Over 2 Years of Ademola Adeleke’s Administration: What Has Truly Changed?

By Jimoh Abibat

Two years into Governor Ademola Adeleke’s administration, the question confronting the working people of Osun State is simple: what has truly changed? Elected on the back of public frustration with the failed and anti-poor policies of his predecessor, Gboyega Oyetola, Adeleke’s victory in the 2022 gubernatorial election was seen by many as a rejection of unpaid wages, deepening insecurity, neglect of retirees, and the decay of public infrastructure. But beyond the change in personality and political party, has there been a genuine break from the policies that left the state’s working masses in despair?

Similarly, the 2022 polls were marred by irregularities, including vote buying, ballot snatching, and voting that stretched into midnight in many areas.

Now, as political campaigns heat up again in anticipation of Adeleke’s re-election bid, it is important to look beyond media propaganda and assess the real impact of his administration. Has Governor Adeleke brought transformative change to the lives of the working masses? Has his government shifted the status quo in education, healthcare, infrastructure, security, and employment? Or is this another populist regime sustaining the same exploitative governance framework with cosmetic changes?

Governor Adeleke frequently touts the “upgrade” of Osun State College of Education, Ilesa, into a university as a major achievement. At first glance, this might seem significant. However, in reality, it was a mere rebranding, not a structural transformation. The institution still suffers from underfunding, inadequate staffing, and poor infrastructure—issues that plagued it even before the so-called upgrade.

Worse, the upgrade came with a troubling trend: the encroachment of private corporations into public education. The commercialization of education in Osun is evident in the exorbitant tuition fees—ranging from ₦600,000 to over ₦1 million—for medicine, law, and other professional courses. Even the lowest-paying programs remain unaffordable for most working-class families. This effectively restricts access to education and reinforces inequality. Rather than being a tool for equal opportunity, education in Osun is increasingly reserved for the wealthy.

The governor also lists the completion of abandoned projects at Osun State University, the construction of a new anatomy lab, the renovation of 99 secondary schools, and the upgrade of six technical colleges as achievements. But in reality, these “renovations” often amount to little more than fresh paint jobs. The core crisis of education—underpaid teachers, overcrowded classrooms, and dilapidated facilities, remains unresolved.

Healthcare has not fared better. While the administration claims to have rehabilitated several Primary Healthcare Centres (PHCs), many remain poorly staffed, ill-equipped, and inaccessible, especially in rural areas. In places where facilities have been renovated, there is still a glaring lack of medical personnel, drugs, and quality services. The sector suffers from a systemic crisis, yet there has been no bold policy push to achieve universal healthcare coverage.

The governor’s highly publicised “empowerment” initiatives in digital skills and tech training are being peddled as job creation. But these token programmes cannot solve the deep unemployment crisis, especially among youth. What Osun needs is a publicly driven employment strategy centred around agricultural and industrial revitalisation programmes that provide stable, long-term jobs, not temporary handouts wrapped in fanfare.

Road rehabilitation and township beautification projects are often highlighted by Adeleke’s administration. However, these are mostly limited to key political towns like Ife, Ilesa, and Osogbo. Even in those towns, essential infrastructure—water, sanitation, electricity—remains lacking. Moreover, many of these contracts are awarded to private contractors with minimal transparency or community input, leading to inflated costs and prioritisation of profits over public good.

Despite these shortcomings, Osun State receives substantial financial resources. The state reportedly receives an average of ₦10 billion monthly from the Federal Accounts Allocation Committee (FAAC), and generates over ₦3 billion in Internally Generated Revenue (IGR). Yet, these funds have not translated into significant improvements in education, healthcare, or public infrastructure. Instead, the Adeleke administration appears to be repeating the same pattern of waste and misplaced priorities that defined previous governments.

On the issue of security, Osun faces many of the same challenges as the rest of the country—farmer-herder conflicts, communal clashes, and rising petty crime linked to poverty. Areas like Ife and Ilesa, which host large student populations, have seen increases in sexual harassment, armed robbery, and cult violence. The recent deadly conflict between Ilobu and Ifon over land encroachment is another grim example. Unfortunately, the administration’s response has been inadequate, lacking both a clear plan and the political will to address the underlying issues of poverty, unemployment, and disenfranchisement.

Instead of implementing community-led safety programs and democratic control over security forces, the government has resorted to superficial measures like more police checkpoints and media statements—none of which tackle the root causes of insecurity.

While it’s true that state governments operate under constraints imposed by federal economic policies—such as the removal of fuel subsidies and the devaluation of the naira—Governor Adeleke has remained complicit through silence. There have been no independent state-level initiatives to cushion the effects of inflation, hunger, or soaring transportation costs. Rather than resisting harmful federal directives, Adeleke has opted to manage the fallout with token palliatives.

Ultimately, Adeleke’s two years in power have been more about appearances than substance. His social media antics and public dances may entertain, but they do not fill classrooms, staff hospitals, or create jobs. This administration has not deviated from the anti-poor legacy of its predecessors. Instead of championing the interests of workers, youth, artisans, and farmers—the true creators of wealth—Adeleke has continued to manage the same broken capitalist system, just with a more affable face.

As the 2026 election season approaches, we must ask ourselves: is re-electing Adeleke really the answer? Clearly, the APC is not an alternative—nor would it be, even if Adeleke ends up cross-carpeting into it. This only underscores the need for the working people of Osun to completely withdraw support from both wings of the ruling elite, who are no different from one another, and begin the independent task of building or supporting the initiative for a new political alternative—one rooted in class struggle, public ownership, and democratic control of the state by the masses.

The time has come for Osun’s working class to organize, resist, and fight for a society where public resources are used for public good, and governance is accountable to the people—not to contractors, political cronies, or corporate interests.