By Olatunbosun Taofeek
In today’s Nigerian, surviving the Tinubu machine is not a badge of honour; it is a matter of luck and how many of us can be lucky?
The real question is this: after the Tinubu era, what will remain of Nigerian politics? When the machine finally fades, what we are likely to inherit is not a democracy of parties again, but a wasteland of political associations—loose, with a gathering of opportunistic politicians without ideology, conviction, or performance.
There is no disputing it: Bola Ahmed Tinubu is one of the most calculating and intelligent politicians Nigeria has ever produced. Yet therein lies the danger. His brilliance has not built enduring institutions; it has consumed them. After Tinubu, the structures of Nigerian politics may not only be hollowed out beyond recognition but despicably dangerous to the people.
Return to the beginning. When Tinubu became governor of Lagos State, he did not preserve the structures that carried him to power—he dismantled them. He altered party identities, erased old alliances, and pushed potential rivals into political oblivion.
Afenifere vanished.
NADECO collapsed.
What replaced them was not ideology, but obedience.
He recruited the area boys as political foot soldiers and constructed a system of power for a ruthlessly select elite. Entry into this inner circle promised wealth, protection, and relevance—but only on one condition: absolute loyalty to the machine. Question it, and you are discarded.
Thus emerged a civilian army—the agbero network—an uneducated but disciplined force embedded in Lagos’ streets. This was not an accidental army. The Adedibu political model was transplanted from Ibadan, refined, and weaponised for Lagos: politics by intimidation, reward, and controlled systems.
Then came the most potent instrument of all in the Tinubu machine: money. The Tinubu machine understands a brutal truth—whoever controls cash controls Nigerian society. Kings were humbled. Intellectuals were reduced to messengers. Professors became courtiers. Activists were absorbed, neutralised, or bought outrightly. Even today, many Nigerian activists—online and offline—are little more than subcontractors of the machine.
The lesson was made clear: there are no political parties—only political interests. When interest expires, the party dies. Ideology is irrelevant. Loyalty is rented. Everything has a price.
Voters, too, have been trained. They understand one thing only: who pays.
Within the logic of the Tinubu machine, the following rules apply:
Money is truth; everything else is decoration.
A wealthy people is a political threat—poverty is the only instrument to sustain control over them.
Integrity is electorally useless; deception is rewarded.
Nigeria is considered irredeemable, so governance becomes extraction.
Weak politicians seek to be loved but love is for weak politicians; fear and dependence win elections.
Yes, the Tinubu machine is a school: efficient, disciplined, and merciless. But it is a school that does not teach democracy; it teaches survival. And until Tinubu himself exits the stage, we will not know whether Nigeria has been learning politics—or merely rehearsing submission.
– Taofeek is a writer, lecturer and a libral
