By Hassan Husaini In the theatre of power, some scripts never age. Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince, written five centuries ago, remains the definitive manual for understanding political ambition, betrayal, and survival. Its principles find fertile ground in Nigeria’s contemporary political drama, where the fallout between President Bola Tinubu and former Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai offers a masterclass in Machiavellian statecraft—not merely in the falling out, but in the calculated choreography of the nomination process itself. To understand this saga is to understand that power, in its purest form, is not about virtue or loyalty but about the cold, unyielding mechanics of survival. Machiavelli’s treatise was never intended as a moral guide but as a practical one. He argued that to acquire and hold power, a prince must operate beyond conventional ethics when state stability—or his own survival—is at stake. Success, not virtue, is the ultimate measure. Yet he warned of a central paradox: while a prince can transgress moral norms for security, he can also become a victim of his own exceptionality, ruled out of the very safeguards he violated. This duality is the prism through which to view the Tinubu-El-Rufai saga, a drama that unfolds in three distinct but interconnected acts: the alliance of necessity, the nomination as a strategic diversion, and the final neutralization, with the ever-present possibility of resurgence. Machiavelli observed that princes rise through fortune or through ability, but most rely on the assistance of others. In 2023, El-Rufai was not merely a supporter but an architect of Tinubu’s victory. He mobilized northern governors, campaigned relentlessly across the region, and secured electoral votes in a zone where the President was historically weak. According to former minister Solomon Dalung, “El-Rufai brought Tinubu… remove El-Rufai, Tinubu would not have won in 2023.” This was never friendship. It was a calculated transaction—El-Rufai needed Tinubu to ascend and protect his post-gubernatorial relevance, while Tinubu needed northern legitimacy to validate his southern-centric ambition. In Machiavelli’s terms, they were bound by necessity, not affection. The prince, Machiavelli warns, must never fully trust those who serve him out of their own ambition, for men are quick to change their nature when it serves their interests. The alliance was always destined to fracture because it was built on mutual utility, not mutual trust. Here lies the most subtle application of Machiavellian doctrine: the nomination process itself. When Tinubu submitted his ministerial list to the Senate in July 2023, El-Rufai’s name was conspicuously included. The nomination appeared as a reward for loyalty—a public gesture of gratitude that satisfied El-Rufai’s expectation and quieted northern political allies. But Machiavelli would recognize this as a masterful feint. By nominating El-Rufai, Tinubu achieved three objectives simultaneously. First, he shifted public attention away from his own role in any eventual rejection, allowing the Senate to serve as the heavy hand. Second, he placed El-Rufai in a vulnerable position—undergoing public scrutiny, security clearance, and Senate grilling—while the President remained above the fray. Third, and most crucially, he bought time. The nomination process stretched over weeks, during which Tinubu consolidated his cabinet with loyalists, reducing El-Rufai’s bargaining power and ensuring that when the rejection came, the President’s inner circle was already secure. The inconsistency of the Senate’s screening process further exposed the selective application of security concerns. Several governors who had campaigned alongside El-Rufai—including some from his own geopolitical zone and political persuasion—were nominated, screened, and cleared without incident, despite possessing what might reasonably be considered comparable or even more significant security profiles. These individuals, many of whom had presided over states with profound security challenges, including banditry, insurgency, and communal violence, faced no substantive obstacles to their confirmation. Their nominations sailed through the same Senate that suddenly found El-Rufai’s clearance problematic. The explanation lies not in any unique threat posed by El-Rufai but in political convenience. The ministers who were cleared represented, in many cases, a rather poor demographic and regional representation of the north, yet they were confirmed because their presence served the political equation of the moment. They were pliable, unambitious, or sufficiently indebted to the presidency to pose no future threat. El-Rufai, by contrast, was none of these things. His independent stature, his network of northern allies, and his demonstrated capacity to mobilize made him a liability in a cabinet that Tinubu intended to control absolutely. The Senate’s selective scrutiny was not a triumph of due process
Don't miss out on breaking stories and in-depth articles.
