Coalitions, Crossovers & The Cost Of Choice In Nigerian Politics

Coalitions, Crossovers, and the Cost of Choice in Nigerian Politics

Since 1999, the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) held the reins of Nigeria’s political space, dominating both the presidency and most state governments as well as legislative houses. At the time, democracy was a fresh wind blowing across a land previously ruled with military iron fists. Unsurprisingly, early democratic governments were often assessed against their military predecessors—a comparison that spilled well into the 21st century.

The emergence of President Olusegun Obasanjo at the dawn of this democratic era did more than just restore civilian governance. It also sought to heal old wounds, especially the lingering resentment from the annulment of the June 12 elections. In what many perceived as a symbolic apology to the Yorubas, a Yoruba man was handed the mantle of leadership. This gesture, among other factors, gave the PDP an unearned upper hand—not because of ideological strength, but because of a shared willingness among Nigerians to cooperate and move forward.

In reality, the personality of the party’s presidential flagbearer—who often doubled as the face of the PDP—was the magnet that drew or repelled alliances. The ability to manage party members’ ambitions, temper their discontent, and dole out political incentives determined whether defections were minimized or rampant.

For opposition parties, success came only in pockets—where strongmen, respected and admired within their states, held sway. Their loyalty to party lines was not necessarily rooted in principle, but in personal wealth and political influence. A financially grounded opposition figure with deep political ties had little need to jump ship. But when those wells ran dry, defections followed like night follows day.

Strongmen in Nigerian politics have always known when to wield the carrot or swing the stick. The most successful among them alternated between warmth and indifference, depending on what their end goal demanded. Others, who stuck rigidly to a single approach, found themselves alienating potential allies and isolating themselves in the process.

Yet, whenever an opposition figure gained real momentum—backed by both financial muscle and genuine connections—the ripple effect reached far beyond his immediate domain. That, in truth, is how incumbents are defeated.

The PDP, despite policy failures and dwindling public goodwill, continued to hold sway for years, thanks to the opposition’s fragmentation. It wasn’t until the opposition parties realized the power of true cooperation that Nigerian politics took a new turn. The formation of the All Progressives Congress (APC) as a coalition of previously fragmented forces was a masterstroke. Though these parties had tasted victory at state levels, none had cracked the code at the center—until they did.

The APC redefined democracy in Nigeria by becoming the first political coalition to unseat a sitting party at the presidential level. The architects of this coalition—General Muhammadu Buhari and Asiwaju Bola Tinubu—were regional titans. Buhari commanded unwavering loyalty across the North, while Tinubu had an iron grip on the Southwest. They had no pressing need to unite, yet their shared discontent with the PDP galvanized them. Their union was the embodiment of the saying: when two elephants agree to march, even the forest trembles.

In 2015, their alliance birthed a political tsunami. The PDP was not just defeated—it was displaced. While Buhari brought integrity and a grassroots connection to the table, Tinubu brought political strategy and people skills. It was a fusion of character and cunning, and Nigerians—hungry for change—bought into the promise, even if they didn’t fully understand what that change would entail.

However, the PDP’s decline wasn’t merely the result of external opposition. Its lack of ideological backbone meant that its identity was tethered to whoever led it at the time. It was, in many ways, a movement of convenience, not conviction.

Conversely, the APC's strength lay in mutual respect and honor. Buhari was known for his uprightness, Tinubu for his political savvy—even on a bad day, the combination was potent.

The 2015 victory gave the APC a foothold in the center. Though the PDP retained strongholds in the South-South, South-East, parts of the Southwest, and the North, the tide had turned. Determined to cement its gains, the APC began investing in opposition territories and building new political bridges.

By 2019, the APC again emerged victorious as the opposition failed to present a united front. Atiku Abubakar and Peter Obi, though popular, were unable to break the bond forged by Buhari and Tinubu. In 2023, history repeated itself—only this time, the vote was split three ways. Atiku took his share, Obi carved out his own, and Tinubu clinched the presidency by leaning on an already established structure that gave him the edge in tight margins.

The fatal flaw of the opposition has been fragmentation. Their divided aspirations translated into divided votes—and ultimately, defeat.

Now, in 2025, the African Democratic Congress (ADC) is aiming to dethrone the APC. But this is no fresh narrative. The ADC seeks to beat the APC at its own game. For this coalition to succeed, it will require something rare in Nigerian politics: personal concessions. Many within the ADC are disillusioned with the ruling government, yet each harbors individual ambitions to lead. The coalition will only succeed if its members can set aside egos and work in genuine unity. Otherwise, history will repeat itself yet again.

Coalitions are tricky business. Unlike one-man parties, they brim with tension and competing interests. Yet when they work, they birth historic moments. Many within the ADC have roots in either the PDP or APC. There is no fresh ideology to sell—just recycled faces with revamped pitches. The only thing they can sell now is themselves.

Nigerians, for their part, have evolved. Once content with a one-dimensional menu, they’ve now tasted both jollof rice and fried rice at the presidential level. With their palates sharpened, they will no longer accept just anything off the political shelf.

In today's Nigeria, voting for a president is no longer a blind leap—it’s a choice of preference. Do I prefer jollof rice or fried rice? You can’t have both at the same time. Choose you this day your flavor.

The Nigerian system, for all its flaws, rewards leaders who play to their strengths. A capacity builder shines in capacity building. An infrastructure enthusiast builds roads and rails. A reformer reforms institutions. No one delivers it all, but each offers a different seasoning to the national dish.

It’s good to pray for one’s country, but it’s even better to build it. If every citizen plays their part, every administration can make a positive difference. As one acts toward the nation, so the nation will act toward him. For anyone to enjoy the good of the land, they must come prepared—with clean hands and a willing heart.