The Pacesetter Frontier Magazine

Tag: 2027

  • 2027 and the Opposition’s Test

    2027 and the Opposition’s Test

    By Abdul Mahmud 

    A few days ago, opposition leaders gathered in Abuja. They called it a national political summit. Their mission was clear: to take back political power in 2027. In speeches laced with urgency and ambition, they signaled the start of a political war to win the hearts of the electorates. At the heart of this new resolve is the burning question: can the opposition really defeat Bola Tinubu’s ruling APC? On the surface, the resolve looks like a noble dream, and the mere push of love for power. But, dreams alone don’t win elections; or as my friend, Ayisha Osori, puts it more poignantly in her book, ‘Love Does Not Win Elections’. Power doesn’t fall into laps. It is taken through strategy, sacrifices, and unity. The opposition coalition must face the uncomfortable truths. They must ask themselves: are we truly ready? Or we are merely taking the citizens who are desperate to escape Tinubu’s nightmare for the ride?

    Right now, the opposition space is fragmented. The PDP, the biggest opposition party, is a shadow of its former self. Its governors bicker in public. Others inside it wear the party’s colours on their sleeves, yet their hearts beat the drums of power inside the ruling party where their personal selfish interests whisper louder than party loyalty and allegiance. Its presidential candidate in the 2023 election appears not to have a foothold on the party. The Labour Party, once the surprise of the last election, is struggling with identity and cohesion. Peter Obi remains popular, but his party lacks depth. Enter Sowore who has consistently presented himself as an insurgent at the gates of neoliberal power; and whose party, the African Action Congress, AAC , conflates radical struggles with petit bourgeois liberalism, and with ill-fitting rhetoric. In seeking to marry the fire of radicalism with bourgeois politics, Sowore mistakes the fact that he is operating within a bourgeois neoliberal political order for a radical political environment, with the presence of revolutionary conditions. He has to operate inside the coalition, posing an objective modernity that is rooted in emancipatory politics or what the British sociologist, Anthony Giddens, describes as “engagements concerned with the liberation from inequality”. Though, internal rifts and ego battles often threaten to reduce opposition coalition to a personal cult rather than a national political force organising for power, how the opposition coalition deals with the rifts over personal ambitions matters in aggregating unity within itself.

    There is a fundamental truth that I must lay bare here – one so central that it ought to serve as the rallying cry for all aggrieved citizens: that within the opposition coalition lies the last viable platform upon which their collective aspirations can be realised. It is not merely a political alignment, but a covenant of common purpose, the big tent under which the dispossessed, the disillusioned, and the determined can find both voice and vision. The orchestrated gale of defections, engineered from the commanding heights of power in our country, has done more than disrupt party lines; it has helped drain the political swamp, clarifying the landscape into a vivid binary: on one side, those content to watch the nation stagger deeper into the mire of misery and ruin; on the other, those resolved to staunch the bleeding and set the republic on the path of recovery and rebirth. This is no longer a matter of mere politics; it is a moral referendum. A battle between light and darkness, justice and impunity, hope and despair. The choice is stark, and the hour is upon us. I am in that hour and have chosen to be on the side of the opposition coalition.

    But, there is this familiar story worth retelling here that the opposition coalition can learn from elsewhere. One that mirrors the fate of Cambodia’s now-defunct opposition. In Cambodia, the ruling Cambodian People’s Party, CPP, led by Hun Sen, waged a quiet and effective war of attrition. It didn’t need to defeat the Cambodia National Rescue Party (CNRP) at the polls. It simply dismantled it. First, by using the courts to de-legitimise it. Then by orchestrating defections and stripping the party of its core. In 2017, the CNRP was dissolved by the Supreme Court. By then, its leaders were in exile or in prison. The party was gone. And so was any real challenge to Hun Sen’s rule. The opposition faces a similar threat. A sinister ministerial order to ‘close the shop’ dangles like a noose around the neck of the PDP, whose national secretariat in Abuja now sits under lock and key – sealed off for alleged non-payment of ground rent. Yet, beneath this ministerial veil of legalism lies the darker pretext: a crude attempt to slam-dunk the party out of existence, not through the ballot, but through the backdoor of state power wielded as vendetta. Also, APC is slowly drawing away influential voices. Defections are gathering momentum. Every defection erodes credibility. It tells voters that the opposition cannot protect or reward loyalty. And as it stands, neither PDP nor Labour has a coherent strategy to prevent further haemorrhage.

    But, defections are just one part of the challenge. The larger problem lies in the opposition’s inability to define itself. What does it stand for? Why should our citizens trust it? Removing Tinubu is not a vision. Citizens want to know what comes after. They want to know how the opposition coalition will end hunger, grow jobs, rebuild institutions, secure lives and secure their country. It is this clarity that is still missing. Though it isn’t late yet to pose and give clarity to all of this.

    The contrast with Senegal is instructive. In 2024, the Senegalese opposition did what many believed was impossible. It defeated the ruling elite and produced the country’s youngest president. This wasn’t luck. It was the result of years of tireless grassroots organising, unity, and ideological clarity. Even when their main figure, Ousmane Sonko, was jailed, the movement endured. The opposition didn’t collapse under pressure. Instead, it grew stronger. It didn’t focus on personalities. It focused on change. That discipline, that resilience, is what turned a protest movement into a governing force. The opposition coalition and its supporters and promoters continue to make elections about individuals. The Atiku-Obi rift cost the opposition dearly in 2023. Instead of presenting a united front, they split the base. Kwankwaso’s ambitions added another fracture. The APC didn’t win because it was popular. It won because the division allowed it to work and game the electoral process in a fraudulent way.

    And now, with 2027 on the horizon, that same lack of coordination is creeping back in. The Abuja summit was the first step. I welcome it, warts and all. But, walking the talk becomes cheap, a mirage, when unity of purpose is absent. Walking the talk begins with shared sacrifices. Someone must be willing to step aside. As Ousmane Sonko did in Senegal last year. Someone must lead the charge. As Diomaye Faye did. Others must fall in line. That’s the nature of coalition politics.

    Coalitions aren’t new to Africa. In Ghana, the National Democratic Congress has built enduring strength through consistent messaging and grassroots work. In Kenya, Raila Odinga’s ability to unify various political camps, despite internal contradictions, shows that coalition-building can deliver momentum. Our opposition coalition leaders must stop seeing each other as rivals and start behaving like allies. They need a memoranda of understandings. On consensus. On ambition. Not the ones signed in hotels but those signed in action. The practical roadmaps with timelines, benchmarks, and compromises. The opposition coalition must also overcome another major weakness: its detachment from the masses. Our citizens want change, but they don’t want elite quarrels. They want food, security, dignity, and a country that works for all. The Senegalese opposition understood this. They mobilised students, unions, and rural farmers. They protested. They forced the state to listen. The opposition coalition is still too focused on media sound bites and elite meetings.

    There’s also a lesson from the Philippines. Rodrigo Duterte didn’t come from the traditional elite. He spoke plainly. He sounded like the people. He wasn’t polished, but he was relatable. That authenticity gave him power. Behind him was a campaign machine that knew how to touch nerves. His supporters built online armies. They controlled narratives. They sold hope. He defeated an entrenched political dynasty because he knew how to connect with ordinary people. The opposition coalition should pay close attention. In 2023, the opposition tasted the power of social media. But it wasn’t enough. Opposition coalition doesn’t win elections alone online. It wins them in the cities, towns, villages, and hamlets. It wins them by convincing the citizens and build the coalition of the aggrieved around them. It wins them by building trust, one handshake with the citizens at a time. And it must organise, not just mobilise. Mobilisation is what serious opposition coalition does before elections. Organisation is what it builds between elections. The opposition coalition needs ward structures, data, election monitors, logistics hubs. It needs to recruit and train volunteers. It needs to know every local issue, every polling unit, and every INEC officer to deliver the message: rig and die. It doesn’t win elections by outrage; it wins by converting citizens’ outrage into protective bulwarks against rigging. It wins by planning.

    Time is not on the side of the opposition coalition. The APC has the tools of incumbency. It will play the ethnic card. Tinubu will argue that it’s still the South’s turn. The opposition must be ready to counter that narrative with a national message. It must present a pan-Nigerian ticket that appeals across the north and the south, across religion, across class. It must also confront the demons within. Ego, ethnicity, and ambition are the three poisons destroying the opposition. Too many leaders think they are saviours. They are unwilling to compromise. They want to lead, even if it means losing. That mindset must change. Politics is not about personal fulfilment. It’s about service. Those who cannot accept this should step aside.

    Ambition will also be a test, with eyes are on 2027. Atiku may run again. Obi is interested. Kwankwaso wants relevance. But there is only one ticket. Unless these men can sit together, agree on terms, and stick with them, the ruling party will coast to victory again. More importantly, the opposition coalition must also take defections seriously. Loyalty must be rewarded. Structures must be protected. There should be clear rules. Crossing to the ruling party shouldn’t be treated as a mere political mischief. It should be political treason. Voters must be made to see defectors as traitors, not heroes. That requires narrative control. It requires discipline. It requires a clear sense of identity.

    And that leads to the final point: the battle of stories. Every election is a contest of narratives. The opposition coalition must invest in storytelling. They must define the 2027 election before APC does. They must control the message. Not just in English, but in Hausa, Yoruba, Igbo, and Pidgin. They must craft a story of hope and urgency. A story that says: 2027 is about saving our country. They must tell this story in markets, at bus stops, on radio, on TikTok, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. They must reach the old and the young. They must inspire, but also instruct. They must be clear about what they will do differently. And they must say it often.

    History shows that opposition coalitions don’t win by accident. They win because they plan, they unite, they learn. Cambodia shows what happens when an opposition coalition doesn’t protect its base. Senegal shows what’s possible when it does. The Philippines shows how one man with a message can change the game. The opposition coalition still has time. But not much. If it starts now, I mean truly starts now, it can build something powerful. If not, the summit in Abuja will be just another jamboree. And 2027 will be a repeat of 2023- with stolen ballots and all that jazz.

    Our citizens are waiting, watchful, weary, but not without hope. The youths, disillusioned by empty rhetoric, now demand substance and not slogans. The old, mindful of the hourglass, yearn to walk hand-in-hand with the young, to pass on a country that works to the next generation before the final summons of death arrives. In this twilight of despair and flickers of hope, the opposition coalition stands at the cusp of possibility. It can give shape to these longings, give breath to a new covenant.

    I believe it, with the quiet urgency of faith.

  • The Next Election, Not the Next Generation

    The Next Election, Not the Next Generation

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Obasanjo has a singular talent for driving the blade deep into our country’s conscience. No former president wields words like him: pointed, layered, unflinching. To him, no subject is sacred. No figure, too revered. He dissects them all with the precision of a surgeon and the courage of a prophet. His commentary is never casual; it is always an incision that reveals the rot beneath. And yet, therein lies the paradox. For every truth he unveils, a shadow of himself appears silent and self-incriminating. His insights often sting not because they are false, but because they echo with the ghosts of his own complicity. Obasanjo holds up the mirror to our country, but his reflection too stands in the frame.

    Last week, the media echoed Obasanjo’s voice far and wide: “Those in power today are only concerned about the next election, not the next generation.” A simple sentence. Yet, it struck like thunder. It wasn’t just a criticism. It was a verdict. A stinging indictment of the smallness that defines our politics. In those few words, he laid bare the rot at the heart of our leadership. He revealed the depth of a crisis that our country has long normalised. While his words are the stones thrown at glasshouses, or made for applause or headlines, they are a wake-up call. A rough shaking from the dream of indifference. A call to reckon with who rulers of our country are becoming and what our country may soon lose if the rulers continue this way. He forces rulers to look beyond manifestos and microphones. To face the hollow out bottom of our national purpose. His voice, like a prophet’s, disturbs. And rightly so.

    Today, in our country, leadership has drifted far from its noble roots. It is no longer a call to serve, it has become the crab-like scramble for political survival. Tenure has replaced transformation. Power, not purpose, drives the engine of governance. Those who rule do so with eyes fixed on the next election, not the next generation. They govern with fear, not foresight; with calculation, not conviction. The idea of legacy has been replaced by the hunger for control. There is no dream, only strategy. No roadmap, only insidious ambition. Our rulers no longer plant trees whose shades they may never sit under. They build nothing that outlives them. And so, the future stands abandoned like a child waiting at a door that may never open. They govern to stay in power.

    Chinua Achebe captured it perfectly in his book, The Trouble with Nigeria. He said: “The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership.” Achebe’s words still ring true today. He saw through the façade long before the problems became this glaring. And, sadly, it seems like the situation has only gotten worse. The evidence is everywhere. Our schools are failing. Our hospitals, once mocked as mere consulting clinics, have now deteriorated into silent mortuaries – places where hope goes to die and the living fear to enter. The roads are full of potholes. Our youth are lost to hopelessness. And yet, our rulers are blind to these problems. The future of the next generation is compromised, and our rulers seem unfazed. They do not see the consequences of their failures.

    Why?

    Because they do not govern for the future.

    They govern for now. They do not care about legacy. They care only about tenure, elections, and power. They are too busy securing the next election to consider the next generation. This is why our policies are chaotic. They are short-sighted. Projects are started, only to be abandoned halfway. Behold the obsession with flyovers and the concrete madness that has gripped our governors, who mistake slabs and steel for progress, while the people beg for schools, hospitals, and clean water! Economic plans are announced, only to be forgotten. Education is neglected. Health care is ignored. Every promise made seems to fade away in the face of politics as usual.

    Our rulers do not plan for long-term prosperity. They want quick wins. They want to win the next election, not create lasting change. There is no grand vision, no blueprint for the future. All they see is the next vote, not the next generation. Take the education sector. It is broken. Teachers are underpaid. Schools are dilapidated. Classrooms are overcrowded. Students sit on floors. And they respond with empty promises. Meanwhile, the children of our rulers are sent abroad for better education. The system is rigged. The brightest minds are denied access to quality education, while mediocrity thrives. Health care is worse. Public hospitals are gone. They are underfunded, understaffed, and ill-equipped. Citizens die from preventable diseases because the system is broken. Yet, our rulers fly abroad for medical treatment. They neglect the very sector that could save lives. The hypocrisy is staggering.

    Security is another crisis. Bandits run rampant in the north. Terrorists control vast swathes of land. Kidnappers strike at will. The government’s response is slow, ineffective, and often political. The lives of ordinary citizens are sacrificed. The military is overstretched, fighting with outdated equipment. Yet, the government keeps increasing the defense budget. The country is on the brink, but no one seems to care. And what about democracy? It is in name only. Political parties are no more than patronage networks. Primaries are auctions. Candidates are chosen by godfathers, not the people. The electorate is sidelined. Citizens are ignored. Democracy has become a tool for self-interest, not service. Democracy has been emptied of its noble promise. It no longer serves the people; it serves the powerful. What was once a sacred covenant between the rulers and the citizens has become a ladder for personal gains. The Harvard scholars, Ziblatt and Levitsky were right in their book, How Democracies Die, that democracies rarely collapse with a bang; they erode slowly, as norms decay, institutions weaken, and those in power substitute the public good with private ambition. Our country is living that slow death. The guardrails meant to protect our republic have been kicked aside by those meant to uphold them. Citizens’ voices are drowned out by money and power.

    What future do our rulers offer the next generation? A country where mediocrity reigns? A country where merit is irrelevant? A country where the brightest minds leave, and the dullest stay behind? The future is bleak. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

    Obasanjo’s words are not new. They capture a pattern of failure. Our country has repeatedly stumbled over the same obstacles. Short-term thinking. Selfish politics. The same mistakes keep being made, and the people keep suffering. The Second Republic collapsed under the weight of selfish politics. Shagari’s government offered little reform. Babangida promised economic liberalisation but delivered economic disaster. Abacha’s rule was a period of looting and repression. Obasanjo’s second coming was marked by the failed attempt at a third term. Jonathan’s years were marked by wasted opportunities. Buhari’s tenure was marked by stagnation and inefficiency. Tinubu’s government is already failing disastrously.

    Each government has failed to deliver meaningful change. None has left a legacy worth remembering. All promised change, but none provided it. The same story repeats itself over and over. The citizens suffer, but the rulers remain unscathed. The long arc of history shows us the cost of ignoring the future. Countries that fail to plan, fail to survive. Rome fell not just because of the invasion of barbarians, but because of internal decay. The Ottoman Empire disintegrated because its leaders ignored the signs of decline. Mobutu’s Congo is a cautionary tale of mismanagement and corruption.

    But all is not lost. There is hope.

    Countries rise from the ashes of their mistakes. Rwanda, after its genocide, focused on rebuilding with a clear vision. Singapore, once poor and underdeveloped, invested in human capital and infrastructure. Leadership and vision made the difference. These countries did not dwell on the past. They focused on the future. They planned for the long term. Our country can rise too. But not with the current rulers. Our country needs a change. Our country needs leaders who care about more than just elections. Our country needs leaders who care about the future. Leaders who will leave a legacy for the next generation. Our country needs the politics of purpose, not of power.

    Our citizens must rise. They must demand better leadership. They must question the rulers. They must reject those who only care about power and self-interest. They must demand leaders who are willing to serve, not to rule. They must insist on transparency and accountability. They must reject tribalism and nepotism. Our citizens must abandon the politics of sentiment and begin to measure leadership by the weight of service, not the size of slogans. In a country scarred by broken promises, citizens can no longer afford to gamble their future on charisma without character. The ballot must become a moral instrument, wielded in favour of those whose hands bear the calluses of real work – men and women who have served not themselves, but the people; who have shown, in quiet diligence, a commitment to public good over private gains.

    Citizens must look beyond the billboards and the roadside crowds, and ask harder questions: Who has stood with them when the cameras weren’t rolling? Who has delivered when there were no political points to score? Leadership must be rooted in history, in evidence, in a lived ethic of care. It is time citizens voted not for those who promise paradise, but for those who have exalted them, built schools, reformed the system, or shielded the weak from the blows of the harsh state. Only then can democracy serve the living, and not just the powerful.

    A new political culture is needed. One that values service over self-interest. One that prioritises the future over the present. Every leader must be asked: What will you leave behind? It is not enough to simply win elections. Leadership is about building the country and the people, not just securing power. Mandela understood this. Lee Kuan Yew understood this. Kagame’s Rwanda shows that, even after great tragedy, countries can rebuild. Vision is essential. And leadership is key. Our country is a giant. But it is a sleeping giant. It is time to awaken her.

    If our rulers will not think of the next generation, the next generation must think of how to replace them. The citizens must rise. They must take charge of their future. History will remember not only the failure of leaders, but the courage of citizens who refused to surrender their fate to mediocrity. When those entrusted with our country’s future chose ambition over vision, it was the citizens who rose, not with arms, but with resolve; not with bitterness, but with purpose. Surely, history will record this for posterity: when the custodians of power abandoned their posts, active citizens stepped forward to reclaim the dreams of our country. They choose legacy over fleeting victory, substance over spectacle. They gave history something worthy to record.

    Obasanjo is right. Achebe was right. Now, it is the citizens’ turn to act right.

    History and the future wait for no man – including woman.