OPINION (NPA) — Nearly two decades after Olusegun Obasanjo and Atiku Abubakar left Nigeria’s highest elected offices, their political feud remains remarkably alive.
The latest exchange between the former President and his former Vice-President has once again revived one of the most enduring political rivalries of Nigeria’s Fourth Republic.
At the heart of the dispute is a question that has never entirely disappeared from Nigeria’s political memory: what really happened between Obasanjo and Atiku, and why does the bitterness surrounding their relationship continue nearly 20 years later?
The answer may lie partly in the events of 2006, when the controversial proposal to amend the Constitution and potentially extend the tenure of the President became one of the biggest political battles of the era.
But the story is also about personal rivalry, competing political ambitions, allegations of disloyalty and corruption, and the difficulty some political actors have in moving beyond old battles.
The Third-Term Controversy
The third-term controversy remains one of the defining political episodes of Nigeria’s Fourth Republic.
In 2006, speculation intensified that President Obasanjo was seeking a constitutional amendment that would allow him to remain in office beyond the constitutionally prescribed two terms.
The Presidency did not initially provide the unequivocal denial that many Nigerians expected. As the speculation continued, the issue moved from political gossip into a major national controversy.
The National Assembly became the principal battleground.
Governors, political parties, legislators and rival political factions all became involved. The proposed constitutional amendment eventually failed.
Atiku was among the most prominent political figures to oppose the tenure-extension proposal.
He described it as unconstitutional and morally wrong. His opposition became an important obstacle to the effort to amend the Constitution.
There is room for debate over Atiku’s motivations.
His supporters can point to constitutional principle. His critics can argue that presidential ambition and political survival were also factors.
Both interpretations can coexist.
What is less difficult to dispute is that Atiku became one of the leading political opponents of the proposed third-term arrangement.
That confrontation appears to have left a lasting mark on his relationship with Obasanjo.
Was Third-Term The Unforgivable Offence?
Atiku’s political record is not beyond criticism.
His career has been marked by controversies, allegations and political confrontations. His conduct as Vice-President and his subsequent political decisions remain legitimate subjects of public scrutiny.
But there is an important distinction between criticism, allegation and established wrongdoing.
If Atiku was disloyal to Obasanjo while serving as Vice-President, the former President was entitled to challenge him politically.
If there were credible allegations of corruption, the appropriate institutions were entitled to investigate them.
The same principle should apply today.
An allegation should not automatically become a fact simply because it has been repeated for many years.
This distinction is particularly relevant to controversies surrounding Atiku’s role as chairman of the National Council on Privatisation.
His tenure attracted allegations concerning the handling of public assets and the privatisation process. But political controversy is not the same thing as a criminal conviction.
That distinction matters in any serious account of Nigeria’s political history.
The PTDF Controversy
The controversy surrounding the Petroleum Technology Development Fund requires even greater care.
The allegations against Atiku were investigated during the Obasanjo administration. The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission, under Nuhu Ribadu, examined the matter, after which Obasanjo constituted an administrative panel headed by then Attorney-General and Minister of Justice, Bayo Ojo.
The panel produced findings adverse to Atiku.
But the matter subsequently went to court.
In November 2006, a Lagos State High Court set aside the Administrative Panel’s report, holding, among other things, that the proceedings infringed judicial powers and amounted to an abuse of executive power.
That ruling does not mean that every allegation made against Atiku was proven false.
Neither does it amount to a fresh judicial trial of all the underlying allegations.
What it does mean is that a significant administrative finding relied upon by the Obasanjo administration was subsequently nullified by a court.
That distinction should inform how the matter is discussed today.
There is a fundamental difference between saying, “I remain convinced that Atiku acted improperly,” and presenting an allegation as though it were a judicially established fact.
For public figures, particularly former presidents, that distinction carries considerable weight.
An Old Feud, a New Accusation
The latest controversy has again demonstrated how deeply the political battles of the Obasanjo years continue to resonate.
Obasanjo recently alleged that Atiku gave the late former Speaker of the House of Representatives, Ghali Umar Na’Abba, five million naira to initiate impeachment proceedings against him.
Atiku has denied the allegation.
He also questioned the propriety of making such a serious accusation against a deceased person who is no longer able to respond.
The competing claims remain disputed.
But the episode is significant for another reason: it shows that the political arguments of 2003–2007 have not entirely disappeared.
Na’Abba is dead.
Obasanjo is now 89, while Atiku is 79.
Yet a political confrontation from nearly two decades ago continues to generate fresh accusations and rebuttals.
That should prompt a larger question about Nigeria’s political culture.
At what point does accountability end and personal grievance begin?
Obasanjo’s Legacy is Bigger Than Atiku
Whatever one’s assessment of the former President, Obasanjo’s place in Nigerian history is considerably larger than his dispute with Atiku.
He was a military head of state before returning to power as an elected civilian president in 1999.
His administration was associated with significant economic and diplomatic developments, including Nigeria’s debt-relief negotiations.
He remains one of Nigeria’s most internationally recognised elder statesmen.
That record deserves neither unquestioning praise nor blanket condemnation.
It deserves historical scrutiny.
Obasanjo has repeatedly denied seeking a third term. In 2023, he again rejected the claim, saying he never asked for another term and arguing that, had he genuinely wanted one, he would have been capable of obtaining it.
Yet political history is not always determined solely by the intentions of those who occupy office.
It is also shaped by events, political manoeuvres, public perceptions and institutional consequences.
That is why the third-term controversy continues to occupy a place in assessments of the Obasanjo presidency.
It may not define his entire legacy.
But it remains an important part of it.
The Question of Forgiveness
There is another dimension to the Obasanjo-Atiku dispute: the long-standing perception that Obasanjo can be unforgiving towards those who cross him politically.
That perception has been expressed not only by political opponents but also by people who have known him personally.
In his memoir, You Must Set Forth at Dawn, Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka offered a sharply critical assessment of Obasanjo’s personality, including his tolerance for criticism.
Soyinka’s assessment is his own interpretation and should not be treated as conclusive evidence of Obasanjo’s motives in every political dispute.
But it contributes to a broader public debate about the former president’s political relationships and the persistence of some of his rivalries.
Another account comes from the late Lieutenant General Victor Samuel Leonard Malu.
In In the Name of Victor, Malu recounted an incident following Obasanjo’s visit to Monrovia in July 1999 involving Major General Felix Mujakperuo, who was then Force Commander of ECOMOG.
According to Malu’s account, Obasanjo subsequently directed him, as Chief of Army Staff, to retire Mujakperuo.
Malu said he sought clarification and was told that Mujakperuo had previously chaired the Special Military Tribunal that sentenced Obasanjo to imprisonment following the 1995 alleged coup plot.
The account has been cited as evidence of the possibility that Obasanjo retained strong memories of past conflicts.
But it remains an account of events as remembered and interpreted by Malu, rather than independent proof of Obasanjo’s motive.
That distinction is essential.
Historical commentary must leave room for evidence, competing accounts and uncertainty.
Political History Should Not Become Personal History
There is no case for forgetting Nigeria’s political history.
Constitutional controversies, alleged corruption, political betrayals and abuses of power should be documented and remembered.
But remembering is not the same as remaining trapped in the past.
Former leaders have a particular responsibility to demonstrate that political disagreements can eventually be placed in perspective.
That responsibility becomes even greater with time.
Obasanjo has lived through virtually every major chapter of modern Nigerian political history: military rule, civil war, imprisonment, democratic transition and presidential government.
He has seen political alliances form and collapse across several generations.
The question now is what value is gained by repeatedly reopening battles that began in 2003, 2005 and 2006.
Nigeria’s current political challenges are considerable.
The country needs its former leaders to contribute to institutional stability, democratic development and national reconciliation—not simply to revisit old political scores.
Atiku Also Has Questions to Answer
None of this absolves Atiku. His political record should be examined with the same seriousness applied to that of every other national leader.
His conduct as Vice-President remains part of the historical record. So do his subsequent political ambitions, alliances and controversies.
He cannot demand fairness for himself while asking Nigerians to ignore uncomfortable questions about his own career.
But accountability should not be confused with personal fixation.
The Nigerian public does not have to choose between the proposition that Obasanjo was right about everything and the proposition that Atiku was right about everything.
Neither is necessary.
Both men may have made mistakes.
Both may have been motivated, at different times, by political ambition.
Both may have contributed to the collapse of their relationship.
And both should be judged by the historical record.
The Final Irony
The irony is difficult to miss.
The third-term proposal ultimately failed, yet the controversy surrounding it became one of the most enduring features of the Obasanjo-Atiku relationship.
Atiku’s opposition to the proposal contributed to the breakdown of his relationship with Obasanjo and helped establish him as one of the most visible opponents of the effort to alter the constitutional order at the time.
Obasanjo, for his part, has consistently denied that he sought a third term.
Still, the controversy refuses to disappear.
It has become a ghost of Nigeria’s political past.
And whenever Obasanjo and Atiku return to their old political arguments, that ghost appears again.
Perhaps the more important question for Nigerians today is not who won the political battle of 2006.
It is what the episode taught the country.
It demonstrated the importance of constitutional limits, institutional checks and balances, political accountability and the need to distinguish allegation from established fact.
It also offers a lesson in political leadership.
Former leaders will inevitably have disagreements. Some disputes may never be completely resolved.
But national history is bigger than the personal relationships of the people who once occupied public office.
Obasanjo’s legacy should not be reduced to his quarrel with Atiku.
Atiku’s political history should not be reduced to his disagreement with Obasanjo.
Nearly twenty years later, perhaps the time has come to allow the historical record to speak for itself.
The most consequential victory may no longer be winning an old political argument.
It may be the wisdom to move beyond it.
