There is a certain brilliance—almost artistic—in how Bola Ahmed Tinubu, his strategists, and the All Progressives Congress (APC) appear to be preparing for 2027 General Elections. Not brilliance in the conventional sense of democratic consolidation, but the kind that wins chess games by quietly removing all the opponent’s pieces and then wondering why the board feels empty.
Let me begin with the obvious: Tinubu’s 2023 victory was less a tidal wave and more a carefully navigated puddle. With 36.6 per cent of the vote, he did not so much “win” as “emerge.” It was a technical triumph made possible by a fragmented opposition. Atiku Abubakar, Peter Obi, and Rabiu Kwankwaso split the anti-APC sentiment, leaving just enough electoral arithmetic for victory. It was democracy by decimal point. He emerged with the lowest vote share in recent presidential elections.
Even before that, the script had minor improvisations. Muhammadu Buhari maintained his famous silence during the primaries, while Yemi Osinbajo made a surprise appearance in the race despite pressure for him to step down. Then came inauguration day: a bold announcement— “Fuel subsidy is gone”. Economically defensible, perhaps. Politically? Let’s just say it ensured that any post-election honeymoon would be brief. If democracy had a return policy, some voters might have tested it. Certainly, many of Tinubu’s 2023 voters now experience what psychologists call buyer’s remorse—the unease that comes from questioning a past decision. None of his supporters voted for the current economic hardship, worsening security situation, perceived disregard for due process, and disrespect for the separation of powers.
Therefore, as the APC prepares for the 2027 general elections, the minds of Tinubu’s strategists must be very busy. Using the past as prologue, they appear to be perfecting a strategy for securing a second term. Observing current developments, one might frame their approach using the work of Japanese author Kenichi Ohmae. In The Mind of the Strategist, he introduces the concept of the Strategic Triangle: Company (political party), Customer (voters), and Competitor (opposition parties). In politics, success lies in aligning party strengths with voter needs better than competitors do.
This is simple. Elegant. Effective. Which is precisely why it appears to have been ignored. Instead of strengthening alignment with voters, Tinubu’s strategists seem to have discovered a more “efficient” route: eliminate the competitor. Why persuade voters when you can ensure they have nowhere else to go? If you attempt to form a new party, obstacles arise. If you move to the PDP, internal dynamics await. If you consider alternatives like the ADC, similar barriers emerge.
The systematic weakening of opposition parties, especially the PDP, through defections, inducements, and pressure, has produced a political landscape that is strikingly one-sided. Governors? 31 out of 36 of them are in APC. Legislators? Increasingly APC. Opposition? Almost a historical concept. One might even expect a rebranding: from “multi-party democracy” to “APC and associates.” This raises an important question: Is it time to consider political “antitrust” mechanisms in Nigeria to promote fair competition and prevent dominance through practices such as induced defections and collusion?
Here lies the paradox: as someone beautifully put it, democracy is not strengthened by the absence of opposition; it is suffocated by it. A system without credible alternatives does not produce stability. It breeds apathy, resentment, and eventually, unpredictable backlash. As Napoleon Bonaparte warned, “Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.” One suspects the opposition may be taking this advice seriously. Key figures remain generally quiet while the ruling party over-optimises its dominance.
If eliminating competitors is Strategy One, then Strategy Two is classic coalition engineering by dividing the electorate into manageable fragments and assembling a winning patchwork. The northern base shows signs of discontent. No problem: pivot to the Middle Belt. Emphasise religious balancing. Court new blocs. Reconfigure alliances. It is politics as spreadsheet management. But voters are not cells in Excel. As the strategists deliberate in their meeting rooms, they should remember that voters have memory, emotion, and increasingly, frustration. Fragmentation may win elections; it rarely builds legitimacy. Here, another timeless counsel applies—from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War: “When you surround an army, leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate foe too hard.” By weakening every viable alternative, the APC risks creating not submission, but desperation. As we have seen in the recent past, desperation is a far more dangerous political force.
Perhaps the most subtle (and concerning) dimension of this strategy is the perceived tilt of institutions. When INEC makes controversial moves, such as proposing voter card revalidation only to reverse it after public backlash. It sends an unfortunate signal: uncertainty at best, bias at worst. Similarly, selective interpretations of court rulings affecting opposition leadership raise eyebrows. This is not necessarily because they are unlawful, but because they appear convenient. In mature democracies, institutions act as referees. In fragile ones, they risk becoming players. For example, the recent court ruling to return to status quo ante bellum—simply explained by Femi Falana as reverting parties to their pre-dispute condition—was interpreted by INEC in a way that seemed to place it within the political contest. Once referees join the game, the game itself loses meaning.
Tinubu may be winning the battle but losing the war. Here lies the central irony: this strategy may actually work. Yes. Dismantle the opposition. Yes. Fragment voters. Yes. Consolidate power. Victory in 2027 becomes not just possible, but probable. But at what cost? A democracy where opposition is ornamental, voters feel cornered rather than convinced, and institutions are mistrusted, is not stable. It is a delayed crisis. Nigeria has seen something similar before. In 1996, the late Chief Bola Ige famously described the five political parties that endorsed Sani Abacha as “the five fingers of a leprous hand.” Today, one might argue that a similar pattern is emerging. Thirty years after, Tinubu’s strategists seem to be using the Abacha’s playbook and damning the potential ignoble consequences.
In politics, specific actions lead to specific outcomes and may have long-term consequences. Buhari’s reluctance to anoint a successor, and Osinbajo’s participation in the primaries, in 2023, may ultimately enhance their democratic legacy. Tinubu, a veteran of Nigeria’s pro-democracy struggle, has a unique opportunity to shape his own. He could aim not merely to win elections, but to strengthen democratic culture. Yet, the current trajectory suggests a different ambition: to win so thoroughly that the idea of losing becomes obsolete. This seems to be what is in the mind of Tinubu’s strategists. History, however, is rarely kind to such ambitions. Because in politics, as in life, when all opponents are eliminated, the only remaining adversary is the system itself.
El-Yakubu is a Professor of Chemical Engineering, Ahmadu Bello University byjibril@gmail.com.