“The danger is present, not potential. Nigeria’s democracy is not yet lost, but the guardrails are buckling. History will judge whether Tinubu chooses to reinforce them—or dismantle what remains”.
BY EMMAN USMAN SHEHU
Three years into his presidency, Bola Ahmed Tinubu stands accused not of overt dictatorship but of something more insidious: the slow hollowing out of the democratic institutions that brought him to power. Critics—from opposition leaders to civil society groups and international observers—warn that Nigeria’s Fourth Republic is drifting toward what one editorial called “managed rule,” where elections persist but accountability fades. The title of this cautionary chapter? Tinubu’s own making.
When Tinubu was sworn in on May 29, 2023, after a bitterly disputed election marred by technical glitches, voter suppression allegations, and a Supreme Court ruling that upheld his victory despite challenges over his eligibility, many hoped the former Lagos governor would leverage his political savvy to heal a fractured nation. Instead, his administration’s signature moves—bold economic reforms paired with an increasingly intolerant posture toward dissent—have fueled fears of democratic regression. The 2023 polls, already described by watchdogs as Nigeria’s most flawed in decades, set a precedent. Now, as the country hurtles toward 2027, the machinery of state appears repurposed not to serve the people but to neutralize Aso-called threats to the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC), and President Tinubu in particular.
The flashpoints are unmistakable. In 2024, the #EndBadGovernance protests erupted across cities from Lagos to Kano, driven by the pain of subsidy removal, naira devaluation, and inflation that pushed millions deeper into poverty. What followed was not dialogue but dispersion: security forces met demonstrators with live ammunition and mass arrests, drawing sharp rebukes from Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch. President Tinubu urged restraint in a televised address, acknowledging public frustration while defending his reforms as necessary medicine. Yet rights groups documented dozens of protest clampdowns and journalist intimidations through 2025, often justified under the vague banner of “public order.” Civic space, once the pride of Nigeria’s return to democracy in 1999, is shrinking.
Compounding this is the glaring failure of governance in core areas of state responsibility: escalating insecurity and grinding poverty. Banditry, kidnapping for ransom, and jihadist violence continue to ravage the northwest and northeast, with armed gangs raiding villages, mass abductions persisting, terrorist attacks claiming lives across more communities, and the resurgence of Boko Haram/ ISWAP suicide bombings. Reports highlight a complex crisis involving bandit groups numbering in the tens of thousands, driving displacement of over a million in rural areas and thousands of deaths attributed to such violence in recent years. Despite U.S. military advisory support and ongoing operations, insecurity shows no signs of abating, with highways remaining death traps for travelers and mass school abductions echoing earlier horrors.
On the economic front, the administration’s reforms have exacerbated hardship rather than alleviating it. Projections from PwC and other analysts indicate that poverty could reach 62% or even 63% by 2026, affecting up to 141 million Nigerians—driven by weak income growth, persistent high inflation (despite rebasing efforts), and soaring living costs that hit food expenditure hardest for poor households. Unemployment, particularly among youth, hovers above 40% in some estimates, with the ₦70,000 minimum wage failing to keep pace with reality. Opposition parties like the African Democratic Congress have branded these figures the “true economic scorecard” of Tinubu’s tenure, arguing that neoliberal policies have deepened misery without delivering promised stability.
Worse still is the politicisation of institutions meant to check executive power. Opposition leaders, including former Vice President Atiku Abubakar and Peoples Democratic Party chieftain Bode George, have decried the weaponisation of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) and other anti-graft bodies. In a joint statement late last year, they accused the government of using probes not to fight corruption but to coerce defections from opposition-controlled states and silence rivals. “This is a dangerous and undemocratic agenda,” they warned, pointing to a pattern that risks turning Nigeria into a de facto one-party state. Even within the APC, senators have pushed back against talk of one-party dominance, with one telling The Associated Press that it would signal “the death of democracy.”
Critics now argue that Tinubu is replicating the “Lagos Playbook”—the strategy of co-option, patronage, and tactical fragmentation that allowed him to dominate Lagos politics for two decades—on a national scale. Strategic co-option is evident in the appointment of high-profile opposition figures to the cabinet. The most visible example is Nyesom Wike, the former PDP governor of Rivers State, now serving as FCT Minister while technically remaining a PDP member. Wike openly campaigns for the APC’s agenda, creating a “Trojan Horse” effect that has weakened the main opposition from within. As of March 2026, the APC has secured over a two-thirds majority in the National Assembly not just through elections but via a “defection tsunami,” with many politicians viewing the ruling party as the only viable “life jacket,” as Tinubu himself quipped about abandoning “sinking ships.”
Both the PDP and Labour Party remain paralyzed by leadership crises, with persistent allegations that these “internal” disputes are fueled by external influences to keep rivals too divided to mount an effective challenge. A March 9, 2026, Appeal Court judgment deepened the PDP’s fractures by upholding controversial leadership structures and nullifying aspects of a prior convention, further entrenching factionalism that many see as advantageous to the administration.
The most alarming precedent came in 2025 with the declaration of a state of emergency in Rivers State. Tinubu’s move to suspend democratic governance that was slammed by civil society coalitions and Atiku as an “assault on democracy” and an unconstitutional power grab. It evoked memories of the authoritarian reflexes Nigeria thought it had buried. Analysts now speak of “federated autocracy” or “electoral authoritarianism”—terms once reserved for subtler backsliders—where multiparty rituals mask centralised control.
A stark illustration of this pattern emerged in February 2026, when former Kaduna State Governor Nasir El-Rufai—a once-prominent APC figure who has since emerged as one of President Tinubu’s most outspoken critics—was detained following an invitation to the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC). Initially questioned over corruption allegations involving billions of naira, El-Rufai was released on bail only to be rearrested shortly afterward, first by the Department of State Services and then transferred to the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC). As of mid-March 2026, he remains in ICPC custody, with extensions granted by court order amid multiple overlapping probes, including allegations of phone tapping of National Security Adviser Nuhu Ribadu’s communications and other graft-related matters.
El-Rufai’s family has declared the prolonged detention unlawful, asserting that the initial legal basis expired without renewal or fresh charges justifying continued holding, in violation of constitutional protections against arbitrary detention. Supporters and opposition figures, including former Labour Party member Kenneth Okonkwo and former presidential candidate Peter Obi, have condemned it as political persecution targeting defiant voices who have pledged to oppose Tinubu in 2027. Protests erupted in Kaduna demanding his release, with threats of larger demonstrations in Abuja. El-Rufai himself, in statements from custody, has framed the actions as retribution for his criticism rather than genuine law enforcement.
Compounding the unease is the Electoral Act 2026, signed into law by President Tinubu in February 2026 after passage by the National Assembly. The law has drawn fire from the Inter-Party Advisory Council (IPAC) and opposition parties, who argue that provisions—such as narrowing voter registration documents to birth certificates, Nigerian passports, and National Identification Number (NIN), while removing others like national ID cards and driver’s licenses—could disenfranchise millions, particularly in rural and working-class areas, and favor the party with superior administrative control. Critics warn these changes, combined with other reforms on result transmission and party processes, undermine transparency and tilt the field ahead of 2027.
The “sole candidate” allegation surfaced dramatically in mid-March 2026, when the African Democratic Congress (ADC) accused influential APC figures of plotting to destabilize opposition parties—including pressuring INEC to recognise disputed leadership in the ADC—to ensure Tinubu emerges as the unopposed “sole credible candidate” in 2027. The Presidency dismissed the claims as propaganda, but the perception alone is fueling widespread anxiety about democratic decline.
The move toward a one-party system isn’t just about who wins the next election; it’s about the erosion of checks and balances. Without a strong opposition to scrutinise policies—like the 2026 electricity subsidy reforms—the executive operates with near-impunity. Judicial vulnerability grows when one party dominates all arms of government, risking “political capture.” Voter apathy looms if elections feel predetermined, potentially leading to unrest or withdrawal from the process. Paradoxically, a dominant APC risks intra-party volatility, shifting real power struggles to opaque primaries dominated by godfatherism.
Tinubu’s defenders, including his spokesperson, insist democracy faces no threat and that reforms are stabilizing a ship long adrift. The president himself, in statements rejecting one-party ambitions, has emphasised that the APC is simply “making a difference” while opposition parties falter due to their own shortcomings, and has pledged 2026 as a “year of families” to address poverty and insecurity through social development. Yet the data from groups like the Centre for Democracy and Development and Nigeria’s own Situation Room paint a troubling picture: declining public confidence, weakened institutions, and a hybrid regime scoring perilously low on rule-of-law metrics.
Nigeria is no stranger to strongmen. From the military eras that Tinubu himself once seemed to oppose as a pro-democracy activist to the civilian strongholds that followed, the country has repeatedly flirted with authoritarian relapse. What distinguishes this moment is the context: West Africa is reeling from coups and democratic reversals, making Nigeria’s survival as a continental anchor all the more vital. If Tinubu’s tenure continues down this path—prioritising loyalty over liberty, control over contestation—the consequences will ripple far beyond Abuja. A nation of 220 million, rich in resources and youthful energy, cannot afford to trade hard-won freedoms for illusory stability.
The danger is present, not potential. Nigeria’s democracy is not yet lost, but the guardrails are buckling. History will judge whether Tinubu chooses to reinforce them—or dismantle what remains. For now, the evidence suggests the latter. The people, and the country, deserve better.
…Dr Shehu is an Abuja-based writer, activist and educator
