By Seyi Gesinde
July 15, 2026
“Politics have no permanent friends, only permanent interests.”
The quote is so frequently attributed to Lord Palmerston that it has almost become political scripture. Whether he said those exact words or not scarcely matters. History has behaved as though he did.
Niccolò Machiavelli would probably smile.
George Orwell would probably recognise the script.
William Shakespeare would probably remind us that “one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.”
Politics has always been less interested in affection than in arithmetic.
That is why yesterday’s embrace often becomes today’s cold handshake.
Which brings us to Governor Seyi Makinde.
There was a time when he appeared to be one of the most useful opposition politicians President Bola Tinubu could have wished for.
The year was 2023.
While the Peoples Democratic Party rallied behind Atiku Abubakar, Makinde and the G5 governors insisted that equity demanded a Southern presidency.
Constitutionally, they remained in the PDP.
Politically, they rewrote the election.
History will forever record that Oyo State, governed by a PDP governor, was won by the APC presidential candidate.
History has a sense of humour.
Politics has an even better one.
One is therefore tempted to ask a question that historians enjoy asking.
What changed?
Not the Constitution.
Not the electoral map.
Not the calendar.
Perhaps only interests.
Edmund Burke warned that those who fail to learn from history are condemned to misunderstand the present.
Politics, unfortunately, specialises in selective memory.
Yesterday’s indispensable ally quietly becomes today’s uncomfortable reminder.
The applause fades.
The distance grows.
Nobody announces the divorce.
Everyone notices the separate bedrooms.
Then comes another curious phenomenon.
The closer the next election approaches, the louder the rumours become.
Nobody has declared.
Yet everyone has allegedly declared.
Nobody has formed a campaign.
Yet every movement is analysed like an election manifesto.
A governor attends an event.
He is plotting.
He grants an interview.
He is positioning.
He asks questions.
He must be campaigning.
Silence becomes strategy.
Speech becomes ambition.
Existence itself becomes evidence.
The late Chinua Achebe once observed that the trouble with Nigeria is fundamentally a failure of leadership.
Perhaps another trouble is our inability to distinguish political disagreement from political rebellion.
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A democracy that becomes uncomfortable with questions gradually becomes uncomfortable with thought itself.
Socrates irritated Athens simply by asking questions.
His reward was hemlock.
Questions have always frightened power more than answers.
Power can debate an answer.
Power struggles to control a question.
Governor Makinde asked questions following the tragic Oriire kidnapping.
The questions quickly became a political conversation.
Interesting.
Since when did inquiry become insubordination?
Since when did curiosity become conspiracy?
Or has politics reached that familiar stage where every sentence is examined not for its truth, but for its electoral implications?
Machiavelli understood rulers.
Orwell understood power.
Achebe understood Nigeria.
None of them would likely be surprised.
Politics often demands loyalty.
Power frequently demands applause.
History, however, demands honesty.
There is another irony.
The same qualities celebrated in an ally often become suspicious in a potential rival.
Independence becomes stubbornness.
Visibility becomes ambition.
Popularity becomes danger.
Competence becomes a threat.
As Friedrich Nietzsche observed, “He who fights with monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster.”
Politics sometimes begins by defeating opponents.
It occasionally ends by manufacturing them.
Perhaps nothing unusual is happening.
Perhaps this is simply another chapter in humanity’s oldest profession after survival, the relentless pursuit of power.
The Roman historian Tacitus wrote that the desire for power is itself the most powerful of desires.
Two thousand years later, Nigerian politics continues to provide fresh footnotes to that observation.
So, when exactly did Seyi Makinde cease to be a friend?
Was it after the ballots were counted?
After the inauguration?
After the whispers of 2027 began?
Or was friendship in politics never intended to outlive usefulness?
The French philosopher Voltaire believed that history never repeats itself, but human beings often repeat history.
Perhaps that is the answer.
Perhaps this story is not really about Seyi Makinde.
Perhaps it is about the timeless tragedy of politics itself.
Where loyalty is rented.
Gratitude has a short shelf life.
Memory is selective.
And friendship often expires precisely when it becomes politically inconvenient.
