The death of former President Muhammadu Buhari closes one of the most consequential chapters in Nigeria’s Fourth Republic. Buhari, whatever one makes of his legacy, was not just a former head of state; he was the symbolic anchor of a political movement, the face of Northern conservative populism, and the reason why the CPC faction stayed within the APC fold, even when it seemed evident that the soul of the party had long shifted southward.

His passing doesn’t just leave a vacuum of sentiment; it leaves behind hard political calculations. In his absence, the last thread holding certain interests together within the APC may finally snap. Add to that the emergence of a new coalition of heavyweights under the banner of the African Democratic Congress (ADC), and the terrain heading into 2027 suddenly looks more volatile, and more open.

Let’s be honest: APC has always been a coalition of contradictions. The 2013 merger was a pragmatic power grab between strange bedfellows. Buhari’s CPC brought northern grassroots support and trust; Tinubu’s ACN brought structure, resources, and deep roots in the South-West; the remnants of the ANPP and a faction of the New PDP added bulk. But it was Buhari’s personal gravitas that kept the coalition stitched together, even as the internal balance tilted increasingly toward the ACN bloc post-2015.

Now that Buhari is gone, and with many CPC loyalists already murmuring about marginalisation under Tinubu’s presidency, what incentive remains for them to stay? For years, the argument was that loyalty to Buhari demanded patience. That argument died with him.

A post-Buhari CPC bloc may either be absorbed quietly into Tinubu’s political orbit, bought off by appointments and favours, or it may finally walk, taking with it a significant chunk of the northern conservative base. The latter is not guaranteed, but it’s more likely now than ever before. Either way, the power calculus inside APC has shifted. Tinubu is now fully in charge, but with full ownership comes full responsibility for any implosion.

Buhari’s death is not just a symbolic moment; it carries significant weight in the calculations of 2027. For much of northern Nigeria, Buhari was more than a politician; he was a cult figure. His identity as a frugal, austere, devout leader spoke directly to the conscience of the northern masses. In 2011, when he lost the presidential election to Goodluck Jonathan, I was in Kaduna. The aftermath was pure chaos—widespread violence erupted across the North. That reaction was not orchestrated; it was organic. People felt that an injustice had been done to “their own.”

That same loyalty followed Buhari into the APC, even when the party’s centre of gravity shifted toward the South-West. The CPC bloc, many of whom came into APC because of Buhari, not because of Tinubu or any other power player, stayed on because of personal fidelity to their leader. Now that Buhari is no more, the glue binding them to the APC may be effectively dissolved.

In fact, signs of disaffection had been building long before his death. Several key figures aligned with Buhari’s legacy—former CPC elements like Nasir El-Rufai, Sule Lamido, Abubaker Malami, and even Rotimi Amaechi—have already aligned themselves with the ADC. Others have either gone quiet or begun exploring other alliances. The wave is unmistakable: the Buhari camp is on the move.

What’s left in the APC, then, are actors who have either fully assimilated into the Tinubu-led structure or who calculate that their future still lies within the party—perhaps through gubernatorial influence or access to federal patronage.

Figures like Governors Umar Bago (Niger), Babagana Zulum (Borno), and Mai Mala Buni (Yobe) may stay, if only out of expediency. But even they will be watching closely: if the ADC continues to build momentum, even that loyalty could shift. Northern Nigeria, post-Buhari, is a floating bloc, and anyone who captures its imagination could reshape the political map.

This is also the first time since 2003 that the North is politically leaderless. There is no obvious successor to Buhari’s symbolic influence. While Atiku may try to claim that mantle, and el-Rufai may position himself as a bridge between North and South, no one yet commands Buhari’s kind of emotional loyalty. That vacuum makes 2027 even more unpredictable.

One of the most telling political responses to Buhari’s death came from his protégé-turned-adversary, Nasir Ahmad el-Rufai. In a deeply personal tribute, El-Rufai described Buhari as his “political mentor,” recounting how the late president nudged him into contesting for the governorship of Kaduna State and stood by him throughout his tenure. He acknowledged Buhari’s critical role in building the APC, crediting him with the foresight to initiate the merger that defeated an incumbent in 2015, and praised his rare personal charm, political resilience, and connection with the ordinary people.

But beyond the respectful eulogy lies a more layered subtext. el-Rufai is no longer in the APC. His running battles with the Tinubu-led government are well documented. His recent movement into the ADC—just weeks before Buhari’s passing—was already being interpreted as a symbolic break from the post-Buhari APC. Now, with Buhari gone, el-Rufai’s exit seems more like a declaration that the CPC legacy has no future in Tinubu’s party.

That makes el-Rufai’s tribute more than a farewell—it is a eulogy for an era, and a veiled political statement that the man who once held the North together is gone, and the fight for what comes next has truly begun. His presence in the ADC gives the new coalition not only credibility but also access to a northern network that once stood solidly behind Buhari. If el-Rufai is able to fill even a fraction of that void, the APC’s northern flank could begin to erode much faster than anyone in Bourdillon anticipates.

The coalition: A marriage of convenience?
The emergence of a new political coalition under the African Democratic Congress (ADC) banner is arguably the most consequential development in Nigeria’s opposition politics since 1999. Spearheaded by former Vice President Atiku Abubakar, former Labour Party candidate Peter Obi, and former governors like Nasir el-Rufai, Rotimi Amaechi, and Rauf Aregbesola, this coalition appears to be the opposition’s most strategic attempt to prevent another fragmented run against the APC in 2027.

The numbers from 2023 speak volumes: Tinubu won with just 37 per cent of the vote, while Atiku and Obi secured a combined 54 per cent. The argument is straightforward, had they been united, Tinubu may never have been president. With the economy reeling from his economic reforms and growing discontent across social classes, this coalition seems poised to exploit the APC’s vulnerability.

Moreover, the array of political heavyweights behind the movement, including David Mark, Tambuwal, Malami, Abdullahi, Lamido, and others, signals not just an elite consensus but a potentially formidable national outreach. The diversity of political traditions, ethnic identities, and regional loyalties within the coalition is designed to mirror Nigeria’s complex political architecture.

But beneath the optics lies a dangerous fragility. This is not a party; it is, for now, a coalition of ambition. Every major figure in that group is a presidential hopeful in disguise, or at least wants to install one. Atiku still believes it’s his turn. Obi has a passionate youth base that sees him as the symbol of a new Nigeria. el-Rufai sees himself as the bridge between the North and South. Amaechi is not done fighting for relevance. And Aregbesola? A loyalist-turned-critic with his own power network in the South-West. There is no ideological glue here, just the shared frustration of men who lost out in their previous political homes.

But here lies the most pressing question: can this coalition last?
History warns us to be cautious. Nigeria’s political elite have often proven more adept at forming alliances than sustaining them. Ideological coherence is minimal, and personal ambition often trumps party discipline. The ADC, until recently a peripheral party, now finds itself at the centre of an ambitious experiment, and the jury is still out on whether it has the structure and institutional depth to carry such weight.

To be continued tomorrow.
Perez is a university lecturer, political analyst,
and academic writer.