by Mohammed Bello Doka
18 May, 2026
The recent article by Tunde Rahman, Special Assistant to President Bola Tinubu on Media and Special Duties—an article subsequently shared by Bayo Onanuga, the official spokesperson of the President—has, if anything, poked a conspicuous hole in the narrative peddled by APC supporters in the North that we should avoid ethnic and tribal politics. For months, voices from the ruling party have lectured Nigerians on the dangers of divisive rhetoric, urging citizens to embrace national unity and reject the politics of identity. Yet, within the span of a single opinion piece, written by a presidential aide and amplified by the President‘s own spokesman, the mask has slipped. What we now see, laid bare for all discerning Nigerians to behold, is a governing party that views the 2027 election not as a contest of ideas, policies, or competence, but as a tribal war fought along ethnic and regional fault lines.
I state this not as a matter of conjecture but as a conclusion drawn from the very words and logic of Rahman’s article, which, by virtue of its authorship and the endorsement it received from Onanuga’s official X handle (@aonanuga1956), carries the unmistakable weight of an official communication from the presidency. When the Special Adviser on Information and Strategy to the President certifies and disseminates a piece that seeks to reduce a governor’s presidential ambition to a question of ethnic loyalty and warns of “irreparable damage” to a man’s standing within his own racial group, the message is clear: to the APC, 2027 is about ethnic dominance, not democratic choice.
Before I proceed further, let me address a matter of personal significance. In recent days, as a direct consequence of my writings and my insistence on holding power to account, I have been subjected to threats, abuses, and various forms of intimidation. The familiar tactics of a nervous regime have been deployed against an ordinary citizen who has chosen the pen as his weapon. But let me state for the record: I rely exclusively on accurate, factual, and verifiable sources to craft every story I produce. My arguments are not only logical and grounded in verifiable reality but also fall squarely within my constitutional rights as a Nigerian citizen. I have not incited violence, nor have I spread falsehoods. All I have done is to point out what is manifestly obvious to any unbiased observer. If a government that has consistently failed to threaten armed terrorists—men who roam the countryside with AK-47s, kidnapping and killing with impunity—instead chooses to deploy its apparatus to intimidate ordinary, inconsequential bloggers like myself, then that government has lost not only its moral ground but also its sense of proportion and its claim to justice. I make it categorically clear: I will not be silenced. I will continue to write, to question, and to speak truth to power until freedom prevails or I attain the martyrdom that those who threaten me seem so eager to bestow.
Let us now dissect the Rahman article with the precision it deserves, exposing the ethnic slurs, the tribal jingoism, and the barely concealed contempt for constitutional freedoms that lie beneath its polished surface.
The central thesis of Rahman‘s piece is that Governor Seyi Makinde, by daring to declare his intention to contest the 2027 presidential election, is engaging in a “political gamble” that will ultimately lead to his legacy being “rubbished,” his influence and relevance extinguished, and his “place in history and reckoning within the Yoruba race sullied.” Pause and reflect on that formulation. According to a Special Assistant to the President, a Yoruba man who aspires to the highest office in the land should be concerned not about his qualifications, his vision, or his capacity to lead, but about his standing within his own ethnic group. The implicit message is that ambition beyond the boundaries of one‘s tribe is a transgression, a betrayal, an act of hubris that must be punished by the ethnic court of public opinion. This is not political analysis; this is ethnic gatekeeping dressed in the garb of commentary.
Rahman further argues that Makinde “lacks a strong political base outside of Ibadan” and that his only support across the Niger and in the North is his connection with Bauchi State Governor Bala Mohammed. Even if this assessment were accurate—and there is considerable evidence to the contrary, given Makinde‘s growing national profile and the emerging PDP-APM alliance that has drawn support from across the country—the underlying implication is deeply troubling. Since when did a Nigerian citizen require a pre-existing “strong political base” across multiple geopolitical zones before he could exercise his constitutional right to stand for election? The constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria sets forth clear requirements for the office of the President: age, education, citizenship, and membership in a political party. Nowhere does it stipulate that a candidate must first secure the approval of northern power brokers or demonstrate ethnic “balance” before he is deemed worthy. Rahman’s argument, if taken to its logical conclusion, would disqualify every first-term governor or senator who has ever sought higher office without a nationwide network already in place. It is a standard applied selectively, and its selective application betrays its true purpose: to foreclose competition before it can begin.
What is most striking about Rahman‘s intervention is what it inadvertently reveals about the APC’s own anxieties. The article is replete with condescending language—Makinde is accused of being “sanctimonious,” of “waxing reckless, desperate and dangerous,” of engaging in “mere grandstanding and posturing.” The governor‘s threat to invoke the “wild, wild West” spirit of the First Republic is condemned as irresponsible and dangerous. But beneath the rhetorical flourishes, one detects a palpable fear. Why would the presidency feel compelled to dispatch its Special Assistant to pen a lengthy takedown of a governor who, by Rahman‘s own admission, “has done well in terms of providing infrastructure for the state” and has completed 316 micro-projects across 144 communities, with an N892 billion budget that allocates N210 billion to infrastructure and N155 billion to education? If Makinde is as insignificant and politically marginal as Rahman claims, why devote an entire op-ed to dismissing him? The answer is obvious: the presidency is rattled. The entry of a relatively young, competent, and ambitious governor from the South-West into the presidential race threatens to fragment the regional base that President Tinubu considers his own. And the response of the APC has been not to counter Makinde on the merits of policy or governance, but to attack him on the grounds of ethnic loyalty.
Let every right-thinking Nigerian reflect on what has transpired. If the Special Assistant to the President can pen an article dripping with ethnic insinuation and tribal jingoism, and the official spokesperson to the President can share that article on his verified government-affiliated social media handle, what is it if not an official statement? When Bayo Onanuga, whose role as Special Adviser on Information and Strategy makes him the regime‘s chief communicator, amplifies a piece that warns a Yoruba governor about the consequences of challenging the APC’s hold on the South-West, he is not sharing an opinion. He is issuing a directive. He is sending a signal to every politician from the region that deviation from the party line will be met with ethnic opprobrium and political annihilation. This is not democracy; it is a warning shot across the bow of constitutional governance.
Nigerians must resist this descent into ethnic feudalism. The beauty of our constitutional democracy lies in its guarantee that every citizen who meets the prescribed requirements can aspire to any office. Governor Seyi Makinde, whatever one may think of his politics or his record, has every right—indeed, every constitutional right—to declare his intention to contest for the presidency. He has chosen to run under the platform of the PDP-APM alliance, a political decision that is his to make and for the electorate to judge. The fact that the ruling party has responded not with policy debates or governance comparisons but with ethnic invective and tribal threats tells us everything we need to know about its own assessment of its prospects.
The ancient philosophers understood the nature of power and its corrupting influence. Cicero, the great Roman statesman and orator, once warned, A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. The treason Cicero spoke of is not merely military betrayal but the subversion of republican institutions from within. When those entrusted with the instruments of state use their official platforms to threaten citizens on ethnic grounds, they commit a form of internal treason against the idea of Nigeria. They undermine the very foundations of our national compact.
Niccolò Machiavelli, writing in The Prince, observed that a ruler who must rely on fear alone builds his house on sand. Better to be feared than loved, he wrote, but a prince who inspires hatred in his people walks a path to ruin. The APC, by deploying its official spokespersons to wage ethnic warfare against a sitting governor who has simply exercised his constitutional rights, is sowing hatred and division in the service of retaining power. That is a strategy that may succeed in the short term, but it leaves behind a poisoned polity and a fractured nation. Machiavelli also noted that it is necessary for a prince wishing to hold his own to know how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity. The ruling party has chosen to do wrong, and Nigerians must decide whether to accept that necessity or reject it at the ballot box.
Consider also the wisdom of Sun Tzu in The Art of War. He wrote that the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. The APC, by contrast, has chosen to fight its political battles not with superior ideas or better governance but with ethnic demagoguery and the machinery of state intimidation. This is not the strategy of a confident party secure in its mandate. It is the strategy of a regime that senses vulnerability and seeks to close off political space before that vulnerability can be exploited.
Let me close with a categorical, logical, and unambiguous statement. To President Bola Tinubu and his kitchen cabinet, the 2027 election is not about the economy, not about security, not about infrastructure, not about education, not about healthcare, and not about the future of Nigeria‘s youth. To Tinubu and his APC, 2027 is about ethnic dominance and nothing else. The Rahman article, certified and disseminated by Onanuga, proves this beyond any reasonable doubt. When the presidency’s own official communicators warn a Yoruba governor that his legacy will be “sullied” within the “Yoruba race” if he dares to challenge the incumbent, the message is unmistakable. The APC views Nigeria as a collection of ethnic territories to be divided and controlled, not as a single nation of equal citizens. Every Nigerian who believes in the promise of our republic—every citizen who believes that a child born in Maiduguri should have the same opportunities as a child born in Lagos, that a governor from Oyo should be as free to run for president as a former governor from Lagos—must see this for what it is. The battle for 2027 is already being framed by the ruling party as a battle for ethnic supremacy. The question before Nigerians is whether we will accept that framing or reject it and insist on a politics of ideas, competence, and national unity. I know where I stand. I will not be silenced until freedom or martyrdom.
Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
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