The just-concluded Osun State Governorship Election, from my personal observation and assessment of the political developments surrounding the exercise, was far more than a routine contest for political power between candidates and political parties. It represented a consequential moment in Nigeria’s democratic journey, one that offered a compelling window into the resilience of the electorate, the shifting architecture of political power and the enduring capacity of citizens to determine the direction of governance through the ballot.
I followed the electoral process with considerable interest, paying close attention to the political atmosphere preceding the election, the mobilisation of voters, the strategies deployed by competing political forces, the conduct of political actors and the events that unfolded before, during and after the voting exercise.
My conclusion is simple: the Osun election has left behind lessons that extend far beyond the boundaries of the state.
Let me, therefore, begin by congratulating His Excellency, Senator Ademola Adeleke, on his re-election as Governor of Osun State. I equally commend the people of Osun State for participating in the democratic process and for exercising their constitutional right to determine who should continue to occupy the highest political office in the state.
For me, however, the significance of this election transcends the victory of one candidate or the fortunes of one political party. It provides an opportunity to interrogate a fundamental question at the heart of representative democracy: Who ultimately determines political power, the political establishment or the people?
My answer is unequivocal: the people.
Governor Adeleke’s administration has operated within a particularly challenging political environment, characterised by intense political contestation and a prolonged dispute over the legitimacy of local government leadership in Osun State. Against the backdrop of that political and legal dispute, statutory local government allocations were reportedly frozen by federal authorities beginning in early 2025.
For any state administration, such circumstances would constitute a formidable political, administrative and fiscal challenge. Yet, despite the political headwinds, institutional controversies, sustained pressure and what many perceived as political persecution, the people of Osun returned to the ballot and made their choice.
That, in my view, is one of the most profound dimensions of this election.
It demonstrates that political pressure does not necessarily translate into political surrender. It demonstrates, perhaps even more importantly, that when citizens become sufficiently convinced about their political convictions, attempts to intimidate, discourage or overwhelm them politically may ultimately prove inadequate.
This brings me to one of the most frequently invoked expressions in Nigerian political discourse: “the system.”
During virtually every election season, politicians and political commentators speak about “the system” as though it were an invisible, omnipotent and invincible machinery capable of predetermining electoral outcomes irrespective of the preferences of the electorate.
I do not subscribe to that political mythology.
The “system” is imaginary. The people are the system.
The word “system” has increasingly become a political instrument, sometimes deployed to create an atmosphere of inevitability, to discourage political participation and to convince citizens that certain electoral outcomes have already been predetermined.
But democracy does not operate on the assumption that political power is permanently owned by a particular individual, structure, godfather or establishment.
Political structures can be challenged.
Political alliances can collapse.
Political calculations can change.
And political establishments can be rejected by the very electorate they once assumed was permanently within their control.
No political structure, godfather, network or establishment should therefore be regarded as permanently more powerful than a determined electorate.
When citizens collectively arrive at the conclusion that they will no longer compromise their political convictions, political calculations that once appeared invincible can suddenly begin to unravel.
The Osun election, from my perspective, has provided another illustration of this reality.
It is a reminder that the ballot remains one of the most potent instruments available to citizens in a democratic society.
A voter may appear politically insignificant when viewed individually, but hundreds of thousands of such voters, acting collectively, possess the capacity to fundamentally alter the political equation.
That is the essence of democracy.
The electorate may listen to political promises, attend rallies, observe campaigns and engage with competing narratives throughout an election season. But when citizens enter the polling booth, the political hierarchy is temporarily levelled.
The powerful and the powerless possess the same fundamental electoral instrument.
One vote.
That single vote can reward performance.
It can punish arrogance.
It can reject political imposition.
It can endorse continuity.
And it can alter the trajectory of an entire state.
This is why the Osun election, in my personal assessment, deserves to be viewed beyond the narrow prism of partisan victory or defeat.
It should compel political parties, candidates and political establishments to reconsider their relationship with the electorate.
Citizens are not merely numerical assets to be mobilised during campaigns and forgotten after elections.
They are the source of democratic legitimacy.
They are the custodians of the mandate.
And ultimately, they are the ones who decide whether political authority is renewed or withdrawn.
The lesson is particularly important in a political environment where the language of “structure,” “connection,” “influence” and “the system” is often used to create an impression that certain politicians are electorally untouchable.
No politician should be considered untouchable.
No political structure should be considered permanently invincible.
No godfather should assume perpetual ownership of the electorate.
And no political party should mistake organisational strength for permanent popular legitimacy.
Political power is not inherited property.
It is a mandate entrusted by the people.
Governor Adeleke’s renewed mandate, therefore, should not merely be celebrated as a personal political triumph. It should also be interpreted as another reminder that the electorate remains an indispensable force in determining the political destiny of a state.
The people of Osun have spoken.
Whatever political interpretations may subsequently emerge from the election, one fundamental principle remains: democracy ultimately derives its legitimacy from the consent of the governed.
For me, that is the central message I take away from the just-concluded Osun State Governorship Election.
The political class may have its structures.
The parties may have their machinery.
The godfathers may have their networks.
The establishments may have their influence.
But when the people become sufficiently conscious, determined and united in their political choice, the calculations of the political establishment can change dramatically.
That is why I believe the most important phrase to take away from the Osun experience is not “the system.”
It is “the people.”
Because in politics, the name “system” is often used to describe an imaginary force that supposedly cannot be defeated.
But the truth is much simpler:
The people are the system.
— Michael Samuel Idoko
PDP Candidate for Ogugu Constituency,
2027 Kogi State Assembly Election .
