Dramedy of Coalition II: No Saint among Thieves (The Kano Scenario)

If anyone still doubts that ideology is ornamental in Nigerian politics, Kano offers a brutal refresher. Not a theory, not a projection, but a live demonstration of how power relocates itself without apology. If Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf and his fellow defectees finally pitch their tent inside the APC, Kano will not merely tilt. It will flip entirely. Overnight, the ruling party would inherit the governor, all three senators, a commanding majority of the House of Representatives seats, an overwhelming grip on the state assembly, and every single local government chairman. The same APC that, barely two years ago, was licking its wounds in Kano would suddenly control almost everything that matters.

Pause there, because the contrast is obscene. In 2023, after voters had spoken and ballots were counted, APC’s Kano footprint was modest to the point of humiliation. One senator out of three. Six House of Representatives members out of twenty-four. Fourteen lawmakers in a forty-member assembly. No local government chairmen. Zero. The party was present, but powerless. Today, without a single vote cast, without a single polling unit opened, that same party stands on the verge of total dominance. Same state. Same electorate. Same party. Entirely different reality.

This is where the dramedy sharpens into something darker. Kano did not suddenly change its mind. Kano was not persuaded by fresh ideas or superior governance. What changed was alignment. Chairs were rearranged, and everyone rushed to sit where power now plays the music. Nigerian voters understand this instinctively. It is why many of them laugh bitterly when politicians preach loyalty. Loyalty in Nigerian politics is seasonal. Power is permanent.

For the average voter in Kano, this moment lands not as surprise, but as confirmation. Confirmation that elections are only half the story, and sometimes not even the decisive half. The real contest often begins after the votes are counted, inside rooms the public never enters, where survival instincts override campaign rhetoric. Parties do not win loyalty. They absorb it. When power moves, men follow.

This reality feeds directly into the wider coalition drama playing out nationally. While the ADC struggles to present itself as a credible alternative built on sacrifice and principle, the APC continues to demonstrate a simpler, more effective strategy. Do not chase saints. Absorb sinners. Do not argue morality. Control structure. In a system where power determines relevance, relevance will always find its way to power.

Kano exposes the uncomfortable truth that many opposition figures refuse to confront honestly. Nigerian politics is not primarily ideological. It is gravitational. Power pulls. Resources attract. Protection seduces. When the centre holds, defections slow. When it weakens, defections become a flood. The APC understands this logic intimately. It does not panic when it loses ground temporarily. It waits. It knows that discomfort elsewhere will eventually send politicians knocking.

To the voter watching all this, the lesson is exhausting but clear. Parties are not homes. They are hotels. You check in, enjoy the benefits, and leave when conditions change. What matters is not the party flag, but who controls the security, the funding, and the future. This is why defections rarely shock the public anymore. They irritate, but they do not confuse. Nigerians no longer ask why politicians defect. They ask why anyone still pretends defection is ideological.

The Kano scenario also deepens voter cynicism towards opposition coalitions. When politicians who speak passionately about rescuing Nigeria are simultaneously watching the gravitational pull of the ruling party bend entire states overnight, credibility becomes fragile. Voters begin to wonder how stable any opposition platform can be when the reward for defection is total capture of structure. It is difficult to sell sacrifice in a system that consistently rewards alignment.

This is the danger zone for the ADC coalition. While it debates unity and fairness, the ruling party demonstrates raw efficiency. While opposition leaders negotiate internally, the APC quietly inherits institutions. Voters see this contrast clearly. They may dislike it, but they respect its effectiveness. Nigerian political psychology is shaped not just by morality, but by inevitability. People gravitate towards what looks stable, even if it is flawed.

Kano also punctures the romantic idea that voters alone determine political destiny. Yes, elections matter. But control is consolidated afterwards. Structures are negotiated. Power is normalised. When a governor moves, the system often moves with him. Legislators calculate. Local government chairmen read the wind. What follows is not chaos, but order of a different kind. An order built on access.

For the ordinary Kano voter who queued under the sun in 2023, this is where disillusionment settles deepest. You voted one way. Power reorganised itself another way. Nobody asked again. Nobody explained. Life continued. Prices rose. Politics adjusted. This gap between participation and outcome is where apathy grows. Not anger. Fatigue.

This is why Nigerian voters increasingly detach emotionally from party politics. They vote, but they do not invest belief. They observe defections like weather patterns. Annoying, predictable, unavoidable. When politicians switch sides en masse, voters do not argue ideology. They mutter survival. They understand the language even if they resent the grammar.

Seen through this lens, the ADC coalition’s moral framing becomes risky. Nigerians are not asking for saints. They are asking for seriousness. They are not offended by imperfection. They are offended by pretense. A coalition that condemns the system while quietly wishing for its advantages will struggle to inspire confidence. Kano reminds everyone that power rewards coherence, not complaint.

Politics really is musical chairs, and Kano proves how fast the music can change. Blink once and the room rearranges itself. Those who hesitated are standing. Those who moved early are seated comfortably. Crazy does not even cover it, because this madness follows rules. Unwritten, yes, but ruthlessly consistent.

As 2027 approaches, the question is no longer whether politicians will defect. They will. The real question is whether voters will continue to emotionally subsidise a system that rearranges itself without them. Kano suggests they are learning. Not to rebel loudly, but to detach quietly. And that quiet detachment may yet become the most unpredictable force in Nigerian politics.

Because when belief dies, structure alone is not always enough.