Every election season brings with it a familiar spectacle: hurried press conferences, tight handshakes, and grinning political heavyweights announcing yet another ‘historic alliance.’ The mood is often triumphant, the language dramatic, ‘a new dawn,’ they say, or ‘a coalition to rescue Nigeria.’
But those who have followed our politics for any length of time know that these alliances are little more than stopgap arrangements. They are formed not out of ideological conviction, but out of necessity.
We are told alliances represent a maturing democracy; that politicians are learning to collaborate, to compromise. But the truth is far less noble. These arrangements are not symbols of strength; they are confessions of weakness. Over the last one year, former Vice President Atiku Abubakar repeatedly warned the opposition that their only chance against President Bola Tinubu and the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) was to pool resources.
Time and again, these groupings collapse under the weight of their own contradictions. Yet they keep coming back, like a recurring fever. Why? Because our politics remains transactional, not transformational. The goal is not to build something enduring – it is simply to seize power, by any means necessary.
There’s recurring failure, not because alliances are inherently bad, but here in Nigeria, they are never rooted in shared purpose. They are marriages of convenience, and like most such unions, they rarely end well.
To understand the failure of political alliances in Nigeria, one must begin from the First Republic. In the years leading up to independence, regional and ethnic loyalties took precedence over any sense of national cohesion. The three dominant political parties – Northern People’s Congress (NPC), National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC), and Action Group (AG) – each drew their strength from specific regions and ethnic blocs. NPC was rooted in the Hausa-Fulani North, NCNC found its base in the Igbo-dominated East, while AG was primarily strong in the West.
The political alliances of that era were more like tactical ceasefires than genuine partnerships. For example, after the 1959 federal elections, the NPC formed a coalition government with the NCNC. On paper, this seemed like a promising national partnership. In reality, it was a power-sharing deal forged by mutual suspicion and necessity, not by shared vision. The alliance was fraught with mistrust, and the ideological differences between the parties were never reconciled. Within a few years, the centre could no longer hold.
The Action Group, meanwhile, was isolated from the central government and mired in internal crises. Chief Obafemi Awolowo’s imprisonment and the eventual declaration of a state of emergency in the Western Region only deepened the political fault lines. Regionalism continued to fester, and what little remained of national cohesion quickly disintegrated.
By the mid-1960s, Nigeria had descended into chaos. The 1966 military coup – triggered in part by the failure of political leaders to manage alliances and ethnic rivalries – signalled the collapse of the First Republic. The alliances that were supposed to unite Nigeria had instead hastened its disintegration.
When Nigeria returned to civil rule in 1979, the National Party of Nigeria (NPN), which emerged as the ruling party, entered into an alliance with the Nigerian People’s Party (NPP), led by Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe. This was meant to present a national front, but it quickly devolved into another transactional arrangement. The alliance collapsed within two years, marred by accusations of betrayal and marginalisation.
Opposition parties like the Unity Party of Nigeria (UPN), led by Awolowo, offered a more ideologically coherent vision, but lacked national reach and viable allies. Once again, alliances failed to deliver any lasting unity or reform.
The Third Republic, orchestrated by General Ibrahim Babangida, introduced two government-created parties—the Social Democratic Party (SDP) and the National Republican Convention (NRC). This was an artificial alliance structure, an attempt to engineer na tional consensus. But while the parties had ideological labels, in practice, they were filled with the same recycled elites.
The most meaningful alliance of that era – the nationwide support for Chief MKO Abiola – was not elite-driven. It came from ordinary Nigerians across ethnic and religious lines. But when Abiola won the 1993 election, it was annulled. That fragile, people-powered alliance was destroyed by the military, and with it, the last vestige of hope for a genuine national coalition.
When civilian rule returned in 1999, it was the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) that dominated the scene. The party functioned as a coalition of convenience – a “big tent” that brought together retired generals, political godfathers, and regional power brokers. It offered no ideological clarity but plenty of access to federal power. Zoning arrangements were designed to manage tensions, not resolve them.
But like all alliances in Nigeria, PDP’s cohesion was surface-level. Behind the scenes, factions jostled for power, and internal betrayals were common. By 2013, the party’s internal contradictions led to a fatal fracture.
Enter APC – a mega-alliance built from the merger of Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN), Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), All Nigeria Peoples Party (ANPP, a faction of the All Progressives Grand Alliance (APGA), and disgruntled PDP defectors. It was hailed as a political masterstroke. But once again, this alliance was a tent that housed awkward bedfellows who had little in common beyond the termination of PDP rule.
After APC won power in 2015, its internal contradictions exploded. Power blocs fought over appointments and influence. Bukola Saraki and the ‘New PDP’ wing revolted against the party’s leadership arrangements in the National Assembly. Joining forces with the main opposition, the former Kwara State governor was successfully installed as Senate President in a humiliating chapter for the new ruling party.
Today, many of those PDP elements have since returned home or drifted to the latest ‘coalition’ – African Democratic Congress (ADC). This new contraption is not known for its ideological stripes but for their desperate desire to unseat President Bola Tinubu.
These alliances always fall apart for a host of reasons. For one, they are never built to last.
Personal ambition trumps collective vision. Everyone in the alliance wants to be president – or at least kingmaker. Once the power-sharing deals start breaking down, so does the alliance. There’s already talk of ADC being ex-VP Atiku last hope of becoming president. For their part, supporters of Peter Obi insist that their man be handed the ticket.
Ethnic and regional distrust runs deep. Alliances in Nigeria are fragile truces between suspicious partners. Each region watches the other, expecting betrayal. There have been reports that the plot to create ADC began barely six months into Tinubu’s tenure. Shorn of all pretension, this new coalition was largely born of the frustrations of a section of the Northern political elite with the Tinubu administration.
Early in its life it was already facing resistance from a so-called League of Northern Democrats – which has since dissolved into the bowels of ADC. Scratch the surface and you’ll find that the only place where the party is gaining traction is above the Niger.
There is no ideology. Nigerian parties do not disagree on principles – they just disagree on whose turn it is to ‘chop.’ Without a common vision, there is nothing to hold an alliance together.
Alliances are election tools, not governance plans. Once power is secured, the glue melts. Positions are fought over, factions splinter, and voters are forgotten.
Still, alliances remain a staple of Nigerian politics. Why? They are a signal of desperation. When a politician can’t win alone, they form an alliance. It’s not a power move; it’s a survival tactic.
Political alliances in Nigeria are not instruments of national progress – they are tools of political survival. They rarely work, because they were never built to work. They are formed in panic, driven by ambition, and destroyed by greed.
Until our politics is grounded in ideology, integrity, and genuine accountability, alliances will remain what they have always been: a mirage sold to a weary public every four years. Let’s stop being impressed by coalitions formed in hotel ballrooms. Let us stop mistaking handshakes for hope.
