Like Jonathan, Like Ambode

FACTFILE with Lanre Alfred

…truth behind the headlines, conspiracies, cover-ups, trials and triumphs

I have watched, with a mixture of amusement and alarm, the recent groundswell of chatter urging Akinwunmi Ambode to make a dramatic return to the Lagos governorship race.

I see the hashtags, the glowing online columns, the carefully planted stories in fringe blogs, and the whispers at political dinners in Ikeja and Victoria Island. Everyone suddenly claims that “Ambode is the people’s choice.” They say “the streets want him back,” that “he is Bola Tinubu’s secret anointed,” and that “the President himself is tired of the current order in Lagos.”

But I have been in this game too long not to recognise a familiar pattern. I have seen political jobbers at work, the desperate middlemen who thrive on fanning the embers of ambition in men who should know better. They did it yesterday to Goodluck Jonathan, and today they are at it again with Akinwunmi Ambode. And if Ambode isn’t careful, if he allows them to seduce him into believing that he is Tinubu’s preferred choice, he may find himself on the same slippery slope of political miscalculation that has claimed many men before him.

Let me start with Jonathan. How many times have we read planted stories that Goodluck Jonathan was preparing to return to Aso Rock? They said he had been begged by PDP elders to “rescue the party.” They said northern leaders had promised to back him because he would only serve one term. They said Tinubu himself would secretly support him to stabilise the polity. All lies. Nothing but glossy tales from the rumour mill.

And yet, they pushed and pushed, hoping Jonathan would take the bait. Imagine the absurdity, running against Bola Ahmed Tinubu, the very man with whom he has cultivated one of the most mutually beneficial friendships in Nigeria’s political space. The same Tinubu who stood by him during tense transitions, who never disrespected him even when their camps clashed. The jobbers wanted Jonathan to become cannon fodder in a war that was never his to fight.

That is why I am forced to sound this alarm now: Ambode must not allow himself to be Jonathan-ed.

I’d advise Ambode to shun the seduction of romanticised return, especially when he is yet to receive any assurance from the powers that be. Yet, the chorus is growing louder. APC foot soldiers who never quite found their feet in Lagos politics, online media desperate for clicks, and a handful of disgruntled party men are the ones stoking this fantasy. They rumour that Ambode is the only man who can “save Lagos from the grip of vested interests.” They claim President Tinubu is secretly rooting for his return. They circulate stories that “Abuja is fully behind him.”

But let us pause for a moment. Who has heard Tinubu say so? Has the President called a press conference to declare Ambode his candidate? Has he so much as dropped a hint in the numerous private meetings he holds with Lagos power brokers? Not once. Not a single word.  Yet these political traders, who dine fat on manufactured rumours, insist otherwise. I have seen this movie before: the flattering of egos, the half-truths spun in smoky lounges, the assurance that “the oga at the top is behind you.” And then, when the man takes the plunge, when he discovers that the ground beneath him is hollow, it is too late. The same people who urged him on will vanish, or worse, switch sides.

Both Jonathan and Ambode must beware the danger of false endorsements. I am always wary whenever I hear the phrase, “everybody wants him back.” Who is everybody? The party hierarchy in Lagos? Certainly not. The state structures remain firmly under the grip of the ruling establishment. The President? Again, nobody has evidence. The streets? Lagosians may murmur about missed opportunities, but elections are not won on murmurs, they are won on machinery, and that machinery is not in Ambode’s pocket.

Ambode should remember: this was exactly the script they gave Jonathan. They told him “Nigeria wants you back.” They told him “Tinubu is quietly with you.” They said “the PDP cannot survive without you.” In the end, Jonathan wisely avoided the trap. He refused to be used as a pawn against his friend. Ambode should borrow a page from that caution.

What makes their stories even more tantalising is the eerie similarity in Jonathan and Ambode’s trajectories. Both men were “one-term wonders,” thrust into power by circumstances bigger than themselves. Jonathan rose to the presidency after Yar’Adua’s death and won an election in his own right, only to be swept aside after a single full term. Ambode, handpicked by Tinubu, enjoyed four years as governor but could not secure his party’s blessing for a second.

It is this shared fate that the jobbers exploit. They say: “Both men were victims of political cabals. Both men deserve a comeback. Both men should rise again.” It is a seductive narrative, but a false one. Because politics is not a fairy tale; it is not a Nollywood script where the wronged hero always returns for redemption.

In truth, Jonathan has moved on. He has found relevance as a statesman, a continental envoy, a respected elder. Ambode too can find peace outside the suffocating arena of Lagos politics. But only if he resists the urge to be used as a battering ram by desperate elements with vendettas of their own.

Beware the Political Jobbers

I have seen these characters up close: men who hover around corridors of power, never elected, never influential in their own right, but always scheming. Their talent lies in whispering into the ears of fallen gladiators, inflating egos, and promising relevance where none exists.

They are the same ones who told Jonathan to contest. They are the same ones now telling Ambode to jump back into the ring. And make no mistake, their interest is not Ambode’s success. Their interest is in weaponising him against Tinubu, or against the Lagos power structure, or against their personal enemies.

Once Ambode throws his hat into the ring and the blowback comes, they will be nowhere to be found. I know them too well; I have watched them hop from one sinking ship to another, always scheming, never loyal.

If I could speak directly to Akinwunmi Ambode, I would say: sir, be very careful. Do not allow desperation or flattery to drag you into a fight that is not yours. Lagos politics is unforgiving. Tinubu is not only President, he is also the single most influential political figure in the state. Nobody, absolutely nobody, can claim to know his mind except himself. If he has not publicly or privately indicated support for you, do not be deceived by whispers.

Politics has no space for sentimental comebacks. The idea that “the people want you” is charming, but power is not transferred through charm—it is negotiated, structured, and brutally contested. Do not walk into a battle you cannot win, because regret in politics is a scar that never heals.

Goodluck Jonathan has played his cards wisely so far. Despite relentless pressure, he has not fallen into the trap of running against Tinubu. He understands that friendship, legacy, and dignity matter more than one more term in power.

Ambode should do the same. Instead of being dragged into this quixotic quest, he should focus on reinventing himself as a technocrat, a respected elder in Lagos affairs, or even as a statesman beyond the narrow corridors of partisan politics. Lagos will always remember him as governor; he does not need another bruising campaign to validate his relevance.

And so I say, like Jonathan, like Ambode. Both men know what it means to taste power for just one term. Both men are being flattered by jobbers and hustlers into attempting comebacks that serve other people’s interests more than their own. Both men must resist.

Because in Nigerian politics, nothing is more dangerous than being used as a pawn in another man’s vendetta. Jonathan has so far sidestepped the trap. Ambode must learn from his caution. Otherwise, the same jobbers chanting sweet promises today will be the first to laugh tomorrow if he stumbles.

I have seen this story too many times not to recognise it. And so I write, with all the urgency I can muster: Ambode, beware. The drums they are beating for you are not of celebration; they are war drums, and the battlefield is one you do not need to enter.

Interestingly, however, the first time I met Akinwunmi Ambode, he was not yet governor. He was a candidate then, a man on the cusp of something vast. A mutual friend had arranged the meeting. “You must meet him,” he’d said with the kind of insistence only truth gives birth to. “He’s going to be Lagos governor.” And there he was: calm, collected, clad in simplicity, yet wrapped in a charisma that didn’t shout but lingered.

He received me with a warmth I hadn’t expected, a glow in his smile, an embrace in his handshake. There was something soft-spoken yet sturdy about him, the kind of presence that commands without posturing. He listened more than he spoke. When he did speak, he said with a quiet confidence: “We’ll do a lot together. This journey is just beginning.” I believed him. He meant it.

To emphasise his willingness to work with me, he looked to an aide who was present and instructed him to ensure that his administration constructively engaged with me. But that meeting would be my only encounter with him until he was elected as Lagos’ governor. There would be no encore.

Indeed, life has its rhythms and reroutes. After Ambode won the election, the inevitable gulf of governance widened the distance between us. Our paths diverged. I would think of that moment from time to time.

Then, years later, I met him again. I was invited to an interactive roundtable session with him, now as the Governor of Lagos State. The room was brimming with guests, opinions, egos and hopes. When it was my turn to speak, I rose and introduced myself with a smile and a tinge of nostalgia. Before I could say more, his voice pierced gently through the room: “Where have you been all these years?” He remembered.

I told him I had been around and to that he quipped that he was told I had relocated abroad. Instantly, he turned to that member of  his  cabinet, a commissioner, who was present when he pledged to engage me few years earlier. He stared  at him quizzically, asking why  he was told that I was unreachable and no longer in the country, while I was in  the country. Again, he reiterated his promise and instructed that commissioner to ensure his government engaged with me  productively.    

Although, our meeting was  once again sabotaged, that moment was seared in my memory, not because of flattery, but because of what it revealed. Ambode does not forget. He stores encounters like seeds, waiting for the season when they may sprout again. In a world where people discard faces and friendships once they ascend the mountaintop, Ambode remembered mine. That, to me, speaks of the essence of the man.

He remembers people. He honours connections. He sees collaborators, not pawns. He values partnership. His memory is not simply photographic; it is empathetic, anchored in a deep sense of continuity and human worth. That moment said to me: You matter. Few politicians have ever said as much without words.