In recent times, one phrase has captured the attention of Nigerian politics with an almost hypnotic appeal: “Rainbow Coalition.” The name immediately evokes Nyesom Wike, its most vocal advocate and self-proclaimed architect. But what does it mean? Is it political genius, strategic reinvention, or simply old wine poured into a dazzling new bottle?
The term is not Wike’s invention. Rather, he is adapting an established political metaphor to a distinctly Nigerian purpose: mobilising politicians across party lines to support President Bola Tinubu’s re-election in 2027 without requiring them to join the All Progressives Congress (APC). It is a coalition of different political colours united by a common presidential objective without necessarily surrendering their identities.
A rainbow offers a compelling metaphor because its colours remain distinct yet form a beautiful whole. Similarly, coalition theory explains how political actors with different interests can cooperate when a common objective outweighs their differences. Wike’s proposition is straightforward: a politician can remain in the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), Labour Party, APGA or another opposition party while supporting Tinubu for president. They can disagree over governorships and legislative seats yet converge on the presidency. In essence, they retain their party jerseys while playing for the same presidential team.
The idea has a remarkable history. In 1969, Fred Hampton of the Black Panther Party helped build the original Rainbow Coalition in Chicago, bringing together Black activists, the Puerto Rican Young Lords and poor white Young Patriots around shared struggles against poverty and exclusion. Jesse Jackson later popularised the concept nationally during his 1984 presidential campaign, mobilising diverse racial and social groups around political inclusion. His National Rainbow Coalition eventually became Rainbow PUSH in 1996. While Hampton and Jackson built their coalitions around social justice and inclusion, Wike’s adaptation centres on consolidating presidential support from above rather than mobilising marginalised groups from below.
Wike has presented his version as a political arrangement under the Renewed Hope umbrella, insisting that it is not intended to destroy the APC but to expand support for Tinubu beyond its membership. His argument challenges conventional assumptions about party loyalty: supporting a president need not mean abandoning one’s political party. While some APC leaders believe presidential loyalty should translate into party membership, Wike’s approach suggests that politicians can support Tinubu nationally while competing against APC candidates locally.
The attraction becomes clearer when examined against Nigeria’s political history. In 1979, the National Party of Nigeria (NPN) formed an alliance with the Nigerian People’s Party (NPP) to facilitate governance despite their separate identities. In 2015, however, the APC’s internal divisions produced a different outcome. Although the party won the presidency and secured 60 of the Senate’s 109 seats, its preferred candidates for National Assembly leadership faced resistance. Bukola Saraki, backed by a faction of APC senators and PDP lawmakers, defeated the party’s preferred candidate, Ahmed Lawan, to become Senate President, while Ike Ekweremadu of the PDP became Deputy Senate President. In the House of Representatives, Yakubu Dogara similarly defeated Femi Gbajabiamila with opposition support.
These episodes demonstrate that cross-party alliances are not new. However, their objectives matter. In 2015, opposition votes helped APC legislators defeat their party’s preferred candidates, generating mistrust and accusations of anti-party activities. The proposed Rainbow Coalition reverses that immediate political direction: opposition politicians would use their existing party structures to support the ruling party’s presidential candidate. Both arrangements demonstrate the flexibility of political alliances, but they differ in purpose and the direction in which their support flows.
Wike’s own G5 rebellion against Atiku Abubakar in 2022–2023 provided another rehearsal. Wike and four other PDP governors refused to support their party’s presidential candidate, citing the need for fairness and power rotation. Their actions weakened the PDP’s presidential campaign without requiring them to abandon the party. Political scientist Eghosa Osaghae’s analysis of Nigerian politics helps explain this behaviour: parties frequently function more as electoral vehicles than as ideological homes. Wike’s current strategy builds upon that established tendency.
The arrangement may also appeal to opposition politicians who possess strong regional structures but have little incentive to defect formally to the APC. Joining the ruling party could expose them to internal supremacy battles, local resentment and the loss of political independence. Supporting Tinubu without joining the APC offers an alternative: cooperation at the federal level alongside competition within their states. This resembles strategic alignment, in which political actors cooperate with a dominant force without being absorbed into it.
Other developments reinforce this trend. In Niger State, former governor Babangida Aliyu has expressed support for Governor Mohammed Bago and Tinubu, notwithstanding his longstanding PDP identity. Similarly, Bukola Saraki has argued for southern continuity in the presidency, although his position should not automatically be equated with membership of Wike’s coalition. Such examples illustrate how regional considerations, perceptions of fairness and personal political calculations can transcend formal party boundaries.
Ordinary Nigerians also practise a form of rainbow politics. Some support an APC governor but oppose Tinubu, while others prefer Tinubu but dislike their state’s APC administration. Their choices reflect candidate preference rather than automatic party loyalty. The coalition’s appeal therefore extends beyond political elites to a broader electorate increasingly willing to separate national and local voting decisions.
Supporters interpret the Rainbow Coalition as evidence of Tinubu’s capacity to attract political allies across party lines. Critics see opportunism, transactional politics and an arrangement designed to preserve personal interests. Both interpretations contain elements of truth. Where parties lack strong ideological distinctions, alliances often revolve around access to power, electoral calculations and political survival rather than shared programmes.
Nevertheless, the contrast between the APC’s 2013 merger and Wike’s proposed coalition is significant. The merger brought different political parties together under a new identity to challenge the PDP in 2015. The Rainbow Coalition, by contrast, seeks cooperation without formal consolidation. Its strength lies in reducing the political cost of supporting a common candidate; its weakness is the absence of a shared identity and clearly defined institutional rules.
The survival of rainbow coalition will depend on three questions: Will APC leaders tolerate a parallel political structure they cannot fully control? Can coalition members support Tinubu while fiercely contesting governorships and legislative seats against one another? And will the arrangement dissolve after the 2027 election or develop into a lasting feature of Nigerian politics?
Wike may not have invented the rainbow, but he has adapted its symbolism to Nigeria’s political realities. The coalition reflects a system in which politicians increasingly treat party affiliation as a platform for negotiation rather than an enduring ideological commitment. It offers unity without uniformity, cooperation without merger, and presidential loyalty without compulsory party defection.
Lastly, whether this represents a more sophisticated form of transactional politics remains an open question. However, the Rainbow Coalition may be less Wike’s invention or innovation than Nigeria’s confession that we have stopped believing in parties as articles of faith and have started treating them as platforms of convenience, where a man can be PDP by card, APC by presidential preference, and purely himself by ambition. It is thrilling, it is troubling, and it may just be the most honest mirror of who we have become.
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Bagudu Mohammed is the founder of Alternative Perspectives, a widely read commentary platform on social media. It offers evidence-based analysis and real-life insights as a credible alternative to groupthink, convenient narratives, and echo chambers. The platform explores a wide range of issues, including politics, society, relationships, governance, and contemporary trends.
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