Politics at its most elementary level, is an engagement with human reality. It can neither be sustained by rhetoric alone nor can it indefinitely override the lived experiences of the people. It is true that where hardship is persistent and dignity eroded, no volume of “happy talk” or propaganda or gingering of hope or “renewed hope” can substitute for material improvement yet in a troubling inversion of this logic, many political actors in African and other developing societies appear to believe precisely the opposite. They for curious reasons believe that citizens can be persuaded, distracted, or pacified into accepting conditions that steadily degrade their existence.
In Nigeria, this illusion has matured into a governing doctrine. Decades of economic hardship, infrastructural decay, insecurity, and institutional collapse have been endured by the masses but their endurance has been dangerously misread by the ruling class as consent. What is, in truth, a forced resilience born of necessity is interpreted as docility. My view is that this miscalculation may well be the most perilous assumption any political elite can make.
History offers little comfort to those who govern with such arrogance. It is replete with leaders who emerged through ostensibly democratic processes but, intoxicated by power, subverted the very systems that elevated them. They governed with impunity, suppressed dissent, and relied on the coercive apparatus of the state only to be swept away not by military coups, but by the collective force of popular unrest.
Consider the following:
Ferdinand Marcos of the Philippines, elected in 1965, who devolved into authoritarian rule under martial law. Despite years of repression, he was ousted during the People Power Revolution (February 22–25, 1986), a largely civilian uprising that overwhelmed state force.
Slobodan Milošević of Serbia, who rose through electoral politics but entrenched autocracy and electoral manipulation, was removed following mass protests culminating on October 5, 2000.
Hosni Mubarak of Egypt, in power for nearly three decades, fell during the Egyptian Revolution (January 25 – February 11, 2011) after sustained mass demonstrations.
Blaise Compaoré of Burkina Faso, who initially came to power through a coup but later legitimized himself electorally, was forced out by a popular uprising on October 30–31, 2014 when he attempted constitutional manipulation to extend his rule.
Omar al-Bashir of Sudan, though originally a coup leader, maintained a civilian façade through controlled elections and was eventually toppled after nationwide protests on April 11, 2019.
The pattern is unmistakable: regimes that rely on force, manipulation, and contempt for public suffering often assume permanence until they collapse abruptly under the weight of accumulated grievance.
Nigeria’s own history of civil unrest provides a sobering backdrop, though with a crucial distinction because although protests have been frequent, they have not yet culminated in regime change. Nigeria has had several protests through the decades but none was able to oust or force governments out of Power. I’d mention;
The Aba Women’s Riot (November–December 1929)- a mass anti-colonial revolt against taxation policies.
The “Ali Must Go” students’ protests (1978)- nationwide unrest against educational policy under military rule.
The Western Region Crisis and Election Riots (1965–1966) which violent upheavals triggered by electoral manipulation.
The June 12 Protests (1993–1994) which followed the annulment of a democratic election.
The End SARS Protests (October 2020), a youth-led movement against police brutality.
The End Bad Governance Protests (August 2024) which was driven by acute economic hardship and inflationary pressures.
Each of these movements was ultimately suppressed either by force or by the strategic exploitation of Nigeria’s fault lines: ethnicity, religion, and class divisions. None succeeded in toppling the central government. That historical outcome has likely emboldened successive administrations to believe that all dissent can be contained.
It is within this context that the current administration of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu needs to be critically examined. Though he continues to invoke his pro-democracy credentials (particularly his association with the anti-military struggles of the 1990s), the conduct of his presidency raises difficult questions.
A dispassionate assessment of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s democratic commitment suggests an overwhelming preoccupation or obsession with political perpetuation, particularly in relation to the 2027 general elections. Allegations widely discussed in political circles include systematic interference in opposition party cohesion, strategic manipulation of electoral processes, and the deployment of vast financial resources through formal and informal campaign structures. Whether through the disruption of rival parties via internal litigation, the controversial timing and interpretation of electoral guidelines, or expansive patronage networks masked as palliative distribution, the pattern reflects a singular objective: political entrenchment.
This approach reveals a deeper assumption that the electorate can be managed through inducement rather than governance. Bags of rice, cash transfers, and symbolic gestures are deployed as substitutes for structural reform even as the familiar narratives (that hardship is temporary, that painful policies are necessary, that transformation requires time) are invoked. These arguments, while not inherently invalid, lose credibility when unaccompanied by visible, good-faith efforts to alleviate suffering.
A pertinent question then, is this;
why do some political leaders fail to recognize limits? Why is restraint so elusive amongst Politicians in Nigeria ? The ancient observation that “those whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad” stripping them of perception (sight, hearing, smell) and judgment captures, metaphorically, the trajectory of leaders who become insulated from reality. Power, when unchecked, distorts judgment. It breeds overconfidence, then contempt, and ultimately strategic blindness.
If even a fraction of the immense resources reportedly deployed toward electoral engineering were redirected toward tangible improvements like steady electricity supply, functional education systems, and credible security architecture, the political calculus might be entirely different but tragically, instead, what appears to be unfolding in Nigeria is a reliance on a familiar triad: division, patronage, and coercion. The belief that any uprising can be quelled by security forces; police, military, intelligence services rests on the assumption of their absolute loyalty and operational effectiveness. It also assumes that public anger will remain fragmented but both assumptions are historically fragile.
It’s foolhardy for any government or leader to believe that they can ignore the feelings of Citizens and happy-talk them out of the realities of their lives. Good governance itself is the most potent, the most effective campaign strategy. It builds legitimacy, disarms opposition, and fosters voluntary political loyalty. A government that materially improves the lives of its citizens rarely needs to coerce their support. That said, Nigeria today presents a uniquely volatile configuration. Economic distress has reached unprecedented levels, cutting across regional and social boundaries. Simultaneously, shifting political alliances particularly in Northern Nigeria, where perceptions of exclusion and displacement from traditional power structures are intensifying, introduce a new layer of unpredictability. The convergence of mass hardship with elite disaffection is often the precursor to systemic rupture.
The lesson from history is not that unrest will inevitably topple governments, but that past patterns do not guarantee future outcomes. To rely on the historical suppression of protests as evidence of perpetual control is to misunderstand both history and human nature. Conditions evolve and thresholds shift.
It’s on the Cards that Nigeria will reach a tipping point at some point. When is what I don’t know. I won’t hazard any guess even if 2027 seems likely to be the time considering that the political climate now is analogous to the situation in a Pressure Cooker with no Air Vent or Steam Discharge Orifice. What I am confident about is that Nigeria will eventually get to its tipping point. The tipping point may not necessarily be through a single coordinated revolution, but through the cumulative force of widespread, uncontainable dissent.
The consequence of choices of leaders who mistake endurance for submission, and power for permanence are often tragic. The tragedy outcomes from mass uprisings by desperate, frustrated and very angry people many of who feel that they’ve lost their dignity and have nothing else to lose are rarely predictable as per damage. .……
By Obi J. Iwuchukwu Esq.
May 3, 2026.
OBLONG MEDIA GLOBAL INTELLIGENCE 
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