In recent weeks, calls for opposition unity in Nigeria have intensified, largely framed around the need to dislodge the incumbent government. Two broad positions dominate the conversation. On one hand are those who argue that opposition parties must unite at all costs to win power. On the other are those who insist that unity without shared ideas is hollow—that opposition should be grounded in coherent ideological principles rather than mere electoralism.
Beneath this debate lies a more fundamental question: what does it mean to oppose? Is opposition simply about who is not in power, or is it about what is being contested?
In its strongest sense, opposition is not defined by distance from office, but by disagreement with a governing vision, the dominant idea in other words. It is the organized expression of disagreement—rooted in alternative perspective of how society should be structured, how resources should be distributed, and how power should be exercised. Without this ideological foundation, opposition becomes a label without substance.
Nigeria’s political history, though complex and often contradictory, offers glimpses of a more substantive form of opposition. During the First Republic, political parties were shaped by regional and ethnic loyalties, but they also expressed distinct ideological positions, and political visions. In Northern Nigeria, for instance, the rivalry between the Northern People’s Congress (NPC), and the Northern Elements Progressive Union (NEPU) extended beyond electoral competition. Under the leadership of Aminu Kano, NEPU articulated a populist critique of entrenched aristocratic power, positioning itself as a movement of the talakawa—ordinary people—against systems of hierarchy, exclusion, power, and greed.
This ideological current persisted, in altered form, into the Second Republic through parties such as the People’s Redemption Party. Yet it is important not to romanticize this period. Nigerian politics has always combined ideas with patronage, elite bargaining, and regional competition. Still, even within these constraints, there was at least an attempt to anchor political contestation in broader visions of social and economic organization.
Opposition in this earlier period also extended beyond formal party structures. It operated through two interconnected channels: the ballot and the street. Elections provided a mechanism for contesting state power, while trade unions, student movements, and civic organizations mounted pressure from below. These arenas reinforced one another. Political actors drew legitimacy from grassroots mobilization, while social movements found expression through parties and public intellectuals.
This dual structure was central to what scholars such as Claude Ake and Eskor Toyo described as Nigeria’s radical political tradition. Within this framework, the state was not seen as a neutral arena but as one shaped by class interests and material inequalities. Opposition, therefore, was not merely about replacing those in power, but about transforming the underlying structure of power itself. Crucially, this opposition was rooted in identifiable disagreements about how society should be organized—about land, labour, welfare, and the role of the state.
That tradition has not entirely disappeared—but it has been significantly weakened.
Contemporary Nigerian politics presents a different picture. Today, parties such as the All Progressives Congress, Peoples Democratic Party, Labour Party, and African Democratic Congress operate within a political environment where ideological distinctions are often blurred. Some have described these parties as different feathers of the same bird. Party defections are frequent and rarely require substantive justification. Political alignment is driven less by principle but by pecuniary interest. As a result, opposition is frequently defined in negative terms—by who is out of power—rather than by a clearly articulated alternative agenda.
Recent political developments illustrate this ambiguity. Figures such as Atiku Abubakar and Peter Obi have, at various moments, expressed positions that overlap with policies advanced by the current administration under Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Instances of cross party support for major economic decisions—such as fuel subsidy reforms—raise legitimate questions about the depth of policy divergence. Agreement on specific policies is not unusual in any political system, but when such overlaps are frequent and insufficiently explained, they blur the boundaries of opposition.
From a political economy perspective, this pattern reflects a deeper structural reality. Nigerian politics is often characterized less by ideological disagreement than by intra-elite competition—a struggle among political actors operating within a broadly shared framework of power. In such a system, contestation revolves more around access to state resources than around fundamentally different visions of governance. What appears as opposition may therefore be less about systemic change and more about rotation within an established order.
Yet it would be inaccurate to suggest that ideological politics has entirely disappeared. Elements of it persist in social movements, labour activism, and left-leaning political formations such as the African Action Congress (AAC), which attempt to articulate clearer policy positions. The difficulty, however, is that these efforts still lack the institutional strength necessary to significantly reshape the broader political landscape.
Recovering the politics of opposition in Nigeria requires more than electoral alliances or changes in political leadership. It demands a return to substance: the articulation of clear policy alternatives, the development of internal party coherence, and a willingness to sustain positions even when they are politically inconvenient. It also requires reconnecting formal politics with social forces—reviving the link between the ballot and the street that once gave opposition its depth particularly in the first, and second republic.
Opposition, ultimately, is not just about winning power. It is about defining what power should be used for, and how it should be exercised differently. Until that distinction is restored, the language of opposition will continue to obscure more than it clarifies.
And the question will remain unavoidable: opposition to what?
Sanyaolu Juwon
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