In the unpredictable theatre of Nigerian politics, some ideas arrive on the public stage like an unexpected plot twist. Others feel more like a rerun of a tired soap opera. The recent whispers, and in some corners, loud choruses, especially within the ranks of depleted and desperate PDP, about a possible Goodluck Jonathan comeback fall into the latter category. For those with even the faintest memory of 2015, it’s almost a parody: the man who was politely shown the exit door for “cluelessness” now being courted as a potential national saviour.
Only in Nigeria does political amnesia wear a well-embroidered agbada. Having once escorted Goodluck Jonathan out of Aso Rock for “cluelessness,” the same political class now flirts with bringing him back, as though the cure for a migraine is to bang your head on the same wall, but harder. Is this wooing, a romantic belief that time away from Aso Rock has refined Jonathan into the leader Nigerians didn’t know they needed? Or baiting, a calculated ploy to slip a pliable figurehead into a turbulent game? Either way, it’s a masterclass in recycling, not of waste, but of worn-out leadership.
Goodluck Ebele Jonathan’s presidency, from 2010 to 2015, was as improbable as it was emblematic of Nigeria’s political contradictions. A quiet academic-turned-politician from Otuoke in Bayelsa State, Jonathan climbed the ladder not through political firepower but through a sequence of vacancies and constitutional technicalities. When fate handed him the top job, he projected a calm, almost professorial demeanour that contrasted sharply with the aggressive posturing of the political class.
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However, his tenure quickly became a lightning rod for criticism. The term “clueless,” once muttered in political gossip, became a national meme after his perceived indecisiveness in handling Boko Haram insurgency, corruption scandals, and fuel subsidy protests, the same way he dithered in implementing recommendations of the 2014 national conference that could have, perhaps, corrected some of the ills in the country. His critics argued that Jonathan was more of a caretaker than a captain, content to let the ship of state drift in stormy waters. Supporters countered that he was a victim of entrenched systems and northern political machinations.
In 2015, the electorate, or more accurately, a coalition of restless voters and well-organised opposition, decided they had seen enough. Jonathan became the first sitting Nigerian president to be unseated through the ballot box, conceding gracefully to Muhammadu Buhari.
Fast forward to the present, and we are again discussing Jonathan as though history is a buffet and Nigerians can pick yesterday’s meals for today’s dinner. This is not an isolated incident. Nigeria’s political landscape thrives on recycling leaders, governors return as senators, senators as ministers, ministers as governors again. In some cases, military rulers from the 1980s resurface as democratic presidents decades later.
Why this obsession with the past? Partly because the political class is a closed circuit, power rarely leaves the same small circle of faces. And partly because recycling offers convenience: known quantities are easier to market to a weary electorate than untested reformers who might disrupt entrenched interests.
Jonathan’s sudden reappearance in the rumour mill is thus not surprising. He has the political equivalent of a “neutral” brand, not beloved enough to terrify entrenched powers, not hated enough to rally massive resistance.
Those in the “wooing” camp argue that Jonathan has matured politically in his years away from Aso Rock. He has taken on international assignments, worked as an election observer across Africa, and gained a certain elder statesman aura. The theory is that he would return chastened, wiser, and less naïve about the treacherous waters of Nigerian politics.
Some point to his concession speech in 2015, unprecedented in Nigeria’s democratic history, as proof of his commitment to peace and democracy. They claim that, in a polarised and unstable moment, Jonathan could serve as a unifying, transitional figure, cooling the temperature ahead of a more radical restructuring.
The “baiting” theory is less charitable. It sees Jonathan’s possible return as a calculated move by political heavyweights to insert a pliable figurehead into the presidency. Under Nigeria’s constitutional rules, Jonathan could only serve a single term if re-elected, making him the perfect transitional placeholder for the North.
In this reading, his presidency would be a holding pattern, enough to keep the peace without threatening entrenched networks. His calm demeanour, once mocked as indecisive, would now be rebranded as “consultative leadership” while real power flowed through back channels.
But there’s another layer to this wooing, one that should make Jonathan pause before he accepts any invitation to dance. Multiple political watchers believe the push for his return is being fueled by certain northern political blocs, who are dissatisfied with Bola Tinubu’s presidency. In their calculus, Jonathan is the perfect pawn.
The risk for Jonathan is clear: he could walk into Aso Rock not as a statesman returning to complete unfinished business, but as a caretaker, a decorative proxy while the real political chess is played behind the curtains. The same forces that cheered him back could just as quickly discard him when his utility expires.
And history has shown, from Tafawa Balewa to Shehu Shagari, that northern political machinery can be both fiercely loyal to its goals and ruthlessly pragmatic with its allies. Jonathan may find that the applause greeting his comeback bid is less about his personal redemption and more about someone else’s long-term play.
The irony, of course, is thick enough to spread on toast. The very “cluelessness” used as a battering ram in 2015 is now being rebranded as an asset. In a political climate where overconfidence often leads to dangerous brinkmanship, Jonathan’s softer style could be spun as a stabilising force. But does Nigeria need a pacifier or a problem-solver?
The danger in romanticising his return is that it sidesteps the deeper issue. Nigeria’s governance crisis is not merely about the occupant of Aso Rock, but about the structure, incentives, and accountability systems in place. A recycled Jonathan would still be navigating the same minefield of vested interests, regional rivalries, and institutional decay.
For the average Nigerian voter, the prospect of a Jonathan comeback invites cognitive dissonance. On one hand, the Buhari years have left many disillusioned enough to consider almost any alternative. On the other hand, memories of fuel scarcity queues, subsidy protests, and security lapses are not so distant as to fade entirely.
This is where political strategists thrive: they bank on the fact that nostalgia often outpaces memory. In times of crisis, voters can be persuaded that the past was “not so bad,” especially when the present feels worse.
Nigeria’s choice, ultimately, is not between Jonathan and someone else. It is between recycling the familiar and investing in renewal. Recycling offers short-term stability, predictability, and a low learning curve. Renewal is riskier; it requires grooming new leaders, overhauling party structures, and confronting entrenched corruption.
The tragedy is that renewal rarely wins in Nigerian politics because the machinery for producing fresh, credible candidates is almost non-existent. Political parties function more as electoral platforms for elite bargaining than as incubators of policy-driven leadership.
If Jonathan is wooed back into the race and accepts, it would not be the first time Nigeria tried to solve a crisis by rewinding the clock. But as history shows, the past rarely repeats itself in ways that benefit those who summon it. The world has changed since 2015. The economy is more fragile, security threats more fragmented, and the electorate more digitally aware.
Bringing back Jonathan could, at best, offer a brief respite if any, a familiar lull in the storm. At worst, it could confirm to a restless youth demographic that Nigerian politics is little more than an elite merry-go-round, spinning endlessly with the same tired riders.
So, wooing or baiting? The truth is, it may be both. For those nostalgic for a gentler political tone, Jonathan’s return could feel like a balm. For those pulling the strings, it could be a strategic masterstroke to buy time and preserve influence. But for a country yearning for real change, the spectacle of recalling a leader once dismissed for cluelessness might be less about hope and more about the political class having run out of imagination.
In the end, the real question is not whether Goodluck Jonathan has changed. It’s whether Nigeria has.
The post Nigeria à la Jonathan: Wooing or baiting cluelessness? appeared first on The Sun Nigeria.
