There is an intoxicating feeling that comes with political dominance. When a leader commands loyal followers, enjoys the support of influential institutions and controls a formidable political structure, it can become tempting to believe that the future has already been secured.
But Nigerian political history has repeatedly shown that power is rarely permanent.
Few episodes demonstrate this more vividly than the 2003 governorship election in Ogun State, when then-incumbent Governor Olusegun Osoba of the Alliance for Democracy was defeated by Otunba Gbenga Daniel of the Peoples Democratic Party.
Osoba was no ordinary politician. A respected journalist and prominent progressive figure, he had built a formidable political reputation in Ogun and across the South-West. He had also been elected governor on the AD platform in 1999.
At the time, the AD controlled most of the South-West and carried the political legacy of Chief Obafemi Awolowo. Yet the party’s dominance was dramatically weakened in the 2003 governorship elections.
Daniel emerged victorious in Ogun, polling 449,335 votes against Osoba’s 231,982, according to the recorded results of the election.
The result was part of a wider political realignment in the South-West. Five of the six AD governors seeking re-election lost their states to the PDP. Osoba fell in Ogun, while the AD governors in Oyo, Osun, Ondo and Ekiti also lost. Only Bola Tinubu retained Lagos for the AD.
That outcome remains one of the most instructive moments in the region’s political history.
The lesson is not simply that an incumbent can lose an election. It is that a political structure that appears unassailable can become vulnerable when its leaders begin to mistake political strength for permanent loyalty.
In Ogun, Daniel and the PDP successfully built an alternative political coalition. Academic research into the period records movements of political supporters from the AD to the PDP in the build-up to the election, while Daniel eventually secured the governorship.
The scale of the defeat made the development even more significant. Osoba later described his loss as the product of an alleged electoral conspiracy, a position that has remained part of the political debate surrounding the 2003 election. Other accounts have attributed the AD’s collapse to political divisions, campaign weaknesses and the broader struggle between the party and the PDP-led federal establishment.
Whatever interpretation one adopts, the electoral outcome itself is beyond dispute: the seemingly dominant AD machinery lost its grip on five South-West states.
That is where the shadows of 2003 become relevant to today’s politics.
Across Ogun State, the political conversation ahead of the 2027 governorship election has increasingly centred on powerful political actors and competing structures. One of the most prominent figures is Senator Solomon Olamilekan Adeola, popularly known as Yayi, who has emerged as the APC’s consensus governorship candidate. Governor Dapo Abiodun formally presented Adeola to APC stakeholders in Ogun West in May 2026.
Adeola’s political journey has also generated debate because of his earlier representation of Lagos in the House of Representatives before moving into Ogun politics and representing Ogun West in the Senate. His emergence as the APC’s governorship candidate has consequently attracted both strong support and opposition within the state.
That political reality makes the broader lesson of 2003 worth revisiting.
A powerful political machine can mobilise thousands of supporters, deploy substantial resources and assemble influential endorsements. But the size of a political structure does not automatically translate into votes.
Indeed, excessive displays of political strength can sometimes produce an unintended consequence. They may encourage otherwise divided opponents to find common ground. They may also create the perception that a political establishment has become too powerful, too distant or too confident in its own invincibility.
That does not mean every dominant political figure is destined to suffer the fate of the AD in 2003. History does not repeat itself mechanically. Political circumstances, personalities, institutions and voter behaviour are different in every election.
But history can expose patterns.
The 2003 election showed that yesterday’s political dominance cannot be treated as a guarantee of tomorrow’s victory. It also showed that opposition does not always have to look formidable before it becomes electorally significant.
Sometimes, it grows quietly.
It grows among dissatisfied party members, neglected communities, ambitious young politicians, traditional networks, market associations and voters who may not publicly announce their intentions.
By the time such discontent becomes visible, the political landscape may already have changed.
This is why the most important lesson from the shadows of 2003 is not about Osoba alone, nor is it about any single politician today.
It is about the danger of political certainty.
Incumbency has an expiration date. Popularity must be continually renewed. Grassroots support cannot be assumed indefinitely, and political alliances built around personal loyalty can change when interests shift.
For politicians preparing for another electoral contest, the warning is therefore straightforward: never confuse the size of a crowd with the depth of public support.
Respect the electorate. Listen beyond the immediate political circle. Take criticism seriously. Understand the grievances that may not make headlines. And never assume that an opponent who appears weak today will remain weak when the ballots are counted.
Chief Olusegun Osoba’s defeat in 2003 remains etched into the political history of the South-West because it demonstrated how quickly an apparently secure political empire can unravel.
The enduring message from that episode is simple.
Power is strongest when it remains connected to the people who give it meaning. Once political dominance produces complacency, resistance can begin quietly beneath the surface.
Empires do not always fall because they are weak.
Sometimes, they fall because they become too confident that they cannot.
OFD, a true son of Egbaland
AbdulBasit Saba is a journalist and contributor to Freelanews.com, covering news, business, and public affairs.
