With Osmund Agbo
In Hans Christian Andersen’s immortal parable, The Emperor’s New Clothes, an entire kingdom became hostage to a lie. Courtiers, ministers, noblemen, and ordinary citizens all participated in a grand performance of collective dishonesty, pretending to admire magnificent garments that did not exist. Fear silenced truth. Vanity overwhelmed reason. No one dared confront the emperor with the obvious reality before him because honesty had become politically inconvenient.
Surrounded by flatterers and insulated from reality, the emperor marched proudly through the streets naked, while the crowd applauded an illusion they knew was false. It took the innocence and courage of a child to finally utter the truth everyone else lacked the integrity to say: the emperor had no clothes.
Nigeria’s political establishment now appears determined to reenact that parable with former President Goodluck Jonathan and the increasingly absurd speculation surrounding a possible 2027 presidential bid.
Once again, a familiar army of political courtiers has assembled around a former leader, constructing an alternate reality designed less to serve him than to gratify their own ambitions. They whisper into his ears that Nigerians are longing for his return; that he remains the nation’s hidden redeemer; that victory lies within reach if only he agrees to step forward.
And, as in Andersen’s story, too many people within the political class appear either too fearful, too opportunistic, or too compromised to say what should be self-evident: this is a profoundly bad idea.
The recent ruling by a Federal High Court in Abuja dismissing a suit challenging Jonathan’s eligibility to contest the 2027 presidential election has once again revived speculation about a political comeback. Yet the issue was never really about constitutional eligibility. A man may possess the legal right to run for office and still lack the political logic, moral necessity, or strategic wisdom to do so.
The real tragedy is not the court ruling itself, but the spectacle of a former president who once exited office with uncommon dignity allowing himself to drift toward a political mirage manufactured by sycophants.
History repeatedly demonstrates that sycophants are often the most dangerous enemies powerful men ever encounter. They do not serve truth; they serve access. Their loyalty is transactional, their praise insincere, and their counsel corrupted by self-interest. They survive by converting deception into flattery and packaging fantasy as strategy. Their craft lies in persuading leaders to mistake applause for legitimacy and wishful thinking for political reality.
In the end, however, it is almost always the principal who suffers the humiliation, while the flatterers quietly move on to their next benefactor.
That danger now confronts Jonathan.
Till date, he has made no formal declaration. Reports merely suggest that some supporters and elements within the PDP are encouraging him to contest. Under normal circumstances, such overtures should require little contemplation. A statesman secure in both his legacy and historical place would simply decline with grace and finality. Instead, Jonathan continues to fuel speculation by speaking vaguely about “consulting widely” before arriving at a decision. That ambiguity has become the oxygen for political opportunists.
Every noncommittal statement emboldens the illusion merchants around him to continue marketing the fantasy that Nigerians are anxiously awaiting his return to Aso Rock.
But one must ask a simple question: Where exactly is this supposed political momentum located? Should Jonathan eventually enter the race, he would be stepping into a political terrain radically different from the one he once knew. The PDP, the party most closely associated with him, has been hollowed out by internal sabotage, weakened by serial defections, and diminished by years of strategic incoherence. Several governors have either defected to the ruling APC or aligned themselves elsewhere, while the remnants of the opposition remain deeply fragmented and mutually suspicious.
The broader opposition ecosystem itself resembles a fractured coalition of competing ambitions, rather than a coherent political force. Peter Obi has consolidated significant influence within his own movement and political base. Atiku Abubakar continues to command loyalty within another opposition bloc. Multiple factions, overlapping interests, bruised egos, and unresolved rivalries have transformed the opposition space into a chaotic marketplace of competing aspirations. Into this already overcrowded arena, some individuals now propose introducing Jonathan as yet another presidential candidate.
The question practically asks itself: Where are his votes supposed to come from?
The North is unlikely to abandon Atiku for Jonathan. The South-West will not desert President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for him. The South-East, once emotionally invested in Jonathan, increasingly views him with disappointment for failing to align himself with the political aspirations represented by Obi’s movement at a defining historical moment.
Jonathan appears suspended midair, without a regional base, without a strong ideological movement, and without the energised grassroots machinery required to sustain a modern presidential campaign. Yet the merchants of illusion continue to persuade him that millions are simply waiting for him to utter the word “yes.”
The irony is painful. Jonathan could not defeat an electorally vulnerable Muhammadu Buhari in 2015, despite enjoying all the formidable advantages of incumbency. Today, some people expect him to overcome Tinubu, arguably one of the most calculating, resilient, and battle-hardened political tacticians Nigeria has produced since 1999, who also controls the immense machinery of incumbency and state power. That proposition is not merely optimistic; it is detached from political reality.
Even under the hypothetical conditions of a perfectly free and fair election, Jonathan’s prospects remain exceedingly weak. In a four-way contest involving Tinubu, Atiku, Obi, and Jonathan, it is difficult to construct any credible electoral pathway that places him competitively near the front of the race. The arithmetic is unfavourable. The alliances are absent. The political momentum simply does not exist.
Much of the enthusiasm surrounding Jonathan today is driven less by political reality than by nostalgia. Over time, he has cultivated the image of a calm and decent statesman, a reputation strengthened considerably by his peaceful concession of defeat in 2015; one of the most commendable acts in Nigeria’s democratic history. Many Nigerians, I inclusive, continue to regard him as personally decent and temperate. But personal decency is not synonymous with effective leadership.
Good men do not automatically become good presidents. Historical reputations are not sustained by sentimentality alone; they survive through judgment, restraint, and an awareness of when history has moved on. Jonathan presided over an administration widely perceived as weak, indecisive, and incapable of imposing discipline upon entrenched corruption within its own ranks. Under his watch, Boko Haram evolved from a dangerous insurgency into a devastating national security catastrophe. Public confidence steadily deteriorated as insecurity deepened and allegations of monumental corruption dominated national discourse.
President Jonathan’s inability to effectively control powerful actors within his administration fostered the enduring image of a presidency perpetually overwhelmed by forces operating inside its own government. These are not revisionist attacks manufactured by political opponents. They are historical realities many Nigerians still remember vividly.
Former Jigawa State governor and a PDP stalwart, Alhaji Sule Lamido perhaps captured the situation most accurately when he described renewed calls for Jonathan to run as a “desperation call” born out of frustration with Nigeria’s current political condition. His warning was both blunt and wise: Jonathan must resist the temptation of ego-massaging appeals capable of destroying the respect he still commands. And ultimately, that is what is truly at stake here, not victory, because victory appears improbable, but legacy.
Jonathan’s greatest political asset today is no longer power. It is goodwill. It is the widespread perception that, despite the failings of his administration, he left office honourably and conducted himself with unusual civility in a political culture often defined by bitterness, vindictiveness, and desperation. That image has earned him international respect and secured for him a dignified place in Nigeria’s democratic history. But politics is notoriously unforgiving towards those unable to recognise when their historical moment has passed.
If Jonathan allows himself to become a pawn in this fractured opposition chessboard, he risks squandering the very credibility and goodwill he painstakingly rebuilt after leaving office. A humiliating electoral defeat would not elevate his stature; it would diminish it irreparably. Worse still, his candidacy would further splinter an already divided opposition, dispersing political energy, fragmenting votes, and weakening whatever limited possibility exists of mounting a coherent challenge against the ruling establishment.
In the final analysis, the greatest beneficiary of a Jonathan candidacy would neither be Jonathan himself, nor the PDP, nor the opposition. The principal beneficiary would almost certainly be President Tinubu.
‘Jonathan 2027’ is not a serious political project. It is an illusion sustained by flattery, nostalgia, and collective self-deception; a cruel joke gone too far.