By LANRE OGUNDIPE

In Nigerian politics, power is often measured by how quickly it can be acquired. It is more accurately measured by how long it can be sustained under pressure.

Few political figures of the Fourth Republic have faced as prolonged a period of criticism, contestation and internal resistance as Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Fewer still have emerged from such pressure not diminished, but strengthened. If earlier phases of his career reveal the construction and expansion of power, this phase reveals something more elemental: the ability to endure.

This is the story of vilification and survival.

This series does not seek to celebrate or condemn Tinubu. Its purpose is to examine the structures, strategies and circumstances that produced one of the most durable political figures in Nigeria’s democratic era. In that context, the years following his emergence as a national political force present a crucial test. For it is one thing to build power. It is another to retain relevance when that power is contested from multiple directions.

By the mid-2010s, Tinubu had become one of the most visible and polarising figures in Nigerian politics. His role in opposition coalition building and the eventual emergence of a new ruling party had elevated his profile nationally. With visibility came scrutiny. With influence came resistance.

Criticism of Tinubu did not begin at this stage, but it intensified. Allegations of corruption, long a recurring feature of Nigerian political discourse, were frequently associated with his name. Public commentary often portrayed him as the embodiment of a political system defined by patronage and control. The label of “godfather,” sometimes used descriptively and sometimes pejoratively, became a constant feature of his political identity.

In a political culture that thrives on narrative, repetition has consequence. Over time, critique hardens into perception, and perception into assumed truth. Tinubu became, in the eyes of many, not merely a participant in the political system but a symbol of its contradictions. Such symbolic framing ensured that his actions were rarely interpreted in isolation; they were filtered through an already established lens of suspicion or admiration.

Yet criticism alone does not define this period. The more consequential developments occurred within the political structures he helped to construct.

The emergence of a new ruling party at the federal level in 2015 altered the balance of power in ways that were not entirely predictable. Coalition politics, by its nature, produces multiple centres of influence. Alliances that are necessary for victory do not always translate into unified control of governance.

For Tinubu, this created a complex political environment.

Having played a central role in the formation of the coalition that achieved electoral success, expectations of influence were high. Yet the realities of governance introduced competing interests, new alignments and internal tensions. Power, once shared in opposition, became contested in office.

In this environment, narratives of marginalisation began to surface. Some observers suggested that Tinubu’s influence within the governing structure was less direct than anticipated. Others pointed to emerging divisions within the party as evidence of shifting internal dynamics. Political appointments, party leadership contests and policy directions became signals through which analysts attempted to measure influence.

Perception, in politics, is itself a form of power.

Internal party struggles reinforced this impression. Like many large political coalitions, the ruling party contained diverse factions with differing priorities and ambitions. Disagreements over leadership, strategy and direction became part of the political landscape. In such circumstances, maintaining influence requires more than historical contribution. It requires continuous negotiation, recalibration and, at times, deliberate restraint.

Tinubu remained within this environment, neither withdrawing from the political arena nor seeking constant public confrontation.

What made this phase particularly instructive was the distinction between visibility and influence. In Nigerian politics, the two are often conflated. A reduction in public visibility is frequently interpreted as a decline in power. Yet power, especially of the networked variety, does not always operate in the open. It resides in relationships, in structures and in the quiet maintenance of alliances that do not require constant public affirmation.

Tinubu’s political method appeared to recognise this distinction.

Even as narratives of marginalisation gained traction, the underlying architecture of his influence did not collapse. Political actors associated with his network continued to occupy strategic positions across party structures and subnational governments. Channels of communication remained open. Loyalty, though tested, was not entirely dissipated. What appeared, from the surface, like a contraction of influence was, in many respects, a recalibration.

This is a crucial insight into the nature of political survival.

Survival is not merely the ability to withstand attack; it is the capacity to preserve the minimum structure required for future relevance. Many political careers in Nigeria falter not because criticism is overwhelming, but because their organisational base disintegrates under pressure. Once that base collapses, recovery becomes difficult.

Tinubu’s experience suggests a different pattern.

The system he had built proved capable of absorbing strain without total fragmentation. It bent, but did not break. In that resilience lay the possibility of return. Political time, in such circumstances, becomes an asset. What cannot be immediately asserted can be gradually rebuilt. What appears diminished can, under the right conditions, re-emerge.

Beyond institutional dynamics, another layer of pressure emerged in the form of public narratives around health. Over the years, speculation regarding Tinubu’s physical condition became a recurring theme in political discourse. In some instances, such narratives were amplified within partisan contexts, raising questions about capacity and continuity.

In democratic systems, scrutiny of public figures is inevitable. However, when speculation becomes a persistent political instrument, it introduces an additional dimension to the contest for influence. It shifts focus from policy and structure to personality and physical capacity.

Tinubu’s response to this environment was notable less for confrontation than for restraint. He did not build his political identity on public rebuttals or continuous engagement with criticism. Instead, he maintained a pattern that has characterised much of his career: strategic patience.

Patience in politics is often misunderstood. It is not passivity. It is calculated endurance.

Throughout this period, Tinubu’s political network remained largely intact. Alliances were adjusted where necessary, but the core structure endured. Relationships cultivated over years of political engagement did not dissolve under pressure. The system built in earlier phases of his career demonstrated resilience.

Many political figures experience decline when confronted with sustained criticism, internal opposition or changing power dynamics. Networks fragment, influence weakens and visibility diminishes. Tinubu’s experience followed a different path. While his influence was contested, it did not disappear.

Instead, it adapted.

This adaptation became most visible as Nigeria approached another electoral cycle. By the early 2020s, political alignments were shifting once again. Questions of succession, regional balance and party direction created new uncertainties and opportunities. Within this evolving landscape, Tinubu re-emerged as an active contender rather than a peripheral figure.

His entry into the presidential contest surprised some observers and confirmed the expectations of others. For critics who believed his influence had waned, it represented an unexpected resurgence. For supporters, it was the logical continuation of a long-term political trajectory.

What followed demonstrated the enduring strength of the networks he had cultivated.

Securing a presidential nomination within a competitive political environment requires more than ambition. It requires organisation, negotiation and the ability to mobilise support across diverse constituencies. Tinubu’s success in this process suggested that the structures developed over decades remained functional.

The subsequent electoral outcome reinforced this conclusion.

From the perspective of political analysis, this moment represents the culmination of the survival phase. It illustrates a pattern that has appeared repeatedly in Tinubu’s career: pressure does not necessarily diminish influence; in some instances, it clarifies and consolidates it.

This is not to suggest that the criticisms, conflicts and controversies of this period were insignificant. On the contrary, they formed the context within which his political resilience was tested. But they did not produce the outcome that many expected.

Instead of retreat, there was persistence.

Instead of fragmentation, there was continuity.

Instead of decline, there was transformation.

By the time Tinubu emerged as president, he was no longer simply a political strategist or a regional power broker. He had become a figure whose durability had been tested across multiple phases of Nigeria’s democratic evolution.

That durability now carries a different burden.

If survival defined one phase of his career, the next phase raises a more demanding question.

Can endurance translate into governance?

Can political intelligence become institutional reform?

That transition — from survival to governing doctrine — forms the subject of the next installment.

•Lanre Ogundipe is a Public Affairs Analyst and former President of the Nigeria and African Union of Journalists. He writes from Abuja. Watch out for Part 5 tomorrow.

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