By N’Mazi Obiomah O. Igbokwe
W. B. Yeats, the Nigerian Crisis and Tinubu’s 2027 Re-election Bid
There are moments in the life of a nation when literature becomes more than an expression of artistic imagination; it becomes a mirror held before society, reflecting its contradictions, anxieties and impending dangers. Such is the enduring relevance of The Second Coming, the celebrated poem by Irish poet William Butler Yeats, written in 1919 in the aftermath of the First World War.
Nearly a century after its publication, Yeats’s haunting vision of a civilisation approaching the edge of disorder offers a compelling framework for examining Nigeria’s present political condition and the electoral choices confronting its citizens in 2027, when President Bola Ahmed Tinubu seeks another four-year mandate.
Yeats was not writing about Nigeria. Yet his words connote an extraordinary capacity to illuminate societies where public confidence is weakening, leadership is questioned, institutions are under pressure, and the promise of a better future appears increasingly uncertain.
His warning remains unforgettable:
“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.”
These words, immortalised in African literary consciousness by Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, describe more than political instability. They suggest the breakdown of the moral, institutional and social bonds that hold a nation together.
The question confronting Nigeria today is whether its centre is holding—or whether the strains upon the national fabric have become too severe to ignore.
When the Falcon Loses Its Master
Yeats opens his poem with the image of a falcon flying in widening circles until it can no longer hear the falconer. The instrument of control has become detached from the authority that once guided it.
Politically interpreted, the image captures the tragedy of leadership that has lost touch with the people it governs.
Democracy is supposed to establish accountability between the government and the electorate. Leaders receive authority to govern from the people, while citizens expect security, justice, economic opportunity and the responsible management of public resources in return.
When that relationship weakens, democracy risks becoming an exercise in political succession rather than an instrument of social transformation.
Nigeria’s predicament must be examined within this context. The country possesses enormous human and material resources, a vibrant entrepreneurial population and a remarkable capacity for cultural reinvention. Yet insecurity, poverty, unemployment, inadequate public services and declining household purchasing power continue to test the patience of millions.
For many Nigerians, the question is no longer whether the country possesses sufficient potential. It is why that potential has proved so difficult to translate into an improved quality of life.
The falcon may continue to fly, but if it can no longer hear the falconer, its flight becomes increasingly unpredictable. Also, a government that fails to listen carefully to its citizens risks mistaking political activity for public approval.
Tinubu’s Reforms and the Burden of Leadership
President Tinubu assumed office in May 2023 and embarked on consequential economic reforms, most notably the removal of the petrol subsidy and the liberalisation of the foreign-exchange market.
The administration has defended these decisions as necessary steps to correct structural distortions, improve public finances and create conditions for sustainable economic growth. Supporters argue that postponing difficult reforms would have prolonged the weaknesses of the Nigerian economy.
These arguments deserve serious consideration. No responsible assessment of Nigeria’s economic predicament can ignore the costs of long-standing policy failures or pretend that reform is unnecessary.
However, the justification for a policy cannot be separated indefinitely from its consequences for the people expected to endure it.
Economic growth figures, improved government revenues and investor confidence may be important indicators of progress, but they do not tell the whole story. The ordinary citizen also measures economic performance by the price of food, the cost of transportation, the affordability of healthcare, the availability of employment and the ability to educate children without sacrificing necessities.
Reuters reported in October 2026 that Nigeria’s annual headline inflation had eased to 14.63 per cent in September, while food inflation stood at 19.59 per cent. Although the moderation in headline inflation represents progress on that particular measure, it does not mean that prices have returned to their former levels or that household purchasing power has recovered.
The distinction is crucial. A slower rate of price increases does not necessarily mean cheaper food or a more comfortable life.
The government must therefore confront a fundamental political question: can it demonstrate, before the electorate passes judgment, that its economic reforms are delivering tangible and broadly shared benefits?
For a president seeking re-election, the answer will matter far more than the eloquence of campaign speeches.
The Best Lack Conviction
Perhaps the most politically revealing lines in Yeats’s poem are these:
“The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.”
Here lies one of the great tragedies of public life. People who possess integrity, sound judgment and a genuine commitment to the common good may lack the courage or organisation required to defend their convictions. Meanwhile, those driven by personal ambition, intolerance or destructive political interests may pursue their objectives with relentless determination.
Nigeria has witnessed the consequences of this imbalance throughout its political history. Public indignation can be intense during periods of hardship, yet indignation alone does not produce political change. Complaints on social media do not substitute for civic participation. Private conversations about corruption do not replace public accountability. Nor does the popularity of a political alternative automatically establish its competence.
As the 2027 election approaches, opposition parties must answer a question of their own: can they transform public dissatisfaction into a credible, coherent and convincing alternative?
A governing party cannot be judged solely by the weaknesses of its opponents. Equally, an opposition cannot claim a mandate simply because many citizens are unhappy with the incumbent.
The electorate deserves more than a contest of personalities, ethnic loyalties, religious sentiments and political insults. It deserves competing programmes, credible candidates and measurable commitments on security, education, healthcare, employment, industrial development and the cost of living.
The danger Yeats identifies is not merely that bad leaders may emerge. It is that the failure of responsible people to organise, participate and act courageously can create the conditions for destructive leadership to flourish.
The Rough Beast and the Promise of a New Beginning
The title of Yeats’s poem invokes the Christian expectation of a second coming, traditionally associated with redemption and the restoration of divine order. Yet the poet’s vision takes a disturbing turn. Instead of a reassuring saviour, he imagines a mysterious, pitiless creature approaching Bethlehem.
The poem ends with a question about this terrifying figure, described as a “rough beast” moving towards its birth.
The symbolism is unsettling because it challenges the assumption that the collapse of an old order must necessarily produce something better.
This is a warning Nigeria should take seriously as the 2027 election approaches.
A change of government does not automatically guarantee national renewal. Neither does continuity necessarily guarantee stability or progress. A new administration can reproduce the failures of its predecessor, just as an incumbent can correct mistakes and improve governance if willing to listen, adapt and act.
The real issue, therefore, is not simply whether Tinubu should return to office. It is whether his administration can justify a second mandate through demonstrable achievements and a credible programme for addressing the country’s outstanding challenges.
If the President seeks re-election on the strength of his reforms, he must explain how their benefits will reach households, how insecurity will be confronted, how productive industries will expand and how public institutions will become more accountable.
If the opposition seeks to replace him, it must show how its proposed policies would improve these same conditions, how they would be financed and how it would avoid repeating the mistakes that have damaged public confidence in Nigerian politics.
The electorate must judge both sides by evidence rather than promises.
The Centre Must Hold
Nigeria’s difficulties are serious, but the country should not be declared irredeemable. Yeats’s poem is a vision of impending catastrophe, not a constitutional verdict that societies must inevitably collapse.
Nations can recover when leadership becomes responsive, institutions become credible and citizens insist on accountability. Economic hardship can be addressed through sound policy, productive investment and the creation of opportunities. Insecurity can be confronted through effective intelligence, professional security services, justice and cooperation between governments and communities.
But recovery requires more than declarations of national greatness. It requires results that citizens can experience in their daily lives.
The 2027 election must therefore become a referendum not merely on the personality of President Tinubu, but on the quality of governance, the credibility of alternatives and the future direction of the Nigerian state.
If the President wins another mandate, that victory should be treated as a renewed obligation to deliver. If the electorate chooses another leader, the result should usher in a peaceful democratic transition and a government prepared to learn from the failures of the past.
Above all, Nigeria must resist the temptation to reduce its national future to the triumph of one political camp over another. The survival and progress of the country are greater than the ambitions of any individual or party.
Yeats leaves us with an unsettling question about the nature of the new age emerging from the ruins of the old. Nigeria must answer that question through the choices it makes, the institutions it strengthens and the standards it demands of those who seek its highest office.
When the centre cannot hold, the responsibility for rebuilding it belongs to both leaders and citizens.
The falcon must hear the falconer again. And those who govern must remember that the ultimate test of political power is not how fiercely it is pursued, but how responsibly it is exercised.
As Nigeria approaches 2027, the question is no longer simply whether Tinubu will return to Aso Rock. It is whether the Nigerian state can renew the confidence of its people before frustration hardens into permanent disillusionment.
For a nation standing at such a crossroads, the most urgent second coming Nigeria needs is not the arrival of a political messiah. It is the rebirth of responsible leadership, credible institutions and a national conscience capable of placing the common good above partisan ambition.
Only then can Nigeria prove that, even when the centre is under pressure, it need not fall.