In the ever-turbulent waters of Nigerian politics, where alliances shift like desert sands and rivalries burn hotter than the harmattan sun, a fresh storm has erupted over the weekend. The presidency, under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, has unleashed a scathing rebuke against former Kaduna State Governor Nasir Ahmed El-Rufai, branding his latest public submissions as the desperate flailings of a man cornered by the inexorable rise of Tinubu's political stature. This isn't just a spat between old allies turned adversaries; it's a window into the high-stakes chess game being played out ahead of the 2027 general elections, where every move is scrutinized, every word weaponized, and every perceived slight amplified into a national spectacle.
The catalyst for this latest clash came on Sunday, September 21, 2025, when Presidential Spokesman Bayo Onanuga dropped a bombshell statement that didn't mince words. In a missive that read more like a clinical diagnosis than a political press release, Onanuga declared that El-Rufai "appears to need some help," attributing the former governor's recent outbursts to outright hallucinations. "Former Kaduna State governor Nasir El-Rufai appears to need some help, especially given his recent unfounded claims and speculations about President Bola Ahmed Tinubu," Onanuga wrote, his tone laced with a mix of pity and disdain. It was a calculated strike, one designed not just to dismantle El-Rufai's narrative but to paint him as unhinged, a relic of past glories now grasping at shadows.
To fully grasp the venom in this response, one must rewind the tape to the events of the preceding week. On Friday, September 19, 2025, President Tinubu descended upon Kaduna, El-Rufai's erstwhile political fiefdom, for what was billed as a routine working visit. What unfolded, however, was anything but routine. The streets of Kaduna buzzed with an electric fervor as throngs of supporters—market women in vibrant wrappers, youth in branded Tinubu caps, elders clutching canes adorned with APC insignia—lined the routes from the airport to the Government House. Chants of "Bola! Bola! Renewal!" echoed off the mud-brick walls, drowning out the distant call to prayer from the ancient mosques that dot the city. It was a grand reception, a veritable love letter from the Northern heartland to the man many had once dismissed as a "Southern interloper."
Eyewitness accounts painted a picture of unbridled enthusiasm. "I have never seen Kaduna like this since the days of [former President] Shehu Shagari," confided one veteran trader at the bustling Central Market, his stall overflowing with kola nuts and ground spices. "Tinubu came, and the people rose. It's not just politics; it's gratitude for the roads, the fertilizers, the security pushes." Indeed, Tinubu's itinerary was packed: commissioning the long-delayed Kaduna Eastern Bypass, a 93-kilometer artery meant to unclog the traffic nightmares plaguing the state's commerce; flagging off distribution of subsidized farm inputs to over 50,000 smallholder farmers; and holding closed-door sessions with traditional rulers, including the Emir of Zazzau, who reportedly hailed the president's "commitment to Northern unity." By the time Tinubu boarded his jet back to Abuja, the social media feeds were ablaze with videos of the crowds, hashtags like #TinubuInKaduna and #NorthForRenewal trending nationwide.
For El-Rufai, who governed Kaduna from 2015 to 2023 with a reputation for technocratic flair and unyielding reform, this must have felt like a gut punch. Once a key architect of Tinubu's 2023 victory—courting Northern votes with his blend of Fulani heritage and Lagos-honed pragmatism—El-Rufai had, in recent months, morphed into a vocal critic. His defection to the Social Democratic Party (SDP) earlier this year, alongside a cadre of disgruntled All Progressives Congress (APC) stalwarts, was the first crack in the facade. But Friday's events in Kaduna exposed the fragility of his new perch. Here was Tinubu, striding through El-Rufai's backyard, receiving adulation that directly contradicted the former governor's oft-repeated mantra: that the North had "abandoned" Tinubu, weary of his "Yoruba-centric" policies and eager for a fresh face in 2027.
El-Rufai's riposte came swiftly, on the heels of the presidential visit. In a series of cryptic social media posts and interviews with select outlets, he unleashed a barrage of what the presidency now deems "unfounded stories." The crown jewel of these was a bombshell allegation: that Tinubu harbored ambitions to morph into a "life president" post-2027, tinkering with constitutional term limits to cling to power indefinitely. "The signals are clear," El-Rufai thundered in one widely circulated clip, his trademark beard twitching with intensity. "After 2027, if re-elected, the plan is to rewrite the rules—no more two terms, no more May 29 handovers. This is not democracy; it's a slide toward authoritarianism." He wove in threads of speculation: whispers of constitutional amendment bills being quietly shopped in the National Assembly, alliances with pliable governors, even nods to historical precedents like Uganda's Yoweri Museveni, who has ruled since 1986.
The claim landed like a grenade in Nigeria's fractious commentariat. Pundits on Arise TV and Channels dissected it for hours, with some nodding along to El-Rufai's warnings of democratic backsliding, while others dismissed it as sour grapes from a man sidelined by his own ambitions. El-Rufai, after all, had his own whispers of presidential aspirations in 2023, only to be edged out by Tinubu's machine. His SDP move was seen by many as a bid to position himself as the anti-establishment Northern voice, rallying the disaffected against the APC's "Lagos oligarchy." Yet, in Kaduna's streets, the theory faltered. "El-Rufai talks of abandonment, but look around," scoffed a young motorcyclist ferrying passengers near the University of Ahmadu Bello. "Tinubu fixed the power lines; El-Rufai promised but didn't deliver. People remember."
Enter Bayo Onanuga, the presidency's verbal sharpshooter, whose Sunday statement was a masterclass in rhetorical evisceration. Onanuga, a journalist-turned-spokesman with a penchant for unfiltered barbs, didn't just refute El-Rufai's claims—he psychologized them. "It is increasingly evident that El-Rufai has recognised the futility of attempts by his associates in his new party to prevent President Tinubu’s likely re-election in 2027," he wrote. "This plot is proving to be unattainable, a mission doomed to fail." The language was surgical: "hallucinating," "desperate act," "political fabrications." Onanuga painted El-Rufai not as a statesman but as a man unraveling, his critiques born of envy rather than principle. "After reports of the grand reception President Tinubu received in Kaduna last Friday, El-Rufai was clearly surprised by the depth of support the President continues to enjoy in the North. This stands in stark contrast to his narrative that the region has abandoned the President."
At the heart of this feud lies a deeper truth about Nigerian politics: the North's pivotal role. With over 50% of the electorate hailing from the 19 Northern states, no presidential aspirant can win without its imprimatur. Tinubu's 2023 victory was a Northern miracle, forged in the fires of anti-Atiku sentiment and El-Rufai's endorsement. Yet, cracks emerged early in his tenure—grievances over fuel subsidy removal's bite on Northern poor, insecurity in the Northwest, and perceived marginalization in appointments. El-Rufai capitalized on these, positioning himself as the region's conscience. His SDP alliance, including figures like former Jigawa Governor Muhammad Badaru Abubakar's kin and sundry ex-APC loyalists, aimed to coalesce a "Northern renewal" bloc. But Tinubu's Kaduna triumph—bolstered by Governor Uba Sani's effusive hosting—signaled that the ground might not be as fertile as El-Rufai imagined.
Delving deeper into the "life president" canard, Onanuga's rebuttal was unequivocal: "In response, he resorted to spreading further unfounded stories, including the claim that President Tinubu intends to become a ‘life president’ after 2027—a speculation that is baseless and absurd. President Tinubu is a democrat who does not intend to stay in office beyond May 28, 2031, when re-elected in 2027." This wasn't mere denial; it was a reaffirmation of Tinubu's democratic credentials, invoking the constitutional two-term limit enshrined in Section 135 of the 1999 Constitution. Tinubu, at 73, has long framed his legacy as one of institution-building, not personal aggrandizement. His reforms—the naira redesign, the Students Loan Act, the push for state police—were sold as bulwarks against the very autocracy El-Rufai now accuses him of plotting.
To substantiate the absurdity, consider the political arithmetic. Amending term limits requires a two-thirds majority in both houses of the National Assembly and ratification by 24 state assemblies—a Herculean feat in Nigeria's polarized legislature. Tinubu's APC holds slim majorities, but opposition from within (think Senate President Godswill Akpabio's own ambitions) and without (PDP's Atiku Abubakar, Labour's Peter Obi) makes it a non-starter. Historical bids, like the failed third-term attempt under Olusegun Obasanjo in 2006, ended in electoral backlash. El-Rufai, a savvy operator who once chaired the House Committee on Privatization, knows this. His invocation of it smacks of desperation, a Hail Mary to stir the pot among Northern intellectuals and youth, who polls show are increasingly pragmatic about Tinubu's deliverables over ethnic rhetoric.
The presidency's call for intervention adds a paternalistic twist. "Governor Uba Sani may wish to reach out to his predecessor, as El-Rufai could benefit from some professional counselling to steer him away from his recent hallucinations and political fabrications on Tinubu and 2027," Onanuga concluded. Uba Sani, a soft-spoken ex-aide to El-Rufai who inherited the governorship in 2023, occupies an awkward spot. Their relationship, once mentor-protégé, has soured amid allegations of fund misappropriation and policy divergences. Sani's warm embrace of Tinubu in Kaduna was a subtle distancing, signaling loyalty to Abuja over personal ties. Yet, the suggestion of "counselling" humanizes the attack, reducing El-Rufai from titan to troubled soul—a narrative that could stick if amplified by pro-Tinubu media.
This episode isn't isolated; it's part of a broader tapestry of pre-2027 jockeying. El-Rufai's SDP flirtations echo the realignments of 2015, when defectors like Atiku birthed the APC. Tinubu, for his part, has been on a Northern charm offensive: the $200 million Sokoto-Badagry superhighway, the revamp of the Ajaokuta Steel Plant, and billions in palliative disbursements post-fuel hike. Polls from NOI and APCON, though partisan, show Tinubu's approval in the North hovering at 55%, up from 42% in 2024, buoyed by economic green shoots—inflation dipping to 22% from 34%, naira stabilizing at ₦1,600 to the dollar.
Critics, however, see darker undercurrents. El-Rufai's allies decry the presidency's response as thuggish, stifling dissent in a democracy already strained by censorship bills and DSS raids on journalists. "This is Tinubu's pattern: label opponents mad or corrupt to delegitimize them," argues a PDP chieftain in Kano, speaking off-record. "El-Rufai speaks truth to power; for that, he's hallucinating?" The former governor himself has remained defiant, tweeting post-statement: "Truth hurts, but it sets free. 2027 will judge us all." His base—urban professionals, reformist clerics—rallies around him, viewing the clash as validation of his outsider status.
Zooming out, this rift underscores Nigeria's enduring fault lines: ethnic, regional, generational. El-Rufai, the MIT-educated engineer turned politician, embodies the North's aspirational elite—globalized yet rooted in Hausa-Fulani traditions. Tinubu, the Lagos godfather, represents the South's commercial muscle, blending Yoruba savvy with pan-Nigerian outreach. Their fallout isn't personal; it's structural, a clash over who defines the post-Buhari era. As 2027 looms, expect more such salvos: SDP primaries, APC reconciliations, perhaps even a Northern governors' caucus to mediate.
In the end, the presidency's critique may achieve its aim—marginalizing El-Rufai as a fringe agitator while burnishing Tinubu's democratic halo. But politics, as El-Rufai knows, is a long game. One man's hallucination is another's prophecy. For now, though, in the sun-baked alleys of Kaduna, the crowds still chant for renewal, and the desert winds carry whispers of what's to come.
Historical Context: From Allies to Adversaries
To truly unpack this drama, one must trace the arc of El-Rufai and Tinubu's relationship, a bromance forged in the crucible of opposition politics that has curdled into open warfare. It began in the early 2000s, when El-Rufai, then a brash Director of Public Service Reforms under Obasanjo, crossed paths with Tinubu, the combative Lagos governor defying federal overreach. Both were reformists at heart—El-Rufai bulldozing illegal structures in Abuja as FCT Minister, Tinubu fortifying Lagos against fiscal strangulation. Their shared disdain for the PDP's "entitlement culture" culminated in the 2013 APC merger, where El-Rufai's Northern star power complemented Tinubu's Southern war chest.
By 2015, El-Rufai's gubernatorial win in Kaduna was a Tinubu triumph, with the Jagaban reportedly funneling millions into the campaign. "Nasir is my son in the North," Tinubu quipped at the victory rally, as confetti rained on the thronged streets. Together, they midwifed Buhari's presidency, El-Rufai serving as the intellectual hammer—his books like The Accidental Public Servant extolling market-driven governance. But fissures appeared post-2019. El-Rufai's flirtations with a 2023 run irked Tinubu, who saw him as a potential poacher. Whispers of El-Rufai's "secret meetings" with Atiku in Dubai fueled paranoia. When Tinubu clinched the ticket, El-Rufai's endorsement was lukewarm, laced with caveats about "competence over godfatherism."
The real rupture came in 2024, amid Tinubu's economic tsunamis. El-Rufai, out of office, launched a podcast series—"Northern Echoes"—lambasting the "hasty" subsidy removal and "tribal" cabinet picks. His SDP switch in June 2025, announced at a glitzy Abuja hotel with defectors in tow, was the Rubicon. "The APC has deviated from its progressive roots," he declared, eyes gleaming under the chandeliers. Tinubu's camp saw red, accusing him of betrayal. Now, the Kaduna visit has supercharged the feud, with Onanuga's words echoing Obasanjo's infamous "befuddled" slur against Buhari.
Broader Implications for 2027
This isn't mere theater; it's a harbinger. El-Rufai's "life president" narrative taps into genuine fears—Nigeria's history of strongmen, from Gowon's 1966 coup to Abacha's 1990s terror. If unsubstantiated, it erodes trust; if amplified, it could galvanize opposition. SDP, polling at 8% nationally, gains oxygen, potentially siphoning Northern votes from APC. Tinubu's re-election hinges on consolidating the Southwest and North-Central, but a fractured North could tip scales to Atiku or Obi.
Economically, the timing is poignant. With GDP growth at 3.5% and unemployment at 33%, Tinubu touts stability. El-Rufai counters with data: Northern poverty at 70%, youth bulge fueling banditry. His hallucinations? Or prescient critique?
Governor Sani's role looms large. At 58, he's navigating El-Rufai's shadow—completing the ex-governor's metro rail, but aligning with Tinubu on security. A "counselling" outreach could mend fences or expose rifts, perhaps via a Zaria retreat with emirs.
Voices from the Ground
In Kaduna's wards, reactions vary. Aisha, a 28-year-old teacher, shrugs: "El-Rufai built schools, but Tinubu funds them. I'm for progress." Bello, a 45-year-old farmer, is bitter: "Life president? Maybe, but El-Rufai's the one dreaming of comeback." Analysts like Professor Hauwa Yusuf of BUK predict escalation: "This is psychological warfare. Expect lawsuits, leaks."
The Road Ahead
As September wanes, eyes turn to October's APC convention. Will El-Rufai's barbs boomerang, or forge a new coalition? Tinubu's democracy pledge holds, but in Nigeria, power's allure is eternal. For now, the presidency's verdict stands: El-Rufai needs help. But who, in this mad dance, truly doesn't?