Tinubu vs. Aregbesola: Who Betrayed Whom in a Saga of Politics, Power, and Intrigue?

By Mohammed Bello Doka 

In the treacherous jungle of Nigerian politics, where alliances are forged in fire and destroyed in whispers, few stories are as captivating — or as instructive — as the spectacular unraveling of the bond between President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and Rauf Aregbesola. For over two decades, their relationship was the gold standard of political loyalty. Aregbesola was not just a disciple; he was the executor of Tinubu’s vision, the loyal lieutenant who never questioned his leader’s decisions — until the very structure of that loyalty began to crack from within.

At first glance, the Tinubu-Aregbesola split might appear as another political rivalry, one more betrayal in a landscape soaked with broken promises. But this isn’t just a feud between two men. It is the crumbling of a carefully cultivated myth — the idea that Nigeria’s godfather of politics rewards loyalty, and that political mentorship under him is a highway to legacy, not servitude. What has emerged is a painful but necessary truth: that in Tinubu’s empire, loyalty is a one-way street, and blood is thicker than everything — including principle, sacrifice, and service.

Their story began on solid ground. Tinubu discovered Aregbesola and elevated him from relative anonymity to the position of Lagos State Commissioner for Works and Infrastructure in 1999. In that role, Aregbesola became more than just a cabinet member — he was the cornerstone of Tinubu’s governance successes. He planned, he built, he mobilized. He campaigned fiercely for Tinubu’s second term, outshining most and proving himself indispensable. Tinubu’s recognition of his value was clear in 2010, when he handpicked Aregbesola to contest for the governorship of Osun State. That victory, hard-won through legal battles and mass mobilisation, cemented Aregbesola’s image as Tinubu’s most dependable soldier. He governed Osun with energy and populist zeal, pushing through massive infrastructure programs while singing Tinubu’s praises at every turn. It was not uncommon for Aregbesola to refer to his mentor as “our leader” — with reverence and visible admiration. Theirs appeared to be a political brotherhood that could weather any storm.

But power, as always, has its own gravitational pull. In 2018, as Aregbesola’s tenure as governor came to an end, he naturally expected to have a say in who would succeed him. After all, he had built the Osun political structure with his own hands. His preferred candidate was one of his long-serving allies — a man forged in the crucible of their shared battles. But Tinubu had a different plan. He imposed Gboyega Oyetola, his cousin from Iragbiji, as the APC candidate, brushing aside Aregbesola’s choices like yesterday’s news. The move didn’t just blindside Aregbesola — it humiliated him. It reminded him, perhaps for the first time, that in Tinubu’s political chessboard, everyone was a pawn except the king himself.

That betrayal — because that’s what it was — cut deep. Here was a man who had sacrificed personal ambition for the greater cause, now pushed aside when it mattered most. Tinubu’s defenders would later argue that Oyetola was “a safe pair of hands” — experienced, loyal, and capable. But the optics were damning. A cousin installed over a battle-tested ally? In the eyes of many in Osun, it reeked of nepotism and cold-blooded politics. Aregbesola was left to lick his wounds, as his influence in the state began to erode under Oyetola’s leadership.

Worse still, the same Tinubu camp that once praised Aregbesola began weaponising Osun’s financial challenges to discredit him. Suddenly, the unpaid salaries and mounting debt — issues Aregbesola had pleaded for help with — were thrown back at him as evidence of failure. Federal support that could have softened Osun’s financial blows never came. Tinubu, once the dependable backer, now became a silent observer. The message was unmistakable: you are no longer in the circle.

But Aregbesola was not the type to retreat quietly. In 2021, he launched The Osun Progressives (TOP), a movement within the APC to rally his abandoned loyalists and reclaim political relevance. The initiative was a direct challenge to Oyetola’s authority — and by extension, to Tinubu himself. Tinubu’s political machinery responded with swift condemnation, branding the move as divisive and rebellious. The unspoken truth, however, was that Aregbesola’s initiative touched a raw nerve — he was no longer playing by the rules of a system that had thrown him under the bus.

The 2022 Osun governorship election became the climax of the feud. Aregbesola, refusing to endorse Oyetola’s re-election bid, allegedly gave tacit support to the opposition’s Ademola Adeleke. Whether by design or coincidence, Adeleke won, dealing a crushing blow to Tinubu’s Southwest dominance. The aftermath was predictably vicious. Tinubu’s camp accused Aregbesola of treachery. His actions, they claimed, were an unforgivable betrayal of the man who made him. But lost in the outrage was the reality of how Tinubu had systematically dismantled Aregbesola’s influence — first by ignoring his succession plans, then by isolating his loyalists, and finally by standing silent during his political struggles.

By 2024, the inevitable happened: Aregbesola was expelled from the APC. It was a brutal, calculated political decapitation — stripping him not only of his platform but of the legacy he had built within the party. For most politicians, that would have marked the end. But Aregbesola is not most politicians. In July 2025, he returned to the national stage, joining the African Democratic Congress (ADC) as interim national secretary. The move sent shockwaves through Nigeria’s political elite. This was not just defection; it was defiance — a declaration that he would not go quietly into political oblivion. His alignment with Atiku Abubakar, Peter Obi, and other opposition figures made one thing clear: the man Tinubu tried to bury is now part of the coalition determined to rewrite the political order he once helped build.

So, who truly betrayed whom? Tinubu’s apologists paint Aregbesola as a disloyal protégé who bit the hand that fed him. They say his rebellion, his refusal to support Oyetola, and his defection to the ADC are acts of ingratitude. But such a view conveniently ignores the provocation. Tinubu, wielding immense influence, could have chosen diplomacy. He could have allowed Aregbesola to install a trusted successor in 2018. He could have intervened during Osun’s fiscal crisis. He could have offered political protection instead of orchestrating a purge. Instead, he chose dominance over dialogue, control over cooperation.

What Aregbesola did in response — the formation of TOP, the passive resistance in 2022, and his eventual defection — were not acts of betrayal. They were reactions. Painful, calculated, perhaps even vindictive, but not without cause. For every accusation hurled at him, he can point to a mentor who discarded him once he became inconvenient.

This saga is no longer about two men. It is about the decay of a system where power is concentrated in the hands of one, and loyalty is expected to last longer than respect. It is about what happens when protégés dare to become independent, and godfathers forget that empires built on control are inherently fragile. As 2026 and 2027 draw closer, and Nigeria begins to warm up for another round of elections, the Tinubu-Aregbesola feud will likely shape coalitions, strategies, and destinies. One is now the President of Nigeria. The other, a rebel with a national platform. Their paths will cross again — but this time, not as mentor and disciple, but as political enemies navigating a battleground they once dominated together.

And as the public watches and history begins to judge, one truth is becoming harder to ignore: in this tale of loyalty and betrayal, it was Tinubu — the kingmaker turned king — who first turned the knife.