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Tinubu’s top-down, one-partyist reelection strategy, By Farooq Kperogi

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Case for replicating the Oyo kidnap-rescue template nationwide, By Farooq Kperogi
Farooq Kperogi

Tinubu’s top-down, one-partyist reelection strategy, By Farooq Kperogi

What most Nigerians recognize as Nigeria’s creeping descent into stifling one-partyism, with what seems like the unstoppably expanding defections of major elected officials into the APC, is actually only President Bola Tinubu’s reelection strategy.

It is a strategy that may well unravel after the 2027 presidential election, but whose immediate effects are already distorting the country’s democratic ecosystem and hollowing out the meaning of political choice.

Tinubu’s consuming monomania for assembling all governors and legislators under the notional banner of the APC is structurally and substantively similar to previous presidents’ single-minded political expansionism under the PDP.

That earlier expansionism also provoked loud cries of one-partyist dictatorship from the commentariat and political opponents. History, it seems, is being cynically reenacted by people who had claimed to have learned from it.

If you go back in time and read stories, editorials, and analyses from or about the 1999 to 2014 PDP era, you will see sustained arguments that Nigeria was being nudged toward a de facto one-party system.

The fear then was that opposition parties were rendered functionally irrelevant through a venomous mix of incumbency power, institutional capture, induced defections and the systematic shrinking of political alternatives.

For instance, in an August 26, 2003, analysis in ThisDay titled “The Spectre of One-Party Rule,” Chukwudi Nwabuko relied on the late Pa Abraham Adesanya’s grim exhortation to frame the PDP’s 2003 electoral dominance (and the corresponding weakening of opposition parties) as indicative of a mordant slide toward one-party democratic autocracy. The anxiety was grounded in what Nigerians were witnessing in real time: an opposition that could barely breathe, let alone challenge power.

In a May 30, 2007, report after the presidential election that returned Umaru Musa Yar’adua as president, the International Crisis Group said the outcome marked a “further slide towards a one-party state.” It argued that PDP’s dominance was reinforced through captured institutions, selective anti-corruption pressure and especially rigged elections.

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This was not partisan rage. It was sober analysis by observers who had little interest in Nigerian party loyalties but a keen interest in democratic health.

In fact, in April 2008, then PDP chairman Vincent Ogbulafor bragged that the “PDP will rule for 60 years,” a statement that quickly became a trope of one-party symbolism. “I don’t care if Nigeria becomes a one-party state,” Ogbulafor said.

That boast is now memorialized as a defining rhetorical emblem of PDP-era political hubris, a moment when arrogance briefly dispensed with euphemism.

By September 19, 2010, a Reuters dispatch on a major resignation to challenge Goodluck Jonathan in PDP primaries casually included the assessment that Nigeria was “close to being a one-party state.” That line was telling. It showed how widely the one-partyist frame had spread beyond domestic commentary into international reportage. Nigeria’s democratic drift had become legible to outsiders.

It was against this background that Tinubu and his allies cast themselves as insurgents against PDP hegemony. They denounced the PDP’s one-partyist tendencies, mocked its hubris, and promised a more competitive political order. Now that Tinubu sits atop the same power structure, the irony is almost operatic. The script he once criticized is the same one he is now directing.

So why is Tinubu, who echoed the sentiments of the drift to one-partyism under the PDP and challenged it with all he had, playing the same game? There are two reasons I can divine for this, and neither flatters him nor augurs well for Nigeria’s democracy.

First, even the most hopelessly fanatical Tinubu supporter cannot deny that Tinubu’s domestic economic policies have been an unrelieved disaster for the vast majority of people.

With fuel subsidy gone, the naira aggressively devalued, petrol prices through the rooftops, an inflationary conflagration tearing everything apart, hunger on the rise, insecurity effectively democratized, hope on the run, and a looming taxation regime rooted in a legally questionable law, Tinubu has no positive record to run on.

There is nothing in the lived experience of most Nigerians that he can point to and say, “This is why you should renew my mandate.”

Economic pain can sometimes be sold as tough but necessary reform if people can see light at the end of the tunnel. In Tinubu’s case, the tunnel keeps getting darker, and the promised light keeps receding. In such circumstances, appealing directly to the electorate becomes politically suicidal.

Which brings me to the second reason. For the 2027 election, Tinubu will not directly appeal to everyday Nigerians to vote for him. Instead, he will take a circuitous route: he will ask governors to deliver votes for him in exchange for his support for their own reelections.

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It is a transactional politics stripped of pretense, a politics that treats voters as passive objects to be mobilized, coerced or managed by local power brokers.

So, like the PDP he once opposed, Tinubu is banking on governors, not the ordinary voters he governs, to reelect him for a second term. He is instrumentalizing the power of incumbency to bludgeon politicians into the APC, thereby transforming what should be a contest of ideas into a consolidation of power.

The mass defection of elected officials also achieves another crucial effect. It helps construct a notion of the inevitability of Tinubu’s reelection. If most of the governors of the federation are already in the APC and are actively campaigning for the president’s second term, what, many people will ask, is the point of opposing him?

This is a powerful rhetorical maneuver designed to demoralize the critical electorate and sap the energy of opposition forces. It encourages political apathy and fatalism. It nudges even those who dislike the government into thinking that resistance is futile, that the outcome is already predetermined.

That sense of inevitability is perhaps the most insidious weapon in the one-partyist arsenal. You do not need to ban opposition parties if you can convince people that opposing the ruling party is a waste of time. You do not need to rig every ballot if you can first rig expectations.

But history offers a cautionary tale that Tinubu and his strategists would do well to remember. The PDP once believed its dominance was permanent. It mistook elite defections for popular consent. It confused the silence of intimidation with the endorsement of legitimacy. When the reckoning came in 2015, it came swiftly and decisively.

One-partyist strategies can win elections, but they corrode the moral foundations of power. They produce brittle victories and hollow mandates. They also create pent-up frustrations that eventually find expression, often in unexpected and destabilizing ways.

Tinubu’s top-down reelection strategy may very well work in the short term. Governors may deliver. Legislators may comply. Opposition parties may fracture further.

But a democracy reduced to elite transactions is a democracy living on borrowed time. The deeper question is not whether Tinubu can secure a second term this way, but what kind of country will be left behind when the illusion of inevitability finally collapses.

Happy New Year to my readers!

Tinubu’s top-down, one-partyist reelection strategy, By Farooq Kperogi

Farouk Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based professor of Journalism

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Opinion

UI, UCH and the Question of Inclusive Leadership

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UI, UCH and the Question of Inclusive Leadership
Saudi-based Nigerian Islamic scholar, Mallam Ibrahim Agunbiade

UI, UCH and the Question of Inclusive Leadership

By Mallam Ibrahim Agunbiade
agunbiadeib@gmail.com

July 23, 2026

The appointment of Professor Peter Olamakinde Olapegba as the 14th substantive Vice-Chancellor of the University of Ibadan (UI), effective November 1, 2026, is deserving of congratulations. I wish him a successful tenure as he takes on the responsibility of leading Nigeria’s premier university.

The reported competitive process through which he emerged—following the assessment of eight candidates and the shortlisting of five for the final stage—is commendable, provided it was conducted transparently and strictly on merit.

However, this development also raises an important question that deserves honest and constructive discussion: When will a qualified Muslim have the opportunity to emerge as Vice-Chancellor of the University of Ibadan?

This question is not directed at Professor Olapegba or his Christian faith. If he emerged as the best candidate through a fair and transparent process, then he deserves the support of all Nigerians. My concern is whether qualified Nigerians of different faiths enjoy equal opportunities to compete for the highest leadership positions in our national institutions.

The same question applies to the University College Hospital (UCH), Ibadan, where a change in leadership is expected in the coming months. It is therefore time for stakeholders to begin constructive conversations about the appointment of the next Chief Medical Director (CMD).

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I believe that qualified and competent Muslim professionals should be encouraged and given a fair opportunity to compete for the position. If the best candidate happens to be a Muslim, there should be no hesitation in appointing that individual. Equally, if the best candidate is a Christian or belongs to another faith, the same principle of merit should apply.

This is not a call for religious quotas or preferential treatment. Rather, it is a call for a level playing field.

A Muslim should not be appointed simply because he is a Muslim, just as a Christian should not be appointed simply because he is a Christian. Leadership must be based on competence, integrity, experience, and the capacity to deliver.

However, merit can only be meaningful when every qualified candidate has a genuine opportunity to compete without bias or discrimination.

The University of Ibadan and UCH are national institutions that belong to all Nigerians. Their leadership should therefore reflect the principles of fairness, inclusiveness, equal opportunity, and merit.

As Professor Olapegba prepares to assume office, I congratulate him once again and wish him a successful tenure. At the same time, I believe this is the right moment to ask whether our leadership selection processes truly provide equal opportunities for all qualified Nigerians.

As the succession process at UCH approaches, I urge stakeholders to ensure that no qualified candidate is excluded—consciously or unconsciously—because of religious identity. Let the process be transparent, competitive, and firmly anchored on merit.

I am not asking for a Muslim to be appointed simply because he is a Muslim. I am asking that no qualified Muslim should be denied the opportunity to lead simply because of his religious identity.

The same principle should apply to every Nigerian, regardless of faith or background.

Let merit prevail. Let competence prevail. Let fairness prevail.

 

UI, UCH and the Question of Inclusive Leadership

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Case for replicating the Oyo kidnap-rescue template nationwide, By Farooq Kperogi

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Case for replicating the Oyo kidnap-rescue template nationwide, By Farooq Kperogi
Farooq Kperogi

Case for replicating the Oyo kidnap-rescue template nationwide, By Farooq Kperogi

Because human beings are prone to perceive nonexistent patterns, connections and intentional design even in random or unrelated events, a cognitive tendency called apophenia, and because Nigerians have an enduring and justified mistrust of government, I have seen many people question whether the abduction and rescue of pupils and teachers from three schools in the Yawota and Ahoro-Esinele communities of Oriire Local Government Area in Oyo State really happened.

The mistrust is legitimate, but I find the apophenic leap from mistrust to the conclusion that the entire episode was staged a little unsettling.

I am convinced by the available evidence that pupils and teachers were indeed abducted by despicably homicidal terrorists. I have seen no credible evidence that any government paid criminals to stage the spectacle of an abduction and rescue.

Contemporary reporting documented the May 15 attacks, identified abducted children and teachers, interviewed their relatives and recorded the killing of two teachers before the surviving captives regained their freedom.

Terrorist groups have been abducting and killing innocent students for more than a decade and have never needed prompting from politicians to do so. Attributing their heinous crimes to sponsorship by rival factions within the Nigerian political class unintentionally exculpates these scoundrels and converts murderers into mere instruments of political intrigue.

That said, there is no complete clarity about how the pupils and teachers regained their freedom. Government critics have alleged, without evidence, that a huge ransom was paid as a precondition for their release. As I will show later, I doubt this.

But the government’s version of how the pupils and teachers were rescued is not entirely coherent, either.

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The Presidency initially described the rescue as the outcome of a successful joint military, police and intelligence operation. It said eight suspected kidnappers were arrested, other members of the group were killed and neither ransom nor a prisoner exchange was involved. The abductors had allegedly demanded the release of a detained terrorist leader, but the government said he remained in custody and was being prosecuted.

The Army’s subsequent account was less dramatic than the Presidency’s early language suggested. It did not say troops stormed the camp and physically extracted the hostages during a firefight. Instead, it said a month-long intelligence operation identified the group’s leaders, informants, logistical networks and hideouts. According to the Army, arrests disrupted the group and exerted pressure that “ultimately led the terrorist group to unconditionally release the pupils and teachers.”

In a July 10 interview with Tinubu-owned TVC News, former DSS operative Seyi Adetayo offered a more specific but as yet uncorroborated explanation of the operational modalities of the rescue. He claimed that government security operatives identified and detained some kidnappers’ mothers, wives, children and other associates, sent recordings of those arrests to the abductors and combined coercive pressure with intelligence operations. He also claimed that the terrorists were warned that harm to their captives would bring harm to their relatives.

Based on the available evidence, the most defensible interpretation of what happened is that this was an unusually collaborative, intelligence-driven and coercively negotiated release. It was probably not a conventional battlefield rescue. Nor does it appear to have been a ransom-propelled release.

This actually fills me with hope. It means the government may have found a potentially effective template for disrupting terrorist networks and rescuing their victims without exposing abductees to the indiscriminate violence of a frontal military assault.

But the part of the template worth replicating is its lawful core: interagency cooperation, careful intelligence gathering, the identification of terrorist networks, the disruption of their supply routes and the arrest of culpable collaborators.

There would be no greater evidence for the truth of the government’s account of the Oriire rescue than the successful replication of its methods in unresolved mass-abduction cases nationwide.

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The February 3-4 terrorist assault on Woro and neighboring Nuku communities in Kaiama Local Government Area of Kwara State not only killed scores of people but also led to a mass abduction. UNICEF reported that around 176 women, including pregnant women, and children were kidnapped from Woro.

More than five months later, the victims have not been released, according to the latest public reports. The terrorists have released videos showing women and small children appealing desperately for intervention. They, too, need the collaborative intelligence-gathering energies that security agencies deployed in Oyo.

On May 15, suspected militants abducted 42 children from Mussa Primary and Junior Secondary School and surrounding homes in Askira-Uba Local Government Area of Borno State. Some of the abductees were extremely young. According to the latest available reporting, all 42 remain missing.

There was a separate school attack in Lassa town in the same local government area in Borno on June 29. Gunmen attacked Government Day Secondary School while students were taking examinations. Eight people were rescued, but 36 students and one staff member remain captive. The students comprised 25 girls and 11 boys.

On June 7, in Magamin Diddi village in Maradun Local Government Area of Zamfara State, bandits reportedly invited villagers to what was presented as a peace meeting and then abducted them. The police confirmed that 39 people were taken, although community estimates were as high as 50. The kidnappers reportedly demanded ₦125 million and released some captives to communicate the demand. There has been no authoritative public account of the remaining captives’ release.

Nor should the passage of time cause older victims to disappear from the national conscience. Eighty-nine of the Chibok schoolgirls abducted in 2014 remain officially unaccounted for. Their families have endured more than a decade of promises, occasional discoveries and prolonged uncertainty.

There are many more cases than I have the space to chronicle in this column. Security forces presumably have records of mass abductions, including many that never made the national news. Yet Nigeria has developed a disturbing ritual in which outrage follows an abduction, officials promise decisive action and public attention eventually moves elsewhere while families remain imprisoned in terrifyingly crippling uncertainty.

The true test of the Oyo operation is not the applause it generated after one dramatic success but the number of forgotten captives its methods can bring home. If its intelligence model worked as the government says it did, it should become a national operational doctrine rather than a self-contained public-relations trophy.

Replicating it in Woro, Mussa, Lassa, Magamin Diddi and other communities would simultaneously rescue imperiled citizens, restore public faith in the capacity of the government to perform its primary duty and begin to extirpate a kidnapping economy that has destroyed communal peace and individual peace of mind across Nigeria. Until that happens, Oyo remains an encouraging breakthrough, but not yet a proven national template.

 

 

Case for replicating the Oyo kidnap-rescue template nationwide, By Farooq Kperogi

Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based professor of journalism 

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Shettima’s final test, by Azu Ishiekwene

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Azu Ishiekwene
Azu Ishiekwene

Shettima’s final test, by Azu Ishiekwene

Shettima’s final test, by Azu Ishiekwene

•Ishiekwene is the Editor-In-Chief of LEADERSHIP and author of the book, Writing for Media and Monetising It. 

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