If Kano Falls, Nigeria Becomes Lagos

By Sunday Oladapo

There is a running joke in Nigerian political circles: once Lagos sneezes, the rest of the country catches a cold. Today, that joke feels less like satire and more like prophecy.

“If the Kano bloc collapses, Nigeria is now Lagos.”
It sounds exaggerated—until you trace the political trail of the last few months.

From Bravado to Reality

Not long ago, political loyalists in Edo were confident.
“Edo is not Lagos. We are Obidients,” they said with chest.

Less than seven months later, Jagaban and Oshiomhole rewrote the script.

Governor Godwin Obaseki picked a public fight with the Oba of Benin and went as far as threatening the unity of the ancient kingdom. The response from the Bini people—home and abroad—was swift and decisive.

They didn’t protest.
They didn’t rant.
They voted.

And they voted APC, as though survival depended on it.

Edo didn’t just change party.
Edo became Lagos—by force.

The Quiet March of Political Evangelism

From there, the movement became almost methodical.

Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s political “evangelists” moved from state to state, preaching the gospel of Renewed Hope to weary politicians under torn umbrellas and exhausted coalitions.

Like a joke that suddenly stops being funny:

• Delta collapsed
• Akwa Ibom collapsed
• In Anambra, alignment followed alignment—Bianca Odumegwu-Ojukwu became a minister
• While Goodluck Jonathan was still contemplating a presidential comeback, Bayelsa fell
• Ben Murray-Bruce and other political heavyweights quietly crossed over
• Jonathan, sensing the tide, respected himself and returned to his “Africa’s Good Boy” diplomacy

Then came the aftershocks:

• Enugu collapsed
• The PDP stronghold in Southern Kaduna crumbled
• In one week, two Kwankwasiyya senators and multiple House members defected
• Plateau ported
• The political house T.Y. Danjuma built in Taraba collapsed

And now, all eyes are on Kano.

The Kwankwaso Question

Kano has always been different. It is not just a state; it is a bloc—a political fortress.

But the signs are unmistakable.

The governor is already in.
The cracks are widening.
The collapse looks inevitable—whether Rabiu Kwankwaso likes it or not.

If Kano goes, the last psychological barrier falls.

One Bloc, One Reality

Like it or hate it, Tinubu has achieved what no civilian politician in Nigeria’s history has managed:
He has collapsed the opposition into a single dominant political bloc.

If it were easy, someone else would have done it.

The Case for “Less Politics, More Governance”

Critics may moralise. Supporters may celebrate. But beneath the noise lies a deeper argument: governance works better when politics is reduced, not multiplied.

Why does Lagos consistently outperform states with equal—or greater—resources?

Rivers.
Akwa Ibom.
Kano.
Anambra.
Ogun.

All are resource-rich.
Yet most remain development-poor.

The difference is not money.
It is politicking.

In Lagos:

• Projects are conceived
• Approved by the House of Assembly
• Executed immediately

No endless negotiations.
No compensations to opposition warlords.
No paralysis.

Just execution.

A Controversial Hope

This is why some now argue—quietly but firmly—for a partial democracy:
Less politicking.
Faster decisions.
Stronger institutions.

If Tinubu and those who come after him manage this structure wisely, Nigeria may yet recover opportunities lost to decades of instability—including the squandered promise of the military era.

Those were wasted years.
But this moment, for better or worse, is shaping up to be decisive.

And if Kano finally falls, one thing will be clear:

Nigeria may not officially be Lagos—but politically, it already behaves like it.