appear. We are a standout news channel, and we are determined to remain so.
You’ve interviewed some of the most powerful people in Nigeria. Who has been your most memorable guest — and why?
While I’ve had many, my interview with former President Olusegun Obasanjo remains particularly memorable. Here is a man who is a historical figure in his own right, fiercely intelligent, and with very strong opinions. Interviewing him is an intellectual chess game. I remember asking him about his famous “I dey laugh” letter to former President Goodluck Jonathan and his subsequent fallout with him. He was typically forthright and combative. Navigating that conversation, trying to get beyond the prepared statements and into the real motivations, was a professional high point. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and that keeps you on your toes every second. I have of course also interviewed so many world leaders: President Muhammadu Buhari, Sir Shridath Ramphal. Mr. Kofi Annan, Sir Ketumile Masire. I can easily publish a book of interviews that tells a useful story.
The Nigerian media is often accused of being polarized or compromised. How do you stay grounded and objective in such an environment?
By constantly reminding myself of my foundational ethics, learned from my days at The Guardian. My credibility is my greatest asset. For example, when covering the primaries of the major political parties, I am often pressured from all sides. But I strive for fairness. If the APC makes a credible argument, I will acknowledge it. If the PDP puts forth a flawed candidate, I will point it out. I am not owned by any “Lagos Boys” or “Aso Rock” clique. It’s about being guided by evidence and the public good. When I criticise my former principal, President Jonathan, or praise a policy from a former critic like President Buhari, it confuses people, but it simply reflects my commitment to principle over expediency.
What’s the most misunderstood thing about Reuben Abati?
That I am arrogant. I think people often mistake the confidence and directness I display in professional settings for arrogance. But at my core, I am a deeply introverted person. The bold voice on television or the sharp pen in my columns is not my everyday persona. It is a tool I deploy when the critical need arises, when society demands commentary, or when my professional duty calls for it. My natural state is one of quiet observation and reflection.
The other significant misunderstanding relates to my personal life. People may see that I have children from more than one marriage and assume I am polygamous by nature or choice. I want to be clear: I am not polygamous. My life’s journey has simply toed a path where destiny and circumstance led to having children from different marriages. It is a personal reality, not a philosophical endorsement of polygamy. I am a private family man at heart, and the public narrative often oversimplifies the complex tapestry of a person’s life. Let me stop here.
When you’re not talking or writing, what brings you peace?
True peace for me is found in the simple, unscripted moments away from the public eye. It is in the warmth and tranquility of my home. It is in the warmth and tranquility of my home, specifically in the quiet, cherished company of my wife, Kikelomo. Our peaceful family time whether it is watching a movie together, sharing stories, or simply enjoying the comfort of our own space—is what truly recharges me. My wife has made me a believer in taking annual vacations as well; disconnecting from the relentless news cycle to spend quality time with my family not as luxury, but as necessity; now that has been her own work culture over the years. It is in these moments, far from the headlines and the studios, that I am most at peace.
Finally, when the story of your life is told, what headline would you want it to carry?
“He Used His Voice: The Story of a Boy from Abeokuta Who Served His Country with His Pen.” That would be enough for me. To be remembered as someone who contributed to the national conversation, who served in different capacities with integrity, and who never stopped believing in the potential of Nigeria. More importantly, a committed family man.
