“The declaration by GSM for President is…more than a statement of personal ambition. It is being interpreted by his admirers as a call to national reawakening—a summon to a country that has, for too long, appeared trapped between immense potential and recurrent disappointment.”
The declaration of political ambition is often an ordinary event in an extraordinary republic. Politicians declare; supporters applaud; opponents sneer; commentators speculate.
But occasionally, a declaration acquires a meaning beyond the ritual of politics. It becomes a symbol, a provocation, and, perhaps, an invitation to imagine a different political future.
Assessing The GSM Declaration For President
Such, to many of his supporters, is the significance of Governor Seyi Makinde’s (GSM) declaration of his intention to contest for the Office of the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria at the historic Mapo Hall, Ibadan, during the PDP/APM Unity Mega Rally of 2026.
The electrifying atmosphere that greeted the declaration was, therefore, not merely the enthusiasm of political supporters.
It was, in many respects, an expression of hope. It reflected the yearning of citizens who believe that Nigeria, a nation richly endowed but persistently challenged by the paradox of poor governance, requires a different kind of political energy.
The declaration by GSM is, therefore, more than a statement of personal ambition. It is being interpreted by his admirers as a call to national reawakening—a summons to a country that has, for too long, appeared trapped between immense potential and recurrent disappointment.
Nigeria is not lacking in intelligence. It is not deficient in human resources. Neither is it poor in material endowment.
Its greatest crisis has often been the crisis of political management: the inability to translate potential into progress, resources into prosperity, and promises into institutions.
This is where the question of leadership becomes fundamental.
A sick nation cannot be healed by a lethargic political temperament.
A country navigating the stormy waters of economic uncertainty, insecurity, institutional fragility, and social anxiety requires a leader with intellectual alertness and political reflexes.
In turbulent weather, a captain who hesitates excessively may mistake indecision for wisdom.
Nigeria needs a leadership culture capable of identifying problems before they become national emergencies.
Governance, at its highest level, should not be an endless reaction to crises. It should be the art and science of anticipation.
A serious leader must possess, not only the ability to extinguish fires, but also the foresight to recognise the conditions that may cause them. He must understand that firmness is not necessarily authoritarianism and that decisiveness is not synonymous with recklessness.
Without clarity of purpose and firmness of character, governance can become hostage to manipulation. Public policy may then oscillate between competing interests, while the state gradually loses the confidence of the citizens it is meant to serve.
People naturally gravitate towards leaders who combine what philosophers might describe as the gifts of nature with the disciplines of nurture—energy, resilience, intellectual acuity, emotional intelligence, courage, a sense of direction, leadership by example and the capacity for communication.
A leader must communicate instantly, not distantly. He must not govern from an isolated tower, separated from the anxieties, fears, and aspirations of ordinary citizens.
The modern political leader must also understand that governance is no longer merely about occupying office. It is about managing complexity.
It requires the ability to coordinate ideas, people, institutions, and competing interests without losing sight of the larger national purpose.
It is these qualities that many believe distinguish Governor Oluseyi Makinde. Indeed, among the governors Oyo State has produced, GSM has carved out a distinctive reputation for dynamism, courage, administrative energy, and an uncommon determination to leave visible footprints in governance.
That is why the call for him to aspire beyond the boundaries of Oyo State has continued to grow.
For his admirers, the argument is simple: if dexterity can transform a state, why should such dexterity not be deployed in helping to repair a nation?
I therefore congratulate GSM, whom I have always likened to the famous slogan of “33” Export Lager Beer—“The Clear Leader”—for the courage to place his ambition before the court of public opinion.
To seek the presidency of Nigeria is not a casual political adventure. It is an invitation to subject oneself to the most rigorous form of democratic scrutiny.
Every achievement will be examined. Every failure will be amplified. Every utterance will be dissected. Every friendship, alliance, and political association will be interrogated.
But that is the beauty of democracy.
A serious contender must not merely seek power; he must persuade the people that he possesses a superior idea of how power should be exercised.
As I reflected on the political significance of GSM’s presidential ambition, a song I heard some elderly market women singing yesterday returned to my mind:
“Bí ò bá sí Olúṣẹ́yí Ọmọ Makinde, ojú Ifá kan la bá máa bọ̀.”
The song was simple. Its political philosophy, however, was profound.
At the heart of democracy lies the principle of choice.
Political pluralism is not an inconvenience to democracy; it is democracy’s oxygen.
A political system without genuine competition, alternative voices, and freedom of association risks degenerating into one-party dominance and, eventually, the authoritarian instinct.
Democracy becomes meaningful, not because everyone agrees, but because people are free to disagree.
A healthy political system must accommodate alternatives. It must allow competing visions of society to confront one another peacefully before the ultimate sovereign—the electorate.
This is why any attempt, real or perceived, to monopolise the political space should concern every democrat.
If everyone belongs to one political party, where is the competition?
And if competition disappears, what mechanism remains to compel the governing party to listen to the people?
A ruling party without a credible opposition can gradually cease to be a mirror of the people’s aspirations and become an echo chamber for the political establishment.
This brings us to the political developments in Oyo State.
Where there appears to be an attempt to concentrate political influence and deny Governor Makinde and his allies within the APM a legitimate political space, one is compelled to ask some fundamental questions:
Why should the prospect of competition generate so much anxiety?
Why expend enormous energy attempting to prevent another political platform from emerging as a credible alternative?
Why should those who believe in their political strength be afraid of allowing the people to make a choice?
Can everyone sleep and face one direction?
Certainly not.
Political plurality is not treachery. Competition is not rebellion. An alternative political platform is not a declaration of war.
In a democracy, citizens must be free to organise around different ideas, different interests, and different political identities and not agonise for not being offered an alternative to choose from.
Let everyone bear his father’s name, even when that name sounds unpleasant to others.
It reminds me of Juliet’s famous question in William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet: “Wherefore art thou Romeo?”
The question, in essence, was a challenge to the tyranny of labels.
A name, a party, or an identity should not become a prison from which political reasoning cannot escape.
Some people have therefore asked GSM why he must contest for the presidency under the APM against a formidable political figure from the same South-West?
I find the question intellectually curious but politically unnecessary.
Politics is, after all, the great leveller.
The ballot box does not vote because a candidate is feared. It does not necessarily bow to the loudest propaganda. It is not permanently controlled by governmental machinery.
At the end of the democratic process, the ordinary voter remains the ultimate judge.
Records will speak.
Ideas will speak.
Character will speak.
When the final decision is made, the ballot will speak louder than intimidation.
This is why I continue to ask myself: Why are some people dying before the battle even begins?
Democracy is not supposed to be a monotonous journey along a single political road. The beauty of democracy lies precisely in the existence of alternative routes.
Citizens must be allowed to compare.
They must be allowed to question.
They must be allowed to reject.
And they must be allowed to choose.
The freedom of association gives citizens the opportunity to organise themselves politically and collectively pursue their understanding of the public good.
It is therefore unsurprising that, despite the anticipated deployment of financial resources, political propaganda, blackmail and the perceived weight of federal influence, many ordinary citizens have continued to assure Oluseyi, the son of Olatubosun, of their support.
The political battlefield may sometimes appear uneven.
Money may speak loudly.
Power may appear intimidating.
Political machinery may be formidable.
But history repeatedly reminds us that the electorate can sometimes humble the most confident political establishment.
One of the elderly women whose song inspired these reflections asked me rhetorically: “Ṣé ojú Ifá kan lẹ fẹ́ ká máa bọ̀?”
In other words: Do they want all of us to pay obeisance to only one Ifá corpus?
I went home and reflected deeply on that question.
The philosophy embedded in it is not merely religious or cultural. It is profoundly democratic.
The Ifá corpus itself is structured around alternatives, possibilities, and multiple paths of interpretation.
If a civilisation can recognise the wisdom inherent in multiple paths to understanding, why should modern politics become uncomfortable with alternatives?
Why should citizens be compelled to look in only one direction when they possess the intellectual and constitutional right to explore other possibilities?
The elderly woman eventually concluded: “Ẹ jẹ́ ká fi Ifá Èkó sílẹ̀, ká gbé Makinde, Ifá Ọ̀yọ́, larugẹ.”
Her words sounded simple, perhaps even playful. Yet beneath them lay a profound democratic message: let political alternatives live.
That is the essence of democracy.
Governor Seyi Makinde’s journey towards Aso Villa has commenced with remarkable political energy. Everywhere he goes, he appears to attract considerable attention, while political observers increasingly acknowledge that he may emerge as a credible alternative in the unfolding political equation of 2027.
The road ahead will certainly not be easy.
Presidential contests are rarely won by popularity alone.
They demand organisation, strategy, ideology, national alliances, financial discipline, communication, credibility, and the capacity to build trust across geographical, ethnic and religious boundaries.
But every great political journey begins with a decision to step forward.
The 2027 presidential election promises to be an intriguing contest. It may ultimately become a contest between ordinary voters and the enormous weight of governmental power, political machinery, and the subtle politics of intimidation.
But democracy has one enduring principle:
The ballot belongs to the people.
Political power may build structures.
Money may build machinery.
Governments may command institutions.
But none of these can permanently replace the sovereign will of the electorate.
And when the people speak, every political giant must listen.
GSM has stepped onto a difficult, but potentially historic path.
Whether that path eventually leads to Aso Villa will be determined by the complexity of politics, the strength of his ideas, the credibility of his alliances and, above all, the sovereign judgment of the Nigerian people.
But one thing is already certain:
The journey has begun.
And, for those who believe in his capacity, courage, and political dexterity, it is a journey whose path they hope will be strewn with gold.
Best of luck to GSM in his political odyssey.
The road to Aso Villa may be long, the contest may be fierce, and the obstacles may be formidable—but, in the final analysis, the people will have the last word.
