In the end, politics of survival may not guarantee survival

In Nigeria’s political evolution, perhaps no strategy has been abused more than the “politics of survival”. This is the desperate, self-serving maneuver of switching parties, sacrificing ideology, and abandoning principles, all in pursuit of political relevance. Over the years, this survivalist instinct has created a culture of instability, betrayal, and ideological bankruptcy. It has turned political parties into transit camps and electoral promises into empty slogans. Yet, in an ironic twist, many who thought survival would come from defection have found themselves politically stranded; proving that politics of survival might not guarantee actual survival.

 The tale is not new. It has roots. And if we must name the founding father of this brand of political flexibility in the 4th Republic, it would be the highly respected Alhaji Atiku Abubaka. In 2006, while serving as Vice President under the PDP-led government of President Olusegun Obasanjo, Atiku defected to the Action Congress (AC) in order to contest the 2007 presidential election. It was an unprecedented move at that time, for a sitting Vice President to leave the party that brought him into office, yet refusing to resign from his position. His decision was bold, strategic, and widely controversial.

 What followed became a defining moment in Nigeria’s political and legal history. The PDP tried to declare Atiku’s seat vacant, arguing that he could no longer remain Vice President after abandoning the party. But Atiku challenged the move in court and won. In the landmark case of Attorney General of the Federation v. Atiku Abubakar & 3 Ors. (2007) 10 NWLR (Pt. 1041) 1, the Supreme Court ruled that he did not lose his seat by defecting. The Court affirmed that a Vice President is elected jointly with the President and can only be removed through constitutional processes like impeachment and not merely by leaving the sponsoring political party. This judgment effectively made it legal for elected officeholders to change parties without forfeiting their mandates, setting a precedent that would later shield governors, lawmakers, and others who defected for personal political survival.

 That judgment, while defensible on constitutional grounds, created a precedent that fundamentally weakened Nigeria’s political party system. From that moment on, politicians understood they could jump ship at will, even for purely selfish reasons, and still retain their power. No more fear of recall. No real consequence for betrayal. It opened the floodgates to the crisis of party indiscipline that now defines our political culture. The idea of commitment to party values began to erode, and politics became a game of convenience rather than conviction.

 When we talk about political longevity in Nigeria, Atiku Abubakar easily comes to mind. His journey started way back in the days of the Yar’Adua political family, the legendary Peoples Democratic Movement (PDM), where he learnt the ropes of grassroots politics under the mentorship of the late General Shehu Musa Yar’Adua. From there, when democracy returned in 1999, it was only natural that Atiku would play a major role in shaping the newly birthed People›s Democratic Party (PDP), a party that would dominate Nigeria’s political landscape for over a decade. Atiku’s involvement was not by accident, he was part of those who laid the foundation for what became the most influential political party of the Fourth Republic. It is not out of place to say that Atiku owns the PDP.

 Atiku’s name has been on the ballot, directly or indirectly, since the early 90s. We remember how he first tested his popularity during the 1993 Social Democratic Party (SDP) primaries, stepping aside for MKO Abiola in a political move that many still describe as selfless, only to later found out that he was outplayed by power brokers. Since then, he has been a constant force, contesting in 2007, 2011, 2015 (during primaries), 2019, and most recently, 2023. Whispers everywhere, even as 2025 calls for political recalculations, Atiku’s relevance has never truly faded. Whether you agreed with him or not, there’s no denying that Atiku has been a national figure that has crisscrossed Nigeria, built alliances across ethnic and religious lines, and maintained a pan-Nigerian image few politicians can rival.

 One of the remarkable things about Atiku’s political journey is how close he always comes to victory, which has always given him that mirage of victory (come next time). In virtually every election he contested, Atiku was not a fringe player; he was always a major contender. It is easy to imagine how just a slight swing here and there could have delivered him the presidency. His resilience, his ability to re-strategize, and his refusal to retreat from the national stage, even when the odds were stacked against him, have often been cited as proof of his deep commitment to Nigeria’s democracy. Atiku has carried the hopes of millions, and though he never clinched the top seat, his presence forced every conversation about leadership and governance to take him seriously.

 Another name that pops up when opposition politics is discussed is Peter Obi. His case is not unique. If you scan Nigeria’s political space today, you’ll find that almost every major opposition figure is a product of Atiku’s PDP. Peter Obi’s political story is often sold as a fresh alternative, but a deeper look shows it is far more complicated. After governing Anambra State under APGA, Obi’s next big political leap was through none other than the PDP. It was the PDP that gave him a national platform when he was selected as Atiku’s running mate in 2019. And truth be told, without that exposure, it’s hard to see how Obi would have transformed into the political «movement» we see today. Ironically, the same PDP he once trusted was later abandoned in a race to craft a new political identity, a move many saw as political opportunism rather than conviction.

 In truth, Peter Obi’s travesty is not that he wanted to serve but how quickly he rewrote his political history. In 2019, he campaigned vigorously for Atiku, praised the PDP as the most nationalistic party, and attacked those who questioned its vision. Fast forward to 2022, Obi suddenly became a crusader against the very system that gave him visibility. While it’s easy to admire his energy and messaging, it’s hard to ignore the contradictions. The same PDP Obi castigates today is the same PDP he almost trusted with his future, had he secured the 2023 presidential ticket.

 Even in the newer political outfits, the fingerprints of PDP are everywhere. The Labour Party’s strength in the 2023 elections, from the South-East to parts of Lagos, rides on politicians who learnt the game under PDP’s big tent. Governors who switched sides, senators who recalibrated, and presidential hopefuls who jumped ship; many of them are PDP alumni. PDP wasn›t just a political party; for many years, it was the political university where almost every major Nigerian politician studied and graduated.

 So, when people speak of a «new» opposition today, it’s important to remember: they are largely recycled energies from the same Atiku’s PDP family. They left, not always because they had a different vision for Nigeria, but often because of personal ambitions, internal disagreements, or perceived unfairness in PDP’s structure. The PDP’s strength and its weakness became its children. Children who now contest against each other in different robes but with eerily similar political instincts.

 It’s even more fascinating when you realize that the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) itself was largely built by former PDP stalwarts. If the PDP was a political university, then APC was the alumni association. Many of APC’s principal figures, including founding members, top strategists, and leading officeholders, once wore PDP’s badge proudly. It’s no secret that some of the same individuals who helped PDP dominate Nigeria›s politics from 1999 are the ones who fuelled APC’s rise to power in 2015.

 Take President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, for instance. Although he’s often associated with the Alliance for Democracy (AD) and later the Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN), many of his strongest political allies, people who powered the 2015 coalition, were PDP defectors. Rotimi Amaechi, who became Director-General of Buhari›s campaign, was a PDP man through and through before he crossed over. Atiku Abubakar, one of the original architects of APC, was PDP’s backbone for years before he temporarily moved to APC to pursue his ambitions. Even governors who helped APC establish strongholds across the North and South had PDP bloodlines. Rabiu Kwankwaso, though back to the APC again for a second spell after his failed presidential aspiration with the NNPP, in his first coming to the APC played a huge role in APC’s 2015 success after exiting PDP. Kwankwaso, before exiting the PDP for instance was a former Minister of Defence under a PDP government and a two-term governor of Kano State under PDP before flirting with APC. The likes of former governors: Rochas Okorocha (Imo) also had strong PDP roots before finding new political homes, Godswill Akpabio (now Senate President), before his dramatic defection to APC, was a PDP poster boy and a governor who embodied the PDP spirit of the South-South.

 The truth is, when you strip away party slogans and symbols, you find the same familiar faces of politicians who shifted platforms when it suited their ambitions. APC›s success wasn’t because it attracted a radically different set of people; it was because it gathered disillusioned PDP heavyweights who knew the game, understood the terrain, and had structures ready to mobilize. In short, APC was not a total departure from PDP; it was an offshoot of a rebellion that succeeded.

That’s why it’s almost comical today when APC and PDP pretend to be eternal enemies. In reality, many APC bigwigs owe their political relevance to the PDP era. They cut their teeth in PDP meetings, held power under PDP governments, and learnt their most effective political strategies while wearing PDP colours. They didn’t just inherit PDP›s strengths, they also inherited its flaws. So, when you read the manifestos of both APC and PDP, the first thing you notice is that they are strikingly similar in tone and ambition. Both parties promise to fight corruption, create jobs, improve security, boost the economy, and strengthen Nigeria›s unity. They talk about restructuring in vague terms. They talk about health, education, youth empowerment, and infrastructure. In essence, both parties offer the same sweet music, just that it’s sung in different keys. There’s no ideological gulf between them like you might see between Democrats and Republicans in the US; here, it’s mostly about who people think can deliver better, not what they fundamentally believe differently.

 Where differences appear, they are usually cosmetic. For instance, APC campaigned heavily in 2015 on the promise of “Change”. Positioning itself as the messiah to rescue Nigeria from PDP’s alleged years of mismanagement. Meanwhile, PDP’s manifesto focused more on “Transformation”, building on continuity and expanding economic reforms. But in practice, the APC government ended up implementing many PDP-era policies under different names. From the Economic Recovery and Growth Plan (ERGP) to social investment programs like N-Power, most of APC›s so-called «new» initiatives had their roots in the PDP playbook.

 One strong reason for this overlap is simple: many of the people running the APC government, especially after the 2015 and 2019 elections, were not the original APC founders. Those implementing the APC manifesto, if truly, they are, were high-ranking PDP defectors who carried with them not just their ambitions but their old habits, philosophies, and governance styles. Names like Bukola Saraki (before he returned to PDP), Atiku Abubakar (during his brief APC stint), Godswill Akpabio, and others ensured that even when APC promised «change,» what Nigeria often got was «PDP with a new jacket.» Their understanding of politics, government management, and power was shaped by years inside PDP.

 Interestingly, some of the strongest internal resistance to real reforms within APC came from these same PDP alumni. Because they had seen governance primarily as a tool for political survival rather than ideological fulfillment, their influence diluted any hope of APC becoming a truly new political movement. The struggle between the original APC founders (mostly from ACN, CPC, ANPP) and the PDP defectors turned APC into a cocktail of old and new, but mostly old wine in new bottles. Policies were recycled, appointments followed the same old patronage patterns, and governance often prioritized power retention over deep reform. In the end, the similarity between APC and PDP isn’t just in their manifestos but it’s in their DNA. The «PDP blood» that ran into APC’s veins made sure that promises of radical change remained largely rhetorical. Governance continued to serve political class interests first, with national interest trailing behind.

One of the ironies of Nigeria’s modern political history is how the desperation of many politicians ended up strengthening the hand of those who understood the value of patience, resilience, and structure. And here comes a Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu. While many politicians scrambled at every election cycle to switch sides, betray alliances, or jump ships just to remain relevant, a few stayed grounded, allowing the chaos around them to make their stability even more attractive. Every time a major PDP figure defected out of frustration or personal ambition, it confirmed a simple truth: consistency and negotiation are more powerful tools than opportunism. As many scattered, a few quietly gathered. As others burned bridges, some were busy building them.

 The quest for power at all costs consumed many political heavyweights who could have otherwise challenged the emerging new order. Instead of building strong alternative structures or reforming the parties they belonged to, they weakened themselves through reckless decamping and selfish political gambling. Each defection left their movements fractured, confused, and leaderless, while those who stayed behind, even when internally bruised, grew more resilient. It was becoming clearer that power was not a quick sprint; it was a marathon of strategy, patience, and negotiation.

 In the end, it wasn’t just political brilliance that shaped the future; it was also the strategic foolishness of desperate rivals. Their inability to resist short-term temptations gave those who stayed committed, like Tinubu, the breathing space to consolidate, negotiate better deals, and outlive most of their political peers, at the detriment of the PDP, which gave most of them the relevance and limelight they got. While many were busy chasing instant power, a few were busy plotting lasting power. Today, as history records Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s rise from a solitary opposition figure to the President of Nigeria, it also records the quiet fall of many who once thought themselves invincible but lacked the discipline to build and defend a real political house.

 From the beginning, Bola Ahmed Tinubu understood that real power comes from building and negotiating, not from reckless decamping. After serving as Senator during the aborted Third Republic, Tinubu became Governor of Lagos State in 1999 under the Alliance for Democracy (AD), while the PDP swept through most of Nigeria. The PDP tsunami did not scare him into surrender; instead, it taught him the value of protecting a political base. By the time he was completing his two terms in 2007, Tinubu was already playing a larger game: transforming the regional AD into a more formidable national force.

 The 2007 elections were a real test of his strategy. Rather than accept PDP’s dominance or defect for survival, Tinubu reorganized the Southwest resistance under the Action Congress (AC), later the Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN). Though PDP captured many states, Lagos remained a shining exception.

Tinubu’s ability to defend Lagos, even when isolated, showed he had grasped something most of his rivals missed: it is better to own a small kingdom than be a beggar in a large empire. I still don’t understand how people forget so soon that he (Asiwaju) maintained his political relevance by consistent negotiation, alliances, and tactical patience.

 By 2011, Tinubu had built ACN into a strong regional party and had restored control of key Southwest states. Yet again, he didn’t decamp. He chose negotiation, brokering political understandings even with northern interests, setting the stage for broader alliances. When PDP still won nationally in 2011, Tinubu did not panic, although it was alleged that he negotiated the ACN’s Presidential candidate with the then President and candidate of the PDP. He understood that building a winning national coalition would take more groundwork. He was willing to wait, while many impatient politicians from other regions kept defecting without strategy, further weakening themselves and strengthening Tinubu’s hand.

 Then came the masterstroke of 2015. Tinubu’s ACN merged with Buhari’s CPC, the ANPP, a faction of APGA, and some disillusioned PDP members to form the All Progressives Congress (APC). He didn’t abandon his political base for the merger; he negotiated from strength. He agreed to back Buhari for President while ensuring that his political network remained deeply rooted across party structures. APC’s 2015 victory over PDP, the first successful opposition takeover in Nigeria’s history, bore Tinubu’s fingerprints all over it. It was the crowning glory of years of patience, negotiation, and coalition-building.

 Even in 2019, when internal cracks threatened APC’s unity, Tinubu stayed true to his long-term strategy. Others who felt sidelined, like Bukola Saraki and Yakubu Dogara, jumped ship, but Tinubu stayed. Instead of defecting, he negotiated internally and positioned himself strategically for the future. His loyalty to the structure he helped build paid off, allowing him to consolidate even more influence ahead of the 2023 election.

 The desperation to stay afloat politically led many heavyweight figures to abandon their original blocs, but time has shown that most of them either found themselves crawling back or were strategically sidelined by the very systems they helped empower. Take Bukola Saraki, for example. Saraki was one of the strongest figures in the PDP bloc that joined the APC coalition ahead of the 2015 elections. As Senate President from 2015 to 2019, Saraki wielded enormous influence, but when cracks appeared between him and the APC leadership, he quickly returned to his old PDP home. Today, despite all his efforts, Saraki struggles to regain the national political stature he once enjoyed.

 Rochas Okorocha presents another fascinating case. Originally a product of the ANPP family before migrating through various parties, Okorocha became one of the notable Southeast faces of APC. However, after falling out with the party’s national leadership over his succession plans in Imo State, Okorocha became isolated. His ambitions were suffocated, and his once-growing political dynasty shrank. Today, he is caught between legal battles and political oblivion, a classic example of how decamping without solid structure eventually leaves a man stranded.

 Nasir El-Rufai, once a poster boy of the CPC and later one of the loudest champions of the APC merger, also found himself at crossroads. While he enjoyed relevance as Governor of Kaduna State for eight years and as a key voice in national conversations, his brand of politics made more enemies than friends. Post-governorship, El-Rufai has found himself distanced from the APC mainstream he once helped build. Strategic sidelining has limited his influence to commentary rather than actual decision-making in the new political order. My once upon a time political crush is now wandering in a lesser than mushroom political party. You’d ask yourself, how come El Rufai is so rattled that he just jumped into a party without a councillor in any State, let alone a Rep member? What a political miscalulation!!!

 The same pattern runs through many other nPDP defectors who thought merging with APC would guarantee them eternal seats at the table. Rotimi Amaechi, once the arrowhead of the nPDP rebellion, enjoyed a strong run as Minister of Transportation, but after Buhari’s second term, his influence began to wane. His presidential ambition in 2023 failed spectacularly within APC’s internal politics. Today, he battles for relevance without any strong regional or national political machinery to fall back on.

 It is very important to note that for every functioning democracy, the role of the opposition is not just to oppose for opposition’s sake, but to serve as a necessary check on the excesses of those in power. A formidable opposition keeps governments on their toes, reminding them that power is temporary, and that the people’s voice must always be respected. Without a strong opposition, governments easily slip into arrogance, impunity, and ultimately dictatorship. The opposition›s job is to scrutinise policies, challenge wrong decisions, and propose better alternatives; not merely to make noise on the pages of Newspaper or rant on the worries within the party on AriseTV with Dr. Abati and Rufai, but to deepen democracy through constructive engagement.

 Criticism, when coming from a principled opposition, is not an act of bitterness; it is an act of patriotism. A weak opposition allows governments to believe they are infallible, leading to the repeated recycling of poor ideas and failed projects. But a strong, organised opposition acts like a mirror, forcing those in power to constantly self-examine and adjust. Without such constant pressure, even the best-intentioned government will gradually lose touch with the realities of the people it claims to serve.

Beyond criticism, negotiation is another key function of a vibrant opposition. Not every disagreement must lead to an all-out political war. A formidable opposition knows when to criticise loudly, and when to negotiate quietly. In a diverse, multi-ethnic country like Nigeria, negotiation is not a weakness; it is an art. Through strategic negotiation, oppositions can secure concessions for their constituencies, protect democracy, and even influence government policies from outside power. In short, a strong opposition does not only bark; it knows when and how to bite and when to sit at the table to shape outcomes.

 One major insight often overlooked is that a formidable opposition keeps political ideas fresh. Governments can easily get stuck in echo chambers, surrounded by yes-men who repeat what leaders want to hear. But an intelligent opposition introduces new ideas, challenges stale thinking, and often ends up shaping the very agenda of governance. Many reforms that governments later adopt often started as opposition talking points. Thus, a healthy democracy is not one where the ruling party has all the answers, but one where ideas compete and the best policies survive rigorous debate.

 A nation without strong opposition risks developing a culture of fear rather than a culture of debate. Citizens begin to fear criticising leaders, journalists become cautious, and civil society shrinks. Over time, leaders start mistaking silence for approval, and the gap between government and the governed widens dangerously. In contrast, when opposition is alive and robust, leaders are constantly reminded that their true employers are the people, not themselves. They govern with humility, caution, and more responsibility, knowing that mistakes will be swiftly highlighted and challenged.

 Furthermore, a strong opposition prepares future leaders. Those who oppose today may lead tomorrow, and the discipline, patience, and strategic thinking they cultivate in opposition are critical for effective leadership later. Leaders who rise without ever facing robust challenge often govern poorly because they have never been forced to defend ideas, rethink strategies, or answer tough questions.

 Importantly, a formidable opposition gives citizens real choices. Democracy is meaningless if elections are reduced to mere rituals where no real alternatives exist. Citizens must be able to see, hear, and evaluate different visions for their future. The stronger the opposition, the higher the quality of national conversations. The weaker the opposition, the more democracy becomes a hollow performance. Nigerians deserve not just elections every four years, but real, ongoing, competitive political engagement that keeps the nation dynamic, hopeful, and forward-looking.

 Unfortunately, the situation today reveals an even more troubling pattern: most of the major opposition figures: governors, senators, former presidential candidates, and even vice-presidential candidates, have either decamped to the ruling party (APC) or are on the verge of doing so. Politics of survival has overtaken politics of conviction. In their desperate rush for relevance, access, survival, or protection, these politicians abandon the platforms they once asked Nigerians to believe in, leaving the opposition landscape barren and confused.

 We saw this after the 2023 general elections. Candidates and strong critics who only a few months earlier stood on podiums promising «change» and «a new Nigeria» quickly made quiet visits to the corridors of power. Governors who won under opposition banners began secret negotiations with the ruling party. Former vice-presidential hopefuls, who once thundered about «taking back Nigeria,» now discuss «working together with the government for national unity.» Presidential candidates, who claimed they were building new movements, now flirt openly with the same establishment they condemned during the campaigns.

 This behaviour is not just disappointing; it is dangerous. When politicians decamp so quickly after losing elections, it sends a terrible message to citizens: that politics is not about principles or service, but about personal convenience. It teaches younger politicians that betrayal is a survival strategy. It tells voters that their sacrifices, the risks they took to support the opposition, the hope they invested in alternative visions, were merely pawns in elite power games. Trust in the democratic process diminishes, and voter apathy deepens.

 Moreover, when opposition figures abandon ship so carelessly, it weakens democracy’s immune system. Governments need strong opposition to remain accountable. When everyone joins the ruling party out of fear or greed, governance becomes sloppy and arrogant. There are fewer voices asking hard questions. There are fewer alternatives on the table. Corruption finds fertile ground. Impunity becomes easier. The absence of robust scrutiny enables mediocrity, and the people ultimately suffer from unchecked governance.

 Another hidden danger is the loss of institutional memory. Parties are not just election vehicles; they are meant to be ideological homes where policies are debated, refined, and improved over time. Constant decamping and defections disrupt this process. Parties never grow because every loss triggers an exodus. Movements never mature because they are abandoned before they can truly take root. This is why, 25 years after the return to democracy, Nigeria is still struggling to build political parties with coherent philosophies and consistent policy directions.

More troubling still is the risk of a one-party state emerging in disguise. When the opposition collapses into the ruling party, and the ruling party absorbs everyone willing to be bought or threatened, democracy becomes a mere ritual. Elections are held not to choose between competing ideas but to endorse pre-determined outcomes. Citizens are left with no real alternatives. Power is recycled among narrow elite, and the dream of participatory governance fades into a cynical performance for international observers.

 In the end, politics of survival does not actually guarantee survival. Many who decamp today will still find themselves used and discarded tomorrow. In trying to save themselves individually, they destroy the platforms that could have saved them collectively. They forget that strength in democracy comes not from quick betrayals but from building enduring platforms that can challenge power when necessary, negotiate from strength when possible, and hold the government accountable at all times.

 Having traced the political journey of the past three decades, from the days of PDM to the formation of PDP, and from PDP›s dominance to the rise of APC, one truth stands clear: Nigerians have been taken on a merry-go-round by the same political actors wearing different uniforms. The dream of democracy, which should have matured with time, has been repeatedly sabotaged by desperation, betrayal, and the politics of survival. The responsibility for this tragic cycle lies heavily on the shoulders of those who once held the banner of hope: men like Atiku Abubakar and the PDP establishment he helped to build.

 It is no longer enough to pretend that these betrayals never happened. The same PDP that Atiku symbolised, and which produced virtually all the key players across the current political spectrum, laid the foundation for the culture of opportunism that has weakened Nigeria’s democracy today. The endless defection, the erosion of party ideology, the commodification of electoral contests are not new phenomena. They were normalised in the PDP era and exported into every other platform by those who once swore loyalty to it.

 Atiku Abubakar, in particular, cannot wash his hands off this history. His political sojourn from contesting in 1993, to helping establish PDP in 1999, to leading multiple campaigns and defecting between platforms, mirrors the broader story of a political class more committed to personal ambition than national renewal. His resilience is admirable, but his inability or unwillingness to break from the old ways helped entrench the very political culture Nigerians are now desperate to change. For the health of his party and the nation, Atiku and his cohort must now have the humility to step aside and allow a new generation to emerge, one less burdened by the failures and baggage of the past.

 Meanwhile, though Bola Ahmed Tinubu has mastered the art of negotiation and resilience to reach the pinnacle of power, reality must be confronted. If the APC continues on its current path, driven by non-Aboriginal APC members who neither share its founding ideals nor respect its original vision, the party risks implosion. A house built by patriots cannot survive indefinitely when run by opportunists. A house of bastards, to borrow a harsh but fitting phrase, cannot live long before it scatters under the weight of conflicting ambitions and diluted values.

 Yet, barring any major internal collapse, Tinubu stands a strong chance of winning the next election. Not necessarily because Nigerians are fully satisfied, but because the opposition is in tatters, leaderless, confused, and often discredited by the same culture of opportunism it claims to fight. Until the opposition rebuilds itself around clear principles and disciplined structures, Tinubu’s political strategy and survival instinct will continue to outpace their noise.

 But it must not end there. Across party lines, APC, PDP, LP, NNPP, SDP and others, there is an urgent need for a deliberate recruitment, training, and development strategy to prepare a succession generation. Nigerian politics must stop being a retirement home for exhausted ambitions and start becoming a battleground for fresh, intelligent, nationally-minded leadership. Political parties must create mentorship pipelines, invest in leadership training, and intentionally cultivate younger politicians who can carry the dream of true democratic governance forward.

 If this does not happen, the cycle of betrayal, opportunism, and decay will continue. Nigeria cannot afford to keep recycling the same old players, expecting different results. Democracy flourishes when fresh ideas challenge old ones, when new energy reinvigorates old institutions. It is time for parties to build political systems that are bigger than individuals, platforms that survive personalities, and movements that inspire hope beyond the next election cycle.

 Finally, Atiku, PDP, and their scattered political children must apologise to Nigerians; not merely in words, but in action. By stepping back, mentoring successors, and allowing new leaders to emerge, they can redeem a part of their legacy. Nigerians deserve more than recycled ambitions; they deserve a new covenant, one that finally matches the promise of democracy with the reality of progress.

Adeolu Oyebode

adeoluoyebode@gmail.com

Writes from Ekiti State, Nigeria

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