26 July, 2026.
Welcome to this week's edition of Sarcastic Sunday with Mohammed Bello Doka where we study Nigeria's political gymnastics sarcastically laced with humor because doing otherwise will choke us. Grab your popcorn because Nigerian politics has once again served us a masterpiece of contradictions that would make even the most seasoned comedian weep with envy. Our beloved leaders have outdone themselves, proving that when it comes to tribalism, common sense is not just optional—it is an outright inconvenience.
Former President Olusegun Obasanjo has suddenly remembered that his former Vice President, Atiku Abubakar, allegedly sponsored an impeachment plot against him during his first term by giving the late Speaker Ghali Umar Na'Abba N5 million. Fascinating. The revelation arrived only two decades late—after Na'Abba's death, when the only other key witness can no longer respond. Atiku dismissed the allegation as unfair, arguing that the dead should not be recruited into political battles. It is a reasonable question: why wait until the grave has sealed the lips of the principal witness? Perhaps because political memories become remarkably sharp whenever another election approaches.
The irony becomes even richer. If Obasanjo genuinely believed Atiku attempted to remove him from office, why did he retain him as his running mate in 2003? Most people do not reward an alleged conspirator with another four years as deputy. But Nigerian politics operates on a different syllabus. Electoral arithmetic often outweighs personal conviction. Obasanjo needed a northern Muslim to balance a southern Christian ticket, so political necessity conveniently defeated political outrage. They won, and only afterward did their relationship collapse as Atiku was gradually stripped of influence.
History, however, records a different turning point. In 2006, Atiku openly opposed Obasanjo's controversial third-term agenda, mobilizing lawmakers against constitutional amendments that would have prolonged Obasanjo's stay in office. The Senate rejected the proposal, preserving Nigeria's constitutional term limits. Atiku has consistently maintained that his only offence was defending the Constitution and asserting his rights through the courts. Yet, in today's revised script, the man who resisted constitutional manipulation has somehow become the villain while the architect of the third-term project lectures Nigerians about democratic virtue. That requires an imagination worthy of Nollywood.
Then enters the Tinubu Presidency, reviving another familiar script—the alleged disappearance of $16 billion spent on the power sector during the Obasanjo-Atiku administration. The question is not whether the expenditure deserves scrutiny. It certainly does. The puzzle is why the criticism is directed almost exclusively at Atiku while Obasanjo, the Commander-in-Chief and constitutionally responsible head of government, appears to have received an unofficial presidential pardon.
Curiously, Bola Ahmed Tinubu once criticized both Obasanjo and Atiku over the same power-sector expenditure. Both names featured prominently in his criticism. Today, however, only one name remains politically fashionable. The other seems to have benefited from selective memory loss. Apparently, accountability now comes with a tribal filter.
Obasanjo's selective indignation is equally remarkable. The former president rarely misses an opportunity to sermonize on governance, yet his outrage appears highly selective. Allegations from two decades ago receive extensive attention, while controversies surrounding the current administration inspire considerably less enthusiasm. Perhaps silence has become the newest anti-corruption strategy.
The moral high ground also becomes rather slippery when viewed alongside Obasanjo's own record. His administration faced persistent questions over the controversial $16 billion power expenditure. He declined to personally appear before a House of Representatives panel examining the matter, while one of his former ministers later dismissed the figure as politically weaponized. More recently, testimony in the ongoing Mambilla Power Project trial has drawn fresh attention to decisions taken during his administration, including allegations that he instructed an increase of N11 billion in the project's budget—claims still being tested in court.
Against that backdrop, hearing Obasanjo wage a moral crusade over an alleged N5 million impeachment inducement feels like watching a heavyweight boxing champion passionately investigate who stole a loaf of bread. In a country where public corruption is routinely measured in billions, the obsession with N5 million seems almost poetic.
Then comes another inconvenient question that neither Obasanjo's admirers nor the Tinubu Presidency appears eager to answer.
If Atiku was always this irredeemably corrupt, why did Bola Tinubu's Action Congress hand him its presidential ticket in 2007?
The historical fact remains uncontested: Atiku became the presidential candidate of Tinubu's party. Both men dispute who offered whom the vice-presidential slot, but that disagreement changes nothing. Tinubu willingly entered into a political alliance with Atiku and presented him as fit to lead Nigeria. Apparently, corruption was either invisible then or developed only after political interests changed.
The contradictions do not end there. Atiku has also maintained that he helped shield Tinubu politically during the 2003 elections by preventing federal efforts to completely dismantle opposition control of Lagos State. Whether one accepts that account or not, it demonstrates that these political actors were once close enough to cooperate when circumstances demanded it. Yesterday's indispensable ally has somehow become today's greatest threat. Nigerian politics truly specializes in miraculous transformations.
This raises an even bigger question. At what exact moment did Atiku cease being the defender of democracy?
When he confronted Obasanjo's third-term ambition, he was widely celebrated for defending constitutional rule. His resistance was hailed as patriotic, courageous and necessary. Today, the very same individual is portrayed as the embodiment of corruption and unfitness for public office. Did he transform overnight, or did the political equation simply change?
The more plausible explanation is that politics changed around him. When Atiku balanced regional interests, opposed constitutional abuse, and carried the presidential flag of Tinubu's own party, he was acceptable. Today, as a leading northern contender for 2027, he has become politically inconvenient. Suddenly, every old allegation deserves fresh oxygen.
That does not automatically make Atiku innocent of every accusation. Public officials should always answer legitimate questions about their records. But accountability loses credibility when it becomes selective. If allegations deserve investigation, then they should apply equally to presidents and vice presidents, allies and rivals, southerners and northerners alike. Justice that recognizes ethnicity before evidence ceases to be justice.
And that is the real tragedy.
When accountability exempts the president while pursuing the deputy; when former allies conveniently rediscover morality only after political divorces; when ethnic arithmetic determines who becomes a saint and who becomes a sinner, tribal loyalty has defeated common sense.
Welcome to Sarcastic Sunday, where facts compete with political convenience, consistency is an endangered species, and selective outrage qualifies as public policy. In Nigeria, yesterday's hero can become today's villain without changing his biography—only the election calendar.
Until next week, keep laughing. It is still cheaper than therapy.
Mohammad Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
Abuja Network News
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