As Nigeria’s political landscape shifts toward the 2027 general elections, a familiar yet increasingly dominant specter has returned to the fore, the consensus candidate.

From the strategic caucuses in Ogun State to the high-stakes factional battles in Lagos, Rivers and Adamawa, the word consensus is being deployed as a master key intended to unlock party unity.

On the surface, it is a pragmatic tool for stability; beneath it, however, lies a delicate tension between the collective voice of the people and the singular will of the elite.

Proponents of the consensus model argue that it is a necessary buffer against the chaos of Nigerian primaries. Traditionally, direct and indirect primaries in Nigeria have been expensive, litigious, and often violent. By selecting a candidate through mutual agreement, parties aim to mitigate internal friction, reduce the influence of money politics during delegates’ voting, and present a formidable, unified front to the electorate. In a diverse and often polarized society, the idea of arriving at a middle ground resonates with a cultural preference for harmony over open confrontation.

Yet, this harmony is frequently a facade. The Electoral Act 2022 was specifically designed to guard against the abuse of this process, stipulating that a consensus candidate can only emerge if all other aspirants in the race provide a written, signed withdrawal from the contest. This legal safeguard acknowledges a bitter reality: in Nigeria, consensus is often imposition rebranded.

The threat posed by the rise of consensus is the gradual erosion of internal party democracy. When a candidate is anointed in a closed-door caucus of godfathers or strategic leaders, the average party member is disenfranchised.

The marketplace of ideas that a primary is supposed to be is replaced by a coronation. This creates a dangerous disconnect; a candidate may have the blessing of the party hierarchy but lack the genuine mandate of the grassroots.

Furthermore, the consensus model risks stifling the emergence of new, credible voices particularly youth, women, and outsiders who may not have the established clout to be considered in a backroom deal. It reinforces the status quo, turning political parties into exclusive clubs where the entrance fee is loyalty to the existing power structure rather than a vision for the people.

As we move toward the 2026 primary season, Nigerian political parties must tread carefully. Consensus should be a genuine reflection of consent, not a byproduct of coercion or administrative fiat. If the process continues to be used as a shortcut to avoid the rigors of democratic competition, it will eventually hollow out the very institutions meant to uphold our democracy. True unity is not found in the silence of the suppressed, but in the vibrant, sometimes messy, participation of the many.

Nigeria’s democracy is far too young to be traded for the convenience of its elites. The choice of who leads must remain, as much as possible, in the hands of the people, not just the powerful few.