Aregbesola, Atiku, and the Judas Kiss: A political betrayal at the house of Oduduwa, by Idowu Faleye

When former Vice President Atiku Abubakar recently paid a political visit to former governor Rauf Aregbesola, many observers raised their eyebrows. At first glance, it might seem like an ordinary political alignment. After all, Nigerian politics has never been short of strange bedfellows. But on a closer look, this move is more than politics. It is a bitter cocktail of vengeance, a loud echo of inordinate ambition, and a dangerous dance of political betrayal in the house of Oduduwa.

Aregbesola is not just any politician. He is a man whose new political journey is deeply intertwined with the fortunes of the Yoruba race, the progressive movement, and most notably, the political machinery of Bola Ahmed Tinubu, now the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. For years, Aregbesola walked in Tinubu’s shadow, rose to power by Tinubu’s influence, and benefited immensely from the political empire that Tinubu laboured to build. It was Tinubu who gave Aregbesola his first major break, handed him the reins in Osun State, and stood by him during the turbulent legal battle that eventually made him governor. That political lifeline was not just a favour but a public endorsement that gave Aregbesola credibility and recognition.

But today, as Tinubu settles into his role as President and begins to chart a new path for Nigeria, Aregbesola is absent from the train of national progress and seems to be actively laying tracks in the opposite direction. His meeting with Atiku Abubakar—a man who represents the most prominent opposition to Tinubu’s leadership—is not just a slap; it is a calculated move laced with venom.

Let us not sugarcoat this: what Aregbesola is doing is more than a personal disagreement or political recalibration. It is betrayal, pure and simple. A betrayal not just of Tinubu, but of the Yoruba political consciousness that has always sought unity in the face of external opposition. Aregbesola’s actions reek of a man possessed by inordinate ambition, desperate to write his own story at any cost, even if it means tearing down the pages that helped shape him.

One might argue that political loyalty should not be eternal and that differences can arise. That is fair. But there is a big difference between disagreeing with your benefactor and working with his enemies to pull him down. Atiku is not just another politician; he is the symbol of an enduring political rivalry. He is the man who stood toe-to-toe against Yoruba interests in the last elections. For Aregbesola to now stretch his hands across the divide to Atiku is not just political realignment—it is treachery against the very platform that birthed him.

Those who are familiar with the history of Nigerian politics will understand the weight of this move. Aregbesola is not naive. He knows what he is doing. He understands the optics, and he has chosen this path not out of necessity but out of vengeance. His grievances with Tinubu, whatever they may be, have now transformed into a vendetta that risks squandering the political gains of the Yoruba people.

This is not the first time politics will test loyalty. But how one responds to that test is what defines legacy. Aregbesola has failed this test. Instead of maintaining a dignified silence or seeking reconciliation behind closed doors, he has thrown caution to the wind and danced naked in the market square with those who stand against his benefactor’s second term in office. He has opened his arms to the same opposition that sought to diminish the Southwest’s influence. This is not courage. It is political suicide masked as a strategy.

If Aregbesola believes that aligning with Atiku will secure him a new political future, then he has grossly miscalculated. Atiku may embrace him today, but the scars of betrayal never fade. Even the opposition knows that a man who betrays his own can never be trusted. They will use him, and when the time comes, they will discard him like a broken tool.

This is where the lesson of patience becomes critical. Power is not permanent. The corridors of influence are ever-shifting, and those who wait often find that time has a way of restoring order. If Aregbesola had chosen to wait, to reflect, to rebuild quietly, he might have found himself back in the centre of relevance. But no, he chose the path of vengeance, of unfiltered bitterness, of public humiliation.

And in doing so, he has not only hurt his political legacy but also endangered the fragile cohesion within Yoruba politics. At a time when the southwest needs to speak with one voice, Aregbesola has introduced discord. At a time when the Yoruba people need to rally behind one of their own who is finally at the helm of national leadership, he has chosen to side with those who wish to unseat him.

What is more painful is the timing. Tinubu is not just fighting for himself; he is fighting to prove that a southern presidency can work. He is battling economic, political, and social forces. His presidency is a test case for many who believe that the South cannot hold the centre. Instead of support, he faces sabotage from his own.

And this betrayal is not just a political affair. It is a cultural wound. The Yoruba people believe in Omoluabi—dignity, respect, and loyalty. Aregbesola has trampled on that code. He has mocked the value of gratitude and stabbed a legacy that once held him up. This is not how elders behave. This is not how history should be made.

We must not stay silent. We must remind Aregbesola and others who are watching that karma is never far. The seeds you sow today will become the forest you must walk through tomorrow. If you sow discord, you will reap isolation. If you trade loyalty for ambition, you will pay in regret.

There is still a chance to make things right. Aregbesola can retrace his steps. He can apologize, not just to Tinubu, but to the people whose hopes he is dashing. He can choose silence over sabotage. He can learn that power gained through treachery never lasts. But if he continues on this path, then history will remember him not as a great son of the Yoruba race, but as the man who chose self over service.

In the end, every politician must choose how they want to be remembered. Some are remembered for the bridges they built, others for the ones they burned. Aregbesola has a choice. And we, the people of Yorubaland, must have the courage to call him out while he still has the chance to choose rightly.

Let him remember this: the ladder you use to climb up is not just wood and nails—it is people, trust, and legacy. Kick it down today, and you may find yourself stranded tomorrow.

Our appeal is not from hatred but from hurt. Not from anger, but from concern. We are pained, deeply so, that one of our own has allowed bitterness to consume wisdom. We still believe in redemption, but that door does not stay open forever. Let the conscience of the Yoruba nation speak louder than ambition. Let loyalty not become a forgotten virtue. And may history be kind to those who choose the path of honour while it still matters.

Idowu Faleye is the founder and publisher of EphraimHill DataBlog, a platform committed to Data Journalism and Policy Analysis. With Public Administration and Data Analytics background, his articles offer research-driven insights into Politics, governance and Public Service delivery