Perez Adekunle
The death of the former President Muhammadu Buhari yesterday in London closes one of the most consequential chapters in Nigeria’s Fourth Republic. Buhari, whatever one makes of his legacy, was not just a former head of state; he was the symbolic anchor of a political movement, the face of Northern conservative populism, and the reason why the CPC faction stayed within the APC fold, even when it seemed evident that the soul of the party had long shifted southward.
His passing doesn’t just leave a vacuum of sentiment; it leaves behind hard political calculations. In his absence, the last thread holding certain interests together within the APC may finally snap. Add to that the emergence of a new coalition of heavyweights under the banner of the African Democratic Congress (ADC), and the terrain heading into 2027 suddenly looks more volatile and more open.
Let’s be honest: APC has always been a coalition of contradictions. The 2013 merger was a pragmatic power grab between strange bedfellows. Buhari’s CPC brought northern grassroots support and trust; Tinubu’s ACN brought structure, resources, and deep roots in the South-West; the remnants of the ANPP and a faction of the New PDP added bulk. But it was Buhari’s gravitas that kept the coalition stitched together, even as the internal balance tilted increasingly toward the ACN bloc post-2015.
Now that Buhari is gone, and with many CPC loyalists already murmuring about marginalisation under Tinubu’s presidency, what incentive remains for them to stay? For years, the argument was that loyalty to Buhari demanded patience. That argument died with him yesterday.
A post-Buhari CPC bloc may either be absorbed quietly into Tinubu’s political orbit, bought off by appointments and favours, or it may finally walk, taking with it a significant chunk of the northern conservative base. The latter is not guaranteed, but it’s more likely now than ever before. Either way, the power calculus inside APC has shifted. Tinubu is now fully in charge, but with full ownership comes full responsibility for any implosion.
Buhari’s death is not just a symbolic moment, it carries significant weight in the calculations of 2027. For much of northern Nigeria, Buhari was more than a politician; he was a cult figure. His identity as a frugal, austere, devout leader spoke directly to the conscience of the northern masses. In 2011, when he lost the presidential election to Goodluck Jonathan, I was in Kaduna. The aftermath was pure chaos—widespread violence erupted across the North. That reaction was not orchestrated; it was organic. People felt that an injustice had been done to “their own.”
That same loyalty followed Buhari into the APC, even when the party’s centre of gravity shifted toward the Southwest. The CPC bloc, many of whom came into APC because of Buhari, not because of Tinubu or any other power player, stayed on because of personal fidelity to their leader. Now that Buhari is no more, the glue binding them to the APC may be effectively dissolved.
Signs of disaffection had been building long before his death. Several key figures aligned with Buhari’s legacy—former CPC elements like Nasir El-Rufai, Sule Lamido, Abubakar Malami, and even Rotimi Amaechi—have already aligned themselves with the ADC. Others have either gone quiet or begun exploring other alliances. The wave is unmistakable: the Buhari camp is on the move.
What’s left in the APC, then, are actors who have either fully assimilated into the Tinubu-led structure or who calculate that their future still lies within the party—perhaps through gubernatorial influence or access to federal patronage. Figures like Governors Umar Bago (Niger), Babagana Zulum (Borno), and Mai Mala Buni (Yobe) may stay, if only out of expediency. But even they will be watching closely: if the ADC continues to build momentum, even that loyalty could shift. Northern Nigeria, post-Buhari, is a floating bloc, and anyone who captures its imagination could reshape the political map.
This is also the first time since 2003 that the North is politically leaderless. There is no obvious successor to Buhari’s symbolic influence. While Atiku may try to claim that mantle and El-Rufai may position himself as a bridge between North and South, no one yet commands Buhari’s kind of emotional loyalty. That vacuum makes 2027 even more unpredictable.
One of the most telling political responses to Buhari’s death came from his protégé-turned-adversary, Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai. In a deeply personal tribute, El-Rufai described Buhari as his “political mentor,” recounting how the late president nudged him into contesting for the governorship of Kaduna State and stood by him throughout his tenure. He acknowledged Buhari’s critical role in building the APC, crediting him with the foresight to initiate the merger that defeated an incumbent in 2015, and praised his rare personal charm, political resilience, and connection with the ordinary people.
But beyond the respectful eulogy lies a more layered subtext. El-Rufai is no longer in the APC. His running battles with the Tinubu-led government are well documented. His recent movement into the ADC—just weeks before Buhari’s passing—was already being interpreted as a symbolic break from the post-Buhari APC. Now, with Buhari gone, El-Rufai’s exit seems more like a declaration that the CPC legacy has no future in Tinubu’s party.
That makes El-Rufai’s tribute more than a farewell—it is a eulogy for an era, and a veiled political statement that the man who once held the North together is gone, and the fight for what comes next has truly begun. His presence in the ADC gives the new coalition not only credibility but also access to a northern network that once stood solidly behind Buhari. If El-Rufai can fill even a fraction of that void, the APC’s northern flank could begin to erode much faster than anyone in Bourdillon anticipates.
The emergence of a new political coalition under the African Democratic Congress (ADC) banner is arguably the most consequential development in Nigeria’s opposition politics since 1999. Spearheaded by former Vice President Atiku Abubakar, former Labour Party candidate Peter Obi, and former governors like Nasir El-Rufai, Rotimi Amaechi, and Rauf Aregbesola, this coalition appears to be the opposition’s most strategic attempt to prevent another fragmented run against the APC in 2027.
The numbers from 2023 speak volumes: Tinubu won with just 37% of the vote, while Atiku and Obi secured a combined 54%. The argument is straightforward, had they been united, Tinubu may never have been president. With the economy reeling from his economic reforms and growing discontent across social classes, this coalition seems poised to exploit the APC’s vulnerability.
Moreover, the array of political heavyweights behind the movement, including David Mark, Tambuwal, Malami, Abdullahi, Lamido, and others, signals not just an elite consensus but a potentially formidable national outreach. The diversity of political traditions, ethnic identities, and regional loyalties within the coalition is designed to mirror Nigeria’s complex political architecture.
But beneath the optics lies a dangerous fragility. This is not a party; it is, for now, a coalition of ambition. Every major figure in that group is a presidential hopeful in disguise, or at least wants to install one. Atiku still believes it’s his turn. Obi has a passionate youth base that sees him as the symbol of a new Nigeria. El-Rufai sees himself as the bridge between the North and South. Amaechi is not done fighting for relevance. And Aregbesola? A loyalist-turned-critic with his power network in the Southwest. There is no ideological glue here, just the shared frustration of men who lost out in their previous political homes.
But here lies the most pressing question: can this coalition last?
History warns us to be cautious. Nigeria’s political elite have often proven more adept at forming alliances than sustaining them. Ideological coherence is minimal, and personal ambition often trumps party discipline. The ADC, until recently a peripheral party, now finds itself at the centre of an ambitious experiment, and the jury is still out on whether it has the structure and institutional depth to carry such weight.
Tensions may arise over who flies the flag in 2027. Will Atiku, despite failed attempts, push for a final run? Will Obi’s supporters tolerate another political compromise? Can figures like El-Rufai and Amaechi subsume their regional ambitions for a common cause? The coalition’s survival hinges on honest conversations, internal consensus, and a willingness to place national interest above ego.
Beyond personalities, there is the deeper question of structure and vision. The ADC platform, although now attracting big names, still lacks a clearly defined ideological position. What does it offer beyond being a home for the politically displaced? Without a unifying vision for governance, reforms, and nation-building, internal contradictions will inevitably surface. Many of the current players have opposed views on critical issues, from fuel subsidy to federalism, and security architecture to fiscal decentralization.
Another looming challenge is zoning and power rotation. The same issue that fractured the PDP and strained the APC may return here with full force. Will the Southeast demand the presidential ticket, given Obi’s rising influence? Will the North insist on retaining it for numerical strength? What happens when the two most viable aspirants—Atiku and Obi—both insist on running? Without a fair, transparent, and binding internal mechanism, the coalition may implode before it even gets to the primaries.
Then there’s the matter of trust. Many of the new allies were once fierce rivals or critics of one another. Atiku and El-Rufai share a famously bitter history. Amaechi and Obi have sparred publicly over national issues. Malami, until recently Tinubu’s silent ally, now shares a table with his fiercest critics. The speed with which this coalition came together is impressive, but also suspicious. Nigerians will be watching to see if it’s just a fragile alliance of convenience rather than a genuine front for reform.
And we must not forget the external pressures. The APC under Tinubu is unlikely to sit back and watch the emergence of a credible opposition force without a fight. Already, there are whispers of “divide-and-discredit” tactics: internal sabotage, counter-alliances, and subtle co-optation of key members. The coalition must brace for infiltration, blackmail, and media warfare, all of which are familiar tools in Nigeria’s brutal political theatre.
In the end, survival will depend on three things: clarity of purpose, unity of direction, and sacrifice of personal ambition for collective gain. If the coalition can manage those, it may just rewrite the script in 2027. If not, it will go the way of many before it, more like a firework that lit up the sky briefly, only to fizzle out when it mattered most.
The stakes heading into 2027 are unusually high for Nigeria. Tinubu’s reforms, particularly fuel subsidy removal and currency liberalization, may be necessary in the long term, but their short-term pain has alienated many.
If the APC can’t hold itself together, and if the new coalition can’t mature beyond a handshake of old rivals, Nigeria risks a 2027 election driven not by hope or policy, but by desperation. And that’s dangerous.
In theory, the ADC coalition has the numbers to win—especially if they repeat the 2023 Atiku-Obi formula in reverse: a Southern candidate with Northern backing. But in practice, their chances depend on how they manage internal rivalries, regional sensitivities, and ego clashes. One wrong move, one poorly handled primary, and it all falls apart.
Caught in the middle of all this is the once-mighty People’s Democratic Party (PDP), now in free fall. The party is facing its most serious existential crisis since it lost the presidency in 2015. Governors and legislators are defecting almost weekly, mostly to the APC in search of relevance, others to the new ADC alliance, hoping to ride its fresh momentum.
The party has no clear direction, no leader capable of holding the centre, and no narrative that resonates with Nigerians suffering under economic hardship. For many of the coalition’s new entrants, ADC is less a new beginning than an escape route from PDP’s crumbling edifice. This raises a critical question: is this coalition simply a dumping ground for displaced political elites who couldn’t secure their ambitions in APC, PDP, or even Labour?
Nowhere is PDP’s identity crisis more glaring than in the figure of Nyesom Wike, former governor of Rivers State and self-proclaimed defender of the PDP constitution. Wike is a walking paradox—a PDP chieftain serving as Minister of the Federal Capital Territory under an APC-led government. While he claims to still be a loyal party man, his actions consistently embolden the ruling party and undercut the PDP’s moral standing. He has used his ministerial pulpit to undermine Atiku, ridicule Peter Obi, and consolidate a loyal faction within the PDP that is more loyal to him than to the party’s national structure.
Wike’s political maneuvering is not merely opportunistic. It is emblematic of a broader rot within the PDP: a party where discipline is non-existent, ideology is hollow, and loyalty is transactional. Despite openly opposing the party’s presidential candidate in 2023 and allegedly working behind the scenes to sabotage Atiku’s campaign, Wike remains untouchable within the party. That reality alone shows how far the PDP has drifted from its founding ideals.
And it doesn’t stop with Wike. The party’s organs are largely comatose. The Board of Trustees has lost credibility. The National Working Committee is divided and riddled with allegations of compromise. The governors’ forum, which was once the party’s backbone, has become fractured and directionless. With daily defections and no clear pathway to unity or reform, the PDP today is not a party preparing to take power; instead, it’s a structure trying to avoid total collapse.
Even within the ADC coalition, former PDP members are viewed with caution. Many are seen as political liabilities who are unable to win their constituencies or even polling units but are eager to secure national tickets. Unless the PDP undergoes a radical restructuring, it is hard to see it surviving the next realignment. If anything, the party is slowly becoming a political orphanage, too weak to contest, too corrupt to reform, and too fragmented to be useful.
This week, Governor Ademola Adeleke of Osun State confirmed growing speculation about his impending defection from the PDP, stating that he is “still consulting.” His announcement came after a high-level meeting with party leaders, cabinet members, and state and federal lawmakers—all of whom reportedly passed a vote of confidence in him and vowed to follow him wherever he goes. Adeleke’s exit would mark yet another symbolic and structural blow to a party hemorrhaging from all sides. His nephew, music artiste Davido, has already hinted at the direction of the governor’s next move, “From Umbrella to Broom”, a clear metaphor for a shift from PDP to APC.
If Adeleke goes through with it, he’ll be the third sitting PDP governor to dump the party in recent months, after Delta State’s Sheriff Oborevwori and Akwa Ibom’s Umo Eno, both of whom have now formally taken over APC structures in their respective states. The PDP is not only losing people; it is losing its territorial grip.
Buhari’s death may be the last push that sets off a chain reaction: an APC unraveling from the inside, a PDP fading into irrelevance, and a new but untested opposition alliance struggling to define itself.
Will the CPC bloc walk away now that its anchor is gone? Will the ADC hold long enough to be more than a coalition of grievances? Will Tinubu’s APC survive this perfect storm?
There are no easy answers. But one thing is clear: with Buhari gone, the political chessboard has been reset. Everyone’s next move matters.
Perez writes from Ibadan. He is a university lecturer, political analyst, and academic writer. He teaches Political Science and International Relations. His research and commentary focus on governance, democratic development and foreign policy dynamics
