The Prince and the Politician: Machiavelli’s Enduring Grip on Nigerian Power Politics

In the realm of power, certain narratives remain timeless. Niccolò Machiavelli's The Prince, penned centuries ago, continues to serve as a blueprint for grasping political ambition, treachery, and endurance. Its teachings manifest in Nigeria's modern political landscape, particularly in the rift between President Bola Tinubu and former Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai, which serves as a textbook example of Machiavellian maneuvering—both in the antagonism and the deliberate planning behind the nomination process.

To comprehend this conflict is to grasp that power, in its essence, is not rooted in virtue or loyalty, but in the unrelenting mechanics of survival. Machiavelli's work was never meant as a moral handbook but as a guide to practical realities: a prince must often act unethically to secure and maintain power when national stability—or their personal safety—is at risk.

Success, rather than virtue, is the quintessential metric. However, he cautioned about a dualistic dilemma: a prince may transgress moral codes for safety, yet he can also fall prey to his own exceptionalism, barred from the very protections he had violated. This duality offers a lens to examine the Tinubu-El-Rufai narrative, which unfolds through three linked acts: the alliance of necessity, the nomination as a strategic deception, and the ultimate neutralization, with the constant threat of resurgence.

Machiavelli noted that princes often ascend through luck or capability, but most depend on others' support. In 2023, El-Rufai was not just a follower but a mastermind behind Tinubu's triumph. He rallied northern governors, campaigned extensively across the region, and procured electoral votes in a segment where the President had traditionally lagged.

Former minister Solomon Dalung stated, “El-Rufai empowered Tinubu… should El-Rufai be removed, Tinubu would not have won in 2023.” This was not camaraderie. It was a calculated deal—El-Rufai required Tinubu to ascend and safeguard his post-gubernatorial relevance, while Tinubu required northern backing to legitimize his southern-focused ambition.

According to Machiavelli, they were tethered by necessity, not affection. The prince, Machiavelli cautions, must never fully confide in those who serve them out of ambition, for individuals are prone to altering their character when it benefits their interests. The alliance was inherently poised to collapse because it was founded on mutual utility, not mutual trust.

This embodies the most nuanced application of Machiavellian theory: the nomination process. When Tinubu presented his cabinet slate to the Senate in July 2023, El-Rufai's inclusion was conspicuous. The nomination seemed a reward for loyalty—a symbolic acknowledgment that pleased El-Rufai and pacified northern political patrons. Yet, Machiavelli would discern this as a masterful ruse.

By nominating El-Rufai, Tinubu accomplished three goals at once. Firstly, he diverted public focus from any potential rejection, allowing the Senate to act as the enforcement arm. Secondly, he placed El-Rufai in a precarious situation—subject to public examination, security vetting, and Senate questioning—while the President remained insulated.

Most importantly, he bought time. The nomination process lingered for weeks, during which Tinubu bolstered his cabinet with loyalists, diminishing El-Rufai's leverage and ensuring that when the dismissal occurred, the President's inner circle was already protected. The Senate's screening process for other nominees revealed its selective application of security criteria.

Several governors who campaigned alongside El-Rufai—some from his own political faction and geographical region—were nominated, vetted, and approved without issue, despite potentially comparable or even greater security concerns. These officials, many of whom governed states grappling with significant threats like banditry, insurgency, and inter-group conflict, bypassed substantial hurdles in their confirmation.

Their nominations swiftly cleared the same Senate that now questioned El-Rufai’s clearance. The reason lay not in El-Rufai’s alleged threat but in political expediency. The confirmed ministers predominantly represented a weak demographic and geographic slice of the north, yet they were approved because they aligned with the presidency's political calculus.

They were malleable, lacking ambition, or sufficiently indebted to the presidency to pose a future challenge. El-Rufai, conversely, defied these characteristics. His independent profile, extensive network of northern allies, and demonstrated ability to rally supporters made him a liability in a cabinet Tinubu aimed to dominate completely.

The Senate's partial examination was not a triumph of procedural integrity but a staged performance—civic theater devised to achieve a preordained result while preserving an aura of impartiality. When the Senate ultimately denied El-Rufai's confirmation, citing security worries purportedly from a Department of State Services report, the President could assert plausible deniability.

“I nominated him,” Tinubu’s stance implied, “but the institutions guided the process.” This exemplifies Machiavelli’s principle of indirect action—achieving objectives while concealing the hand that moves the pieces, prompting the public to blame the apparatus rather than the controller. The confirmed ministers, irrespective of their qualifications or regional parity, fulfilled a distinct role.

They served as political conveniences, placeholders who would not contest presidential dominance, whose presence in the cabinet would not disrupt power dynamics, and whose confirmation could not shift the balance of power or create alternative power centers. Their confirmation was never in jeopardy because their confirmation posed no threat.