Alex Olutunbosun
There is a difference between political strategy and the erosion of principle. When that line is blurred, what emerges is not strength, but a dangerous precedence, one that can outlive its architect and ultimately weaken the very structure it was meant to protect.
What now appear as a quiet but consequential recognition of Ogun State Governor, Dapo Abiodun, as leader within the South-West political architecture of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, is one such anomaly that demands scrutiny. It is not merely puzzling; it is a troubling signal of how power may be recalibrating itself within the ruling party.
This is a path the president has walked before, and history is not kind to its outcomes. In the tense build-up to the 2023 elections, political lines were not as neatly drawn as public rhetoric suggested.
Ironically, some of those long perceived as beneficiaries of Tinubu’s political goodwill became hesitant, if not outright oppositional, to his presidential ambition. Among them were figures like Rauf Aregbesola, a two-term governor whose rise was significantly shaped by Tinubu’s political structure, and Femi Ojudu, a long-time associate from the pro-democracy era.
Governor Abiodun himself has not come out to refute reports linking him as part of this circle of ambivalence, aligning more visibly with the then Vice President, Yemi Osinbajo, whose own presidential aspiration placed him in direct contest with his political benefactor.
Yet, while dissent existed, so too did loyalty. Figures like Gbenga Daniel and other steadfast allies held the line, offering unambiguous support when it mattered most. Senator Ibikunle Amosun even stood down his aspiration, just so his brother from South-west emerges president.
These were individuals who did not hedge their bets, who did not recalibrate their loyalties in moments of uncertainty, and who helped sustain the political momentum that eventually carried Tinubu to victory. It is against this backdrop that the current elevation of Abiodun becomes not just questionable, but instructive, for all the wrong reasons.
The contradiction is stark. A leader once publicly diminished in Abeokuta, the Ogun State capital, through the now infamous “Eleyi” remark, a word that, within Yoruba sociopolitical context, conveys unmistakable condescension, is today being repositioned as a central figure in the President’s regional calculus. That reversal is not merely ironic; it is emblematic of a deeper inconsistency that risks redefining the moral compass of party politics.
Illustratively, the trajectory of Aregbesola stands as a cautionary tale. What began as a relationship rooted in trust and political mentorship gradually deteriorated into one of the most consequential fractures within the progressive fold. The fallout did not just strain personal ties; it destabilised party cohesion in Osun State with some scathing effects on Lagos as well as exposed the vulnerability of alliances built without enduring alignment.
The lesson should have been clear: loyalty, once discounted, is difficult to rebuild; rebellion, once normalised, is difficult to contain. Yet, the current pattern suggests that lesson is being overlooked.
The attempt to elevate Abiodun above long-standing loyalists, many of whom have been integral to the South-West political structure since its formative years, the President risks institutionalising a troubling precedence. It is one where strategic hesitation is forgiven, even rewarded, while consistency is quietly sidelined.
The implications are profound. First, it erodes internal morality within the party. Political organisations are sustained not just by power, but by shared expectations. When those expectations are disrupted, when loyalty is no longer the currency of advancement, what happens next is the beginning of the collapse of trust.
Second, it incentivises opportunism. If political actors come to believe that alignment at critical moments is optional, and that eventual reward is still guaranteed, then discipline gives way to calculation. The party becomes less of a cohesive force and more of a marketplace of shifting allegiances.
Third, it heightens the risk of repeated betrayal. Political history, both within and beyond Nigeria, shows that individuals who ascend through ambiguous loyalty often retain that ambiguity. Elevating such figures into strategic roles is not merely a gamble, it is a replication of a known risk.
Fourth, it breeds resentment among committed loyalists. Across Ogun State and the wider South-West, there are party members who have invested years, sometimes decades, in building grassroots structures. To see such investments overshadowed by what appears to be a reward for political and ideological fluidity is to invite quiet disaffection, the kind that often manifests when it matters most: at the ballot.
For the APC in Ogun State, the danger is immediate and tangible. A fractured internal structure heading into 2027 could weaken electoral confidence, deepen factional divides and as well, create openings for opposition forces. Elections are not won by proximity to power alone; they are secured by cohesive, motivated and trusted networks.
Even more concerning is the long-term implication, the post-Tinubu era. The president’s legacy would not be defined as enduring solely by his tenure in office, but by the resilience of the political structure he leaves behind. The APC, particularly in the South-West, is a product of sustained effort, sacrifice and strategic vision. To recalibrate its reward system in a way that diminishes loyalty is to risk leaving behind a weakened, fragmented organisation.
The anomaly becomes even more pronounced when local realities are considered. In Ogun East, political tensions and intra-party disputes continue to shape perceptions. Incidents such as the reported exclusion of Gbenga Daniel from key stakeholder engagements raise questions about inclusivity and internal democracy. If anything, such developments suggest a political environment that is far from consolidated.
In that context, the notion of continued recognition given to Abiodun, potentially positioning him for broader influence or future contests, appears not only contentious but strategically fragile. Rather than strengthening the party’s base, it risks amplifying existing fractures. This is where the question of value becomes unavoidable: what exactly is being rewarded? If the answer is political expediency, then the cost may be far greater than the immediate gain.
Leadership demands more than tactical brilliance. It requires consistency, memory and the discipline to learn from precedent.
Agreeably, President Tinubu’s political journey is defined by resilience and strategic depth, even at that, he must be reminded that the most seasoned actors must guard against repeating patterns that history has already exposed as flawed.
The warning, therefore, is neither personal nor sentimental, it is structural. A system that rewards rebellion over loyalty cannot not build stability; it cultivates uncertainty. It does not inspire confidence; it encourages calculation. And ultimately, it does not endure; it fragments.
For the sake of the APC in Ogun State, for the stability of the South-West political architecture, and for the integrity of the legacy he has laboured to build, this is a lesson President Tinubu cannot afford to ignore.
*Olutunbosun wrote from Ijoko in Ogun State.
