Nigeria stands today at a delicate crossroads. Beneath the surface of political alignments and shifting loyalties lies a deeper question—what lessons are being taught, and to whom, in the unfolding theatre of governance under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu?
This is not merely about one administration succeeding another. It is about the gradual shaping of a political culture—one that may outlive the present moment and define how power is acquired, held, and, more importantly, retained.
Across the country, particularly in the North, there is a quiet but keen observation of how power is being structured. President Tinubu has shown uncommon political dexterity—building alliances, weakening opposition, and expanding influence across regions. It is strategic, no doubt. But it is also instructional.
Nigeria today is drifting, slowly but noticeably, toward a dominant-party reality. Opposition voices are thinning. Defections are becoming routine. The space for ideological contest is narrowing. And history has shown that when a nation begins to look like a one-party state, democracy does not die suddenly—it fades.
For us in the South, there is an added layer of concern.
The Yoruba political tradition, from which President Tinubu emerges, has always been rooted in resistance and accountability. In the South-West, people speak up. They question authority. They protest when governance falters. It is a culture that has helped to check excesses of power over time.
But Nigeria is not uniform in political temperament.
In the North, power has often been approached with a deeper sense of continuity and cohesion. There is patience, but also a long memory. There is structure. And when power is consolidated, it is rarely relinquished without resistance.
This is where the caution becomes necessary.
If the current style of political consolidation is studied, internalised, and eventually inherited by a Northern leadership, then after the South has had its turn, it will be the turn of the North again—only this time, with a more refined understanding of how to hold power firmly. And from the signals we are seeing today, one cannot ignore the possibility that when that moment comes, relinquishing power may not come easily.
History offers us a warning we must not ignore.
In 1966, Major General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi attempted to unify Nigeria through the Unification Decree. What he saw as a pathway to national cohesion was interpreted elsewhere as an overreach—a centralisation that threatened the balance of the federation. The reaction was swift. The counter-coup that followed did not just remove a government; it altered the course of Nigeria’s history and deepened divisions that would later erupt into civil war.
The point is simple: when power begins to appear concentrated or skewed, reactions come—sometimes quietly, sometimes violently, but always consequential.
President Tinubu must be careful.
The same political mastery that is strengthening his hold on the system today could, if unchecked, become the blueprint for a future where power is no longer negotiable. What is being normalised now may be weaponised later.
For Southern Nigeria, this is not the time for complacency. It is a time for awareness.
We must not celebrate political dominance without asking what it leaves behind. We must not be carried away by temporary advantage without thinking about long-term consequences. Power is not just about who holds it today, but about the systems we create for tomorrow.
Because when the balance shifts—and it always does—the South may find itself confronting a structure it helped to legitimise but can no longer influence.
Nigeria must remain a country where power rotates not just in theory, but in practice. Where opposition is not silenced, but strengthened. Where governance is not about entrenchment, but about accountability.
Anything less is a risk.
And for those of us in the South, it is a risk we cannot afford to ignore.
•Dr Ofoye, a public affairs analyst, wrote from Lagos