Dramedy of Coalition: No Saint among Thieves

By Gharny Yeku

Nigerians have seen this film before. Only the actors change costumes, the dialogue is slightly refreshed, and the promise is marketed as urgent. As the country inches towards the 2027 general elections, the sudden elevation of the African Democratic Congress from political obscurity into the centre of opposition calculations is being sold as strategy. In truth, it is survival. The ADC did not become relevant because it captured the imagination of the masses. It became relevant because Nigeria’s political elite, stranded by their own failures, needed a vehicle that was available, legal, and pliable. What is unfolding is not a renaissance of opposition politics, but a carefully staged dramedy where ambition wears the mask of sacrifice and desperation masquerades as unity.

For the average Nigerian voter, this coalition announcement did not land as inspiration. It landed as noise. Fuel prices were still high. Food inflation remained unforgiving. Jobs were scarce, patience scarcer. In the markets, on buses, in barber shops and viewing centres, the question was not who formed a coalition, but whether anything would change. Years of elite bargaining have trained voters to interpret political alliances not as moral statements, but as transactions. When politicians gather, Nigerians instinctively ask who is cornered, who is bitter, and who is plotting a comeback.

The ADC’s emergence as the chosen opposition platform fits neatly into this instinctive reading. After the 2023 elections, the opposition space resembled a broken mirror. The PDP was trapped in its familiar cycle of internal sabotage. The Labour Party burned through goodwill with shocking speed, revealing that momentum without structure is a short-lived illusion. Smaller parties existed largely on paper. Meanwhile, the APC governed with the comfort of incumbency and the arrogance that comes with it. Faced with irrelevance, opposition heavyweights did what Nigerian politicians do best when ideology fails them. They regrouped.

The initial idea of forming a fresh party appealed to ego and branding, but reality intervened. Registration delays, legal bottlenecks, and the quiet fear of wasting time forced a compromise. The ADC was already on the shelf. Dusty, yes, but usable. And so, without ceremony or apology, a party that had struggled for oxygen was suddenly handed the political weight of Nigeria’s most recognisable opposition figures. The speed of the takeover was instructive. Grassroots consultation was an afterthought. Internal democracy was a slogan. What mattered was access.

To the Nigerian voter, this was familiar territory. Parties in Nigeria are not vessels of belief. They are rental spaces. Politicians move in, rearrange the furniture, and repaint the signboard. Loyalty is temporary. Memory is inconvenient. What matters is proximity to power. When voters saw Atiku Abubakar resurface under yet another platform, few were shocked. When Peter Obi drifted towards the ADC after the implosion of the Labour Party experiment, reactions ranged from disappointment to resignation. When former APC power brokers like El-Rufai, Amaechi, and Aregbesola appeared under the same roof, the public did not ask whether this was strange. They asked why it took so long.

This is where cynicism sharpens into clarity. These men did not discover each other because of policy convergence. They discovered each other because the system pushed them to the same corner. Each carries personal grievances with the ruling structure. Each feels sidelined, miscalculated, or betrayed. Each understands that alone, their political lifespan is limited. Together, they at least remain audible. Unity, in this sense, is not noble. It is necessary.

Yet necessity does not inspire trust. Nigerian voters are acutely aware that most of the faces in this coalition have governed before. Some governed loudly, others quietly, but none are strangers to power. The roads that collapsed, the institutions that weakened, the corruption scandals that never quite concluded all happened under administrations that included many of today’s coalition champions. This historical memory is not academic. It lives in lived experience. It shapes how promises are received. When such men speak of rescuing Nigeria, voters listen with folded arms.

The ADC itself has not helped matters. The internal resistance that followed the coalition’s announcement confirmed public suspicion that this was not a marriage, but an acquisition. Long-standing party members cried foul, accusing the new entrants of hijack and imposition. Court cases followed. Statements contradicted each other. Silence replaced confidence. To the Nigerian voter, this internal chaos was not alarming. It was expected. Parties that cannot manage themselves rarely convince people they can manage a country.

Still, dismissing the coalition outright would be lazy. Nigerian voters are cynical, not foolish. They understand power arithmetic. They know that fragmented opposition guarantees the ruling party comfort. Many quietly accept that unity, even among compromised actors, may be the only way to force competition. But acceptance is not enthusiasm. Support is now conditional. Voters are watching for signals, not speeches. They want to see who sacrifices ambition, who manipulates process, and who panics first.

What complicates the ADC coalition further is its lack of emotional connection to everyday hardship. The language of the coalition is elite, polished, and abstract. Nigerians are tired of abstract. Hunger is not theoretical. Transport fares are not ideological. School fees do not respond to coalition statements. The electorate has grown impatient with big grammar and small action. Any opposition hoping to break through must speak less about structure and more about survival. So far, the ADC coalition has spoken mostly to itself.

There is also the issue of trust fatigue. Nigerian voters have been mobilised, disappointed, mobilised again, and disappointed again. Each cycle hardens scepticism. Each failure raises the threshold for belief. This is why slogans no longer move crowds the way they once did. This is why young voters who queued enthusiastically in 2023 now speak with caution. Hope is expensive. People no longer give it freely.

This is the real danger for the ADC coalition. Not that it is made up of flawed politicians, but that it may underestimate how deeply Nigerians have adjusted their expectations. The era of blind followership is fading. What remains is transactional support. Voters will listen, but they will not surrender loyalty without proof. They will engage, but they will not worship. Any coalition that mistakes exhaustion for enthusiasm will miscalculate badly.

The phrase no saint among thieves captures this moment perfectly, not as insult but as diagnosis. Nigerian politics is not a contest between angels and demons. It is a marketplace of interests, where survival instincts dominate and moral posturing is often strategic. The ADC coalition is honest only if it admits this reality. Pretending to be morally superior will only deepen public distrust. Nigerians do not demand saints. They demand honesty, consistency, and restraint.

As 2027 approaches, the ADC coalition stands at a fragile crossroads. It can evolve into a disciplined opposition that understands voter psychology, speaks plainly, and restrains internal greed. Or it can collapse into another footnote, remembered as a gathering of powerful men who mistook arithmetic for legitimacy. The difference will not be decided in press conferences, but in how the coalition treats internal dissent, manages ambition, and communicates with a public that is tired of being managed.

For now, Nigerians are watching from a distance. They are not clapping. They are not booing. They are assessing. In a country where survival has become political education, voters have learned to separate noise from signal. This dramedy is still in its opening act. Whether it becomes tragedy, comedy, or something unexpectedly serious depends not on who joined the coalition, but on whether they finally understand the audience they are performing for.

And that audience has seen enough.

Gharny Yeku Wrote from Abeokuta, the Ogun State Capital. He can be reached via: ganny1911@gmail.com

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