In the past few weeks, the political landscape in Nigeria has been dominated by a specific ritual: the conduct of primary elections. As the All Progressives Congress (APC) fine-tunes its machinery for the upcoming off-cycle elections across Nigeria, the buzzword echoing from party secretariats to the Presidential Villa has been ‘consensus’. We hear it constantly: ‘The party has adopted a consensus arrangement.’
On the surface, this sounds noble. Very noble. It suggests unity, the absence of rancour, and the collective will of the party faithful. But in reality, this is far from the truth. It is a cocktail of arm-twisting, bribery and manipulative politics.
In medicine, where the stakes are life and death, consensus is the gold standard. It is an arduous, transparent, and data-driven process. When a doctor suspects a complex illness, they do not rely on the loudest voice in the room or the opinion of a single ‘party leader.’ Instead, they convene a tumour board or a peer review. In modern medicine, consensus is reached through a rigorous methodology, often the Delphi method or the National Institutes of Health (NIH) consensus statement process.
Here is what that looks like: A panel of independent experts reviews anonymous data. There is no intimidation. People argue, they present evidence, they look at the differential diagnoses, and only when 80 per cent or 90 per cent of the panel agrees on the best course of action is a consensus declared.
Now, let’s compare this with the APC’s consensus that we have witnessed in the past few weeks. What we are witnessing in this APC’s party’s version of consensus is merely a euphemism for ‘imposition’.
In the medical sense, consensus is the result of debate. In the political sense we are witnessing, consensus is the absence of debate. We see a situation where a party leader picks a candidate, drops their name, and then asks all other aspirants to step down for ‘the sake of unity.’ When they refuse, they are penalised. When they accept, they are given a pat on the back, bastard money and a political appointment.
This is not a consensus; it is coercion. Medically, this would be akin to a surgeon deciding to amputate a leg because the patient is too noisy, without ordering an X-ray or seeking a second opinion. The patient might survive, but they will be permanently limping.
The danger of this political malpractice is that it ignores the ‘underlying condition.’ In medicine, if you treat a fever with paracetamol without diagnosing malaria, the patient crashes. In politics, if you build a consensus by eliminating the popular candidate (the one the grassroots actually wants) and impose a party favourite, you win the primary but lose the general election. You have treated the symptom (internal party squabbling) while ignoring the disease (lack of electability).
There is a reason the Hippocratic Oath demands ‘First, do no harm.’ A false consensus in politics does tremendous harm.
First, it kills internal democracy. When aspirants realise that the primary is merely a stage-managed endorsement of a pre-selected candidate, the best minds go elsewhere. Why would a brilliant technocrat risk their fortune and reputation in a process where the winner is decided by a ‘consensus’ text message from the national headquarters? We end up with a bench of loyalists, not leaders.
Second, it breeds apathy. The average Nigerian voter is not stupid. When they see a candidate who won via ‘voice vote’ or ‘handshake’ without a real ballot, they know the game is rigged. This disenfranchisement leads to low voter turnout. We saw this in the 2023 general elections, where, despite the fervour, many simply stayed home, believing the consensus had already been signed in Abuja.
Finally, it creates a governance deficit. A leader who ascends via forced consensus owes their loyalty not to the people, but to the kingmakers. Consequently, their decisions in office reflect this debt. Instead of healthcare reforms that benefit the masses, we get contracts that benefit the few who clapped the loudest at the primary.
Does this mean consensus has no place in politics? Absolutely not. The APC’s leadership, including President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, has historically used consensus effectively, specifically in the build-up to the 2023 elections when the ‘Zoning’ arrangement was largely respected. That was a macro-consensus based on equity and data (demographics).
What we need is a return to the medical standard. Consensus should be the last step, not the first. The party should hold a transparent primary (the ‘diagnostic test’). Let the aspirants measure their popularity. If, after the results are in, the second and third place aspirants voluntarily decide to step down for the winner to save resources, that is genuine consensus.
But declaring a consensus before the test is like a doctor prescribing chemo before the biopsy. You might just kill the patient.
The APC has a chance to set a precedent in the upcoming elections. Let the delegates vote. Let there be arguments and bruised egos. Let the journalists report on a real contest. That friction is not a crisis; it is the sound of a healthy democracy breathing.
As we watch the political dramas unfold, let us hold our leaders to the same standard we hold our physicians: We do not want a quiet, comfortable lie. We want a difficult, transparent truth. In medicine, consensus cures. In politics, as the APC is practising it, consensus merely covers up the wound. And we all know what happens to a covered wound: it continues to rot.