In Nigeria, politics has become many things: theatre, commerce, inheritance, and increasingly, a family relay race in opposite directions.
A curious pattern has emerged in recent years. The patriarch stands firmly in one political camp, thundering against the ruling order or defending it with evangelical zeal, while his son, daughter, brother, or close relative quietly pitches a tent in the rival party.
One cannot help but ask: is this ideological diversity at work, or simply political insurance dressed in democratic robes?
Take Nasir El-Rufai, whose son, Bello El-Rufai, has remained in the APC political fold even as the father’s alliances and oppositional moves have stirred public debate.
Consider Atiku Abubakar, a perennial heavyweight in opposition politics, while reports have repeatedly highlighted how members of his family have found political accommodation across different power blocs.
Then there is Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso and the wider Kano political aristocracy, where family and faction often appear to travel on parallel lanes, occasionally intersecting only when power is at stake.
And of course, Abdullahi Umar Ganduje and others in the ever-revolving elite circle complete the portrait of a political class that seems determined to remain relevant, whichever way the electoral wind blows.
This, we are told, is democracy.
Perhaps it is.
But Nigerians are entitled to ask whether what they are witnessing is genuine pluralism or simply elite risk management.
For in a country where ideology is often as portable as a party membership card, it is difficult to ignore the possibility that these family dispersals are less about conviction and more about strategic positioning.
Why put all the eggs in one basket when one son can guard the ruling party, another cousin can warm a seat in the opposition, and a brother can float conveniently in the middle?
If the government changes, the family still wins.
If the opposition triumphs, the family still wins.
If the nation loses, well, that is usually the people’s private burden.
This is the genius – and tragedy, of Nigerian politicking.
The ordinary citizen joins a party out of hope, sentiment, ethnicity, or ideology. The political elite, however, often join out of arithmetic.
To them, politics is not a battlefield of ideas but a diversified portfolio.
One branch of the family in APC.
Another in PDP.
A nephew in ADC.
A brother in NNPP.
An in-law waiting patiently in Labour.
No matter who wins, somebody from the compound is already inside.
It is difficult not to admire the craftsmanship.
This is not mere politics; it is dynasty-backed hedging, a masterclass in survival.
And yet, it raises troubling questions.
When politicians with well-documented histories of patronage, defections, and opportunism spread their kin across rival camps, are they broadening democratic participation – or simply fooling the electorate into believing there is a contest where, in reality, the house always wins?
Perhaps this is the new national slogan:
One family, many parties, one interest.
Power.
So yes, it may be lawful.
Yes, relatives are entitled to independent political choices.
But in a nation wearied by corruption scandals, recycled faces, and elite impunity, the optics are impossible to ignore.
It looks less like democracy and more like a carefully scripted family business.
The people vote.
The dynasty collects.
And after every election, the same surnames remain standing – only the party colours have changed.
That, dear Nigerians, is not just politics.
That is political insurance.
And business, as always, is booming.