Olu Allen
There’s something deeply tragic, almost Shakespearean, about Atiku Abubakar’s political journey.
Like Macbeth, he saw the throne before it was vacant, and in chasing it too hard, he made enemies of allies and turned opportunities into obstacles.
Like Tantalus in Greek mythology, the fruit of power has always hung just within reach, yet each time he stretches for it, the branch pulls away.
Let’s face it, Atiku will likely never be the President of Nigeria.
Not because he lacks intellect, experience, or resources. The man has run more campaigns than most politicians have contested elections.
He understands Nigeria’s federal character better than many who’ve sat in Aso Rock. His Rolodex could fill a presidential cabinet three times over.
But here’s the brutal truth: timing, trust, and temperament — the three sacred pillars of power — have never once aligned for him.
And in Nigerian politics, you can have two out of three and still lose everything.
The First Fall (1999): When Pride Met Power
His best chance was in 1999.
Obasanjo was the anointed one; Atiku was the chosen courtier. The military had retreated. Democracy was fragile. The North and South had struck a gentleman’s agreement.
All Atiku needed was to play loyal apprentice, consolidate quietly, and wait for his season.
Eight years. That’s all. Just eight years of strategic silence.
But like the ambitious general who desired the crown before the coronation, he quarreled with the king, and lost both the palace and the people’s trust.
The fallout wasn’t just political; it was personal, vicious, and public. By 2007, Obasanjo wasn’t just blocking Atiku’s path, he was burning the bridge entirely.
Ask yourself: how many of us have sabotaged our future by being too impatient with our present?
In Atiku’s impatience, many Nigerians see a reflection of their own unfinished stories.
The Second Stumble (2011–2015): The Elder Statesman Who Wouldn’t Wait
Then came his second chance, the Goodluck Jonathan years.
If Atiku had played the elder statesman, stood as the bridge between North and South, and supported Jonathan gracefully while building goodwill, he would have been the natural successor when GEJ’s time was up.
Nigeria respects loyalty. Nigeria rewards patience. Nigeria crowns those who serve before they seek.
But once again, over-ambition blurred his sight.
He broke what he should have built. He scattered what he should have gathered.
He joined APC not out of ideology but opportunity. When opportunity didn’t immediately crown him, he ran back to PDP like a man shopping for validation in every political market.
The Nigerian electorate saw it. And they remembered.
The Third Tragedy (2022): When a Lion Roared and a Dynasty Fell
By 2022, destiny seemed to call again.
He had the structure. He had the sympathy. He had the PDP ticket.
All the ingredients were there for a historic comeback.
All he needed was to tame his pride and fly with Wike as a wing.
But Atiku tried to play chess with a man already flipping the board.
He thought party hierarchy could cage a lion. Instead, Wike tore the house down, pulled five governors into rebellion, and handed Tinubu the South on a silver platter.
Meanwhile, Bola Tinubu — the fox who plans ten steps ahead- used exactly what Atiku lacked: patience, precision, and political timing.
While Atiku spoke to party elders, Tinubu spoke to the streets, the pulpit, and the palace.
And Nigeria chose the fox over the merchant.
The Unspoken Truth (2027): The Conscience of a Nation
Atiku keeps running, but the race has long shifted.
2027 offers no redemption, not because Atiku has lost his voice, but because Nigeria has changed the conversation.
The South will not vote for him, not out of hatred, but out of balance.
Nigeria’s unwritten zoning pact may not be in the constitution, but it lives in the conscience of the federation.
The North has had its turn. Even heaven respects seasons.
And no matter how loud Atiku campaigns, the South will keep asking: “Is it not our turn?”
In that question lies his final defeat.
The Hall of Near-Misses
History is full of men like Atiku.
Awolowo – brilliant but too sectional to be national.
Ekwueme – noble but too courteous for conquest.
Abiola – loved by all but destroyed by the very system he trusted.
Atiku stands in their shadow, the merchant prince who could buy every ticket but never purchase national trust.
He is Nigeria’s political Icarus: flying close to the sun, but the wax melts every single time.
The Wisdom of Knowing When to Rest
In politics, persistence is admirable, but wisdom is knowing when to rest.
There is dignity in bowing out before history does it for you.
At seventy-eight, perhaps it’s time for Atiku to stop chasing the crown and start anointing others.
Perhaps his legacy lies not in becoming President, but in mentoring those who might.
Because as Solomon said: “To everything there is a season, a time to rise, and a time to refrain from rising.”
And Atiku’s season has passed.
The Final Epitaph
If Shakespeare were Nigerian, he would have written of Atiku Abubakar: “Here lies the man who always came close to the crown, but never wore it.
“Not because he lacked the will, but because he lacked the wisdom to wait, the humility to heal, and the grace to step aside when the stage belonged to another.”
Allen writes from Kano. He writes on public affairs and promotes good governance. He can reach him oluallen1904@gmail.com.
