The High-Stakes Permutations of Nigeria’s 2027 Elections
As Nigeria edges closer to the 2027 general elections, the political drama is already shaping up like a Nollywood series with too many plot twists. At the center of this unfolding script is the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), which might just spring a surprise at its November national convention by bringing back former President Goodluck Jonathan. If that happens, it won’t just shake the table, it’ll flip it over entirely.
In the far North, Jonathan suddenly looks like the prodigal son everyone wants back. His name is being sung again, his presidency remembered like a golden era. Northern political oligarchs are already calculating how to ride this GEJ nostalgia to push President Bola Ahmed Tinubu out of Aso Rock.
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To spice it up, they’re toying with pairing him with Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso—Kano’s strongman and leader of the fiery Kwankwasiyya movement. That’s not just a ticket; that’s a movement with its own uniform and anthem.
But here’s the naked truth: Tinubu is no political novice. He’s a survivor, a grandmaster of chess in agbada. He clawed his way to the presidency in 2023 through a controversial Muslim-Muslim ticket with Kashim Shettima. That move split the North wide open, especially Northern Christians, who felt ignored like unwanted guests at their own wedding. Now whispers suggest Tinubu may dump Shettima and pick a Northern Christian instead, dangling a juicy promise: “wait till 2031 and the presidency is yours.
”For Northern Christians, that’s like being handed the car keys, only you’re told you can drive later. Tempting? Maybe. Risky? Definitely.
Meanwhile, the PDP’s kitchen is cooking its own stew. Dumebi Kachikwu, the ADC presidential candidate in 2023, recently claimed that Jonathan was considering offering Peter Obi—the Labour Party’s rising star and hero of the Obidients—the juicy post of Coordinating Minister of the Economy if he steps aside.
Sounds like political blackmail with a smile. But don’t laugh too quickly: insiders whisper that Tinubu’s camp is sweating bullets.
Why?
Because a Jonathan comeback, backed by Obi’s restless youth army and Kwankwaso’s red-cap brigade, could produce the kind of coalition that keeps even seasoned politicians awake at night.
That’s exactly the PDP’s Plan A: gather the wounded Obidients still angry about 2023, mix in the diehard Kwankwasiyya faithful, and crown Jonathan as the compromise king. For context, many Obidients never really moved on from Jonathan’s 2015 loss—they still see him as the wronged man who deserves a second chance. If politics were football, they’re the fans waiting for a VAR review nine years later.
Now, picture the battlefield: Tinubu secures the South-West like a fortress, Jonathan locks down the South-South and South-East. The real fight? Northern Nigeria. INEC says we have about 93.4 million registered voters. The North West alone is a whole country – 22.6 million voters. The South West brings 17.9 million, while the North Central is sitting on 15.3 million. The South South has 14.4 million, the North East 12.5 million, and the South East brings 10.9 million to the table.
Now, if politics were pure arithmetic, the North would just sit in their corner, press calculator, and declare victory. But Nigeria doesn’t work like that. These numbers simply shout one truth: no single region can pocket Aso Rock alone. To win, you need handshakes across the Niger, alliances across tribes, and votes across faiths.
The million-naira question: will Northern Christians back a Christian president for four years now, or gamble on a VP slot that might finally deliver Nigeria’s first democratically elected Northern Christian president in 2031? It’s like being asked: do you want to eat today, or wait and hope the cook doesn’t change the menu tomorrow?
Northern oligarchs have their own headache. They fear Tinubu might entrench himself so firmly in power that their traditional grip on Nigeria’s politics weakens for good. To them, the safest plan is to clip his wings now and make him a one-term president. Desperation is thick in the air—and where desperation thrives, strange alliances are born.
But here’s the funny-sad part: after the 2023 election, when religion was shamelessly used like seasoning in a bad pot of soup, no serious effort has been made to heal the distrust it left between Northern Christians and Muslims. On the surface, politicians shake hands and smile, but scratch lightly and you’ll see the suspicion bubbling underneath. For many, the last election wasn’t about competence—it was about church versus mosque.
And that’s the real danger. If voters don’t demand more than recycled deals and faith-based chess moves, 2027 will just be another merry-go-round of elites playing their games while ordinary Nigerians keep struggling with poverty, insecurity, and a shrinking economy.
We deserve better. We should ask every candidate one simple question: How will you fix the economy, unite Nigerians, and create jobs? And if their answer sounds like another fairy tale, we must move on.
Because let’s face it: the permutations may be exciting to analyze, like Premier League transfer rumors, but at the end of the day, it’s not about who sits in Aso Rock—it’s about whether Nigerians finally get the leadership we’ve been praying, shouting, and voting for since 1999.
