Nigerian democracy has achieved its first transfer of power. Under current conditions, is a second possible?
By Chudi Okoye
If one were to judge only by the objective conditions, by the battered lives and melancholic mood of the masses, the outcome of Nigeria’s 2027 general elections might seem all but inevitable. The country today finds itself mired in a miasma of man-made crises, its denizens in deep despair, and the citadels of hope erected with the return to civil rule a quarter of a century ago now crumbling. Years of dysfunction under democracy – soaring inflation, rising unemployment and poverty, a collapsed economy, rampant insecurity, you name it – have further frayed the fragile fabric of the nation, eroding faith in the system, especially in those at its summit. There is, without doubt, a far harsher and more volatile atmosphere than what prevailed in 2015 when an intrepid new opposition bloc, the All Progressives Congress (APC), toppled the long-running reign of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP). Back then, PDP strutted across the Nigerian stage, branding itself Africa’s biggest political machine and boasting it would enjoy sixty years of uninterrupted hegemony. Yet the juggernaut proved vincible, in no way immune to an insurgent opposition.
The partisan formations that fused to form the APC, in truth, had modest electoral footprints. In the 2011 presidential election, these precursor parties – mainly the Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN), the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), and the All Nigeria Peoples Party (ANPP), with a faction of the All Progressives Grand Alliance (APGA) – secured a combined vote share of just 39.8%. This was a full 19 percentage points behind the PDP’s commanding performance under Goodluck Jonathan, who claimed 58.9% of the vote. The APC’s component parties also held only a minority of elected offices: nine governorships, with 126 House of Representatives and 32 Senate seats.
Yet by 2015, just two years after their formal merger under the APC banner, this coalition had engineered a 14-point swing to capture the presidency, expanded their gubernatorial reach to 17 states, and won clear majorities in both chambers of the National Assembly – 212 seats in the House and 60 in the Senate.
It was a watershed moment: Nigeria’s first federal-level “turnover” election, in which a dominant ruling party was defeated and peacefully handed over power – less than two decades after the transition from military rule. This was hailed globally as a milestone for Nigerian democracy.
Now, as Nigeria approaches the 2027 elections, it faces what comparative democratization theorists call the “two-turnover test.” First articulated by the late Samuel P. Huntington, this test holds that a democracy cannot be considered consolidated until it has experienced not just one but two peaceful alternations of power through elections: first, when the ruling party that inherited power in a democratic transition is defeated at the ballot and cedes power to the successful opposition; and second, when that successor – now the incumbent – likewise loses an election and peacefully transfers power to another challenger. Nigeria crossed the first threshold in 2015. The deeper test now is whether the APC, having displaced the PDP and governed for over a decade, would accept a democratic reversal of fortune if the electorate so decides – or, put differently, whether it would attempt to rig the election and subvert the democratic will.
The significance of this goes beyond mere procedural succession; it is about normative entrenchment. The first turnover – whereby an opposition party defeats the post-transition incumbent – signals that democratic competition is viable and that incumbents can be displaced through ballots rather than bullets. This is why Goodluck Jonathan is celebrated for his role in 2015, as the incumbent who enabled Nigeria’s first real turnover. However, the deeper challenge lies in the second turnover: whether the victorious opposition, after enjoying a spell in power, will itself accept electoral defeat and relinquish authority peacefully. It is this second alternation – from the opposition-now-incumbent (in this case, APC) to another legitimate challenger – that signifies a deeper democratic consolidation, one that institutionalizes alternation as a norm rather than a fluke.
This is why Nigeria’s 2027 elections constitute more than an ordinary contest: they represent a reckoning in the republic’s rhythm of alternation, a test of whether democratic rotation has matured into a systemic ethos or remains hostage to the fluid calculations of elite power. The test becomes even more cogent when objective conditions, such as those currently facing Nigerians under APC rule, suggest the imperative of political turnover.
The Economy and 2027
By the logic of APC’s historic performance in 2015 – and following a materialist conception of democratic politics – the major opposition bloc today ought to be coasting to victory in 2027. There is, in fact, some theoretical basis for this presumption. Scholars such as Huntington and Adam Przeworski long emphasized the role of economic conditions in catalyzing democratic transitions and sustaining democratic regimes. Yet more recent research on political turnover has shown that, while economic hardship often coincides with electoral losses for incumbents, it is neither consistently strong nor sufficient as a predictor of turnover. Put differently, economic privation may be a necessary condition for democratic alternation, but it isn’t sufficient. This holds across most democratic systems – especially politically and socially fragmented ones. In such contexts, material crisis alone rarely dictates electoral outcomes. Results also hinge on elite alignments, identity cleavages, and the strategic discipline of the opposition. In other words, while economic crisis correlates with political turnover, it is not dispositive.
Political science research on this suggests a notable asymmetry: all things being equal, economic distress tends to provoke voter punishment of incumbents more forcefully than economic improvement guarantees their re-election. Yet this pattern can be tempered when incumbents – like President Bola Tinubu – cultivate reputations as reformers, armed with ambitious policy agendas and high-profile institutional endorsements. Tinubu has leveraged his transformational record as Lagos State governor to bolster support among key domestic constituencies. His neoliberal reforms since becoming president – including subsidy removal and currency devaluation – have also drawn praise from global financial institutions like the IMF and World Bank, despite their punishing impact on the populace. Such technocratic validation may unlock foreign loans, including a currently proposed $20 billion facility, potentially easing fiscal constraints and stabilizing the economy before the next election. Politically strategic interventions like this could complicate opposition efforts to translate economic hardship into political turnover.
Nigeria’s opposition should certainly highlight the depth of economic distress in the country as momentum builds toward 2027. That messaging must be hammered home, to avoid repeating the missed chances of 2019 and 2023, when public frustration with APC could not be converted into electoral victory. But economic appeals alone will not suffice. Success requires a broader, more disciplined, and genuinely multidimensional strategy.
Beyond the Economy
The Democratic Party in the United States often deploys the campaign slogan, “It’s the economy, stupid” – a catchphrase that powered Bill Clinton’s 1992 victory which has since become catechism. It is a crisp and clever messaging the Nigerian opposition might adopt for 2027, except they will face an incumbent seen not only as a reformer but also as a shrewd political tactician.
Bola Tinubu, a founding member of the APC, is widely credited with helping to orchestrate its historic 2015 breakthrough. Unlike Goodluck Jonathan, who struggled to control the PDP even as president, Tinubu wields far stronger control over his party. He also enjoys a crucial advantage Jonathan lacked: insulation under Nigeria’s informal regional power rotation logic. As a southerner, Tinubu occupies the South’s “turn,” providing a significant buffer against northern challengers like Atiku Abubakar. By contrast, Jonathan was viewed by many in the North as a usurper after he assumed office following President Yar’Adua’s death in 2010. That perception galvanized the northern backlash and ultimately contributed to his defeat.
Rotation logic doesn’t of course protect Tinubu against southern rivals like Peter Obi, or even Jonathan himself who might be mulling a comeback. Nor have his personal vulnerabilities – ongoing health concerns and persistent corruption allegations – completely disappeared. Yet today’s landscape is further complicated by a fragmented and feeble opposition. The new coalition forming under the African Democratic Congress (ADC) banner suggests a growing urgency, but it remains nascent and institutionally fragile.
The APC’s own path to power was years in the making. Negotiations for merger reportedly began before the 2011 elections, culminating in a formal union two full years before its triumph. By contrast, the ADC initiative is coalescing barely 18 months ahead of the 2027 polls, and hasn’t yet become a unified force. It must now navigate competing ambitions and ideological tensions to build cohesion. Just as pressing, it isn’t clear what institutional machinery incoming partners will bring to strengthen the ADC structure, despite their personal clout and loyal followings. Atiku has exited the PDP; Obi’s Labour Party is fractured; and the APC renegades have little independent base.
The opposition must also contend with potential institutional bias, with the electoral commission, INEC, and even the judiciary thought to have come under greater political control.
All this adds up to what political scientist Richard Joseph once called Nigeria’s “untidy reality” – his term for the stubborn gap between theory and political practice. For the opposition to mount a credible 2027 challenge, it must move from grievance to strategy, from ad hoc coalition-building to genuine cohesion. As in 2015, any real prospect of turnover will require not just elite solidarity but also a solid, broad-based civic mobilization across the country.
Turnover, Not Run Over
A global study of 2,488 national elections spanning seven decades found that electoral turnovers, by replacing incumbents with motivated challengers, can significantly improve economic outcomes, human development, and democratic governance. Yet democratic consolidation is not achieved in a single moment but through repeated cycles of political alternation. Samuel Huntington’s “two-turnover test” marks a key milestone: when both the post-authoritarian incumbent and its successor peacefully surrender power at the ballot box. Although Huntington’s benchmark is normative rather than temporal, comparative research suggests this milestone usually occurs within two to three decades of sustained democracy. Political scientist Milan Svolik observes an even narrower window, estimating that consolidation occurs after five or six electoral cycles – roughly two decades of regular, peaceful transitions.
By this latter metric, Nigeria appears to be lagging – dragging its feet toward democratic maturity and sagging in global standing. In 2027, the country will enter its eight presidential election and seventh electoral cycle since the 1999 transition, yet it has seen only one peaceful transfer of power. The lag becomes starker when stacked against regional peers. Ghana, beginning its Fourth Republic in 1992, achieved its first turnover in 2000 and the second in 2008. It crossed the critical two-turnover threshold in 16 years and four electoral cycles – the same timeframe in which Nigeria, the so-called ‘Giant of Africa,’ got through its first test. Kenya met the mark in 2022, as did Senegal despite decades of one-party dominance. In Benin and Cape Verde, electoral turnover is now almost routine.
But timelines alone don’t tell the whole story. In deeply divided societies like Nigeria – with fierce identity cleavages, weak institutions, and a statist economy where government mediates resource distribution – democratic alternation is not just symbolic but existential. The second turnover is vital to institutionalizing competitive politics and preventing a winner-takes-all culture. Regular transfers of power ensure inclusion and maintain legitimacy, reinforce the rule of law, and avert a dangerous fusion of party and state. Delays don’t just miss theoretical milestones; they risk hardening authoritarian reflexes, entrenching patronage networks, and discrediting the electoral process altogether.
Some may find comfort in Nigeria’s marginally longer civilian tenure: that 36 of its post-independence years (about 55%) have been under democratic rule. Never mind that 16 of those years were under civilianized ex-military dictators. They may be especially buoyed by the fact that the Fourth Republic has endured into its third decade. Such optimists might argue that Nigeria is not behind but still has some runway toward democratic consolidation, even by global standards. Yet many now worry that Nigeria could be sliding into one-party rule – that its fragile democracy is being run over, not heading for turnover. Political science research lends weight to such fears, suggesting that democracies which fail to achieve second alternations within two to three decades tend to stagnate or regress.
This is what makes the 2027 elections so consequential. For Nigeria’s democratic project to mature – and maintain global credibility – there must be change in the next polls, or at least a real possibility of it. Nigeria can’t be allowed to drift into “competitive authoritarianism,” with democratic institutions dominated by the ruling party. This is untenable in a pluralistic society.
That said, we can’t expect the ruling APC to relinquish power without a fight. Opposition forces must earn the upset. Fortunately, they don’t need to manufacture discontent – it already pervades the polity amid widespread economic distress. But ambient grievance alone will not suffice. The opposition must work harder to overcome their current fragmentation. If there’s to be a turnover in 2027, it will require focus and a greater sense of historical responsibility on their part. It took heavy lifting to achieve Nigeria’s first electoral turnover in 2015. It will take serious organization, coalition-building, message discipline, and renewed civic engagement, along with extreme vigilance by all democratic actors, to make the next elections a turning point for the nation.
