In the ever-turbulent waters of Nigerian politics, where alliances shift like desert sands and ambitions flicker like distant stars, a fresh wave of speculation has gripped the nation's chattering classes. The name Goodluck Ebele Azikiwe Jonathan, once the helmsman of Nigeria's ship of state from 2010 to 2015, is once again being whispered in the corridors of power. Reports suggest that factions within the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP)—the very party that propelled him to the presidency— are actively courting him to throw his hat into the ring for the 2027 presidential election. This isn't mere gossip; it's a narrative that's gaining traction amid Nigeria's deepening fault lines of ethnicity, region, and governance woes.
Enter Gbadebo Rhodes-Vivour, the cerebral and unyielding Labour Party (LP) candidate who stormed the 2023 Lagos State governorship race like a gathering thunderstorm. Rhodes-Vivour, a scion of one of Lagos's most storied families, didn't just run; he embodied a clarion call for systemic change in Africa's most populous city and economic powerhouse. His campaign, marked by youthful vigor, intellectual heft, and a fierce critique of entrenched elitism, nearly upended the All Progressives Congress (APC) juggernaut led by Babajide Sanwo-Olu. Though he fell short—officially garnering about 26% of the vote in a contest marred by allegations of irregularities—Rhodes-Vivour's performance signaled a seismic shift. He galvanized urban youth, professionals, and the disillusioned middle class, turning Lagos into a microcosm of Nigeria's broader generational revolt against the old guard.
Now, in a candid interview with Punch newspaper, Rhodes-Vivour has waded into the Jonathan speculation, offering a nuanced take that blends optimism, skepticism, and cold political calculus. His words aren't just commentary; they're a window into the strategic chessboard of Nigerian politics, where zoning agreements, judicial shadows, and regional power plays dictate the game's tempo. "It is a major consideration because a lot of people feel it is the southerner's time to rule," Rhodes-Vivour remarked, his voice steady as he dissected the ethnic arithmetic that has long defined presidential contests. He pointed to the "eight years of a northern president who was extremely divisive"—a not-so-veiled nod to Muhammadu Buhari's tenure—and lamented how President Bola Ahmed Tinubu's arrival has only deepened those fissures. "Unfortunately, President Tinubu’s coming has been even more divisive and has literally created a government that does not reflect the Nigerian nation," he added.
But Rhodes-Vivour's endorsement of a southern resurgence comes with caveats, particularly when it comes to Jonathan. The former president, a soft-spoken zoologist from the Niger Delta who rose from deputy governor to the nation's top job, carries the weight of history. Northern backers, Rhodes-Vivour notes, are "very comfortable with his single term," viewing it as a palatable compromise in the north-south power rotation ritual. This positions Jonathan as "a force," a wildcard who could unify PDP factions fractured by Atiku Abubakar's repeated defeats. Yet, the LP firebrand isn't sold on Jonathan's viability. Citing the ex-leader's near-eight years in office (factoring in his vice-presidential stint) and the ritual of swearing the oath twice, Rhodes-Vivour questions whether the Supreme Court—Nigeria's ultimate electoral arbiter—would greenlight another run. "When you also consider the Supreme Court as it is today, I am not sure if he will get through, given the current setup of our judiciary," he concluded, his tone laced with the pragmatism of someone who's stared down the barrel of institutional resistance.
This exchange isn't isolated; it's a thread in the larger tapestry of Nigeria's pre-2027 jockeying. To unpack it fully, we must rewind the clock, tracing Jonathan's improbable ascent, his bittersweet legacy, and the PDP's desperate bid for revival. Only then can we appreciate why Rhodes-Vivour's words resonate like a tocsin, warning of pitfalls even as they illuminate pathways.
The Jonathan Enigma: From Humble Beginnings to Presidential Twilight
Goodluck Jonathan's story is the stuff of political fairy tales—or cautionary tales, depending on one's vantage. Born in 1957 in the riverside hamlet of Otuoke, Bayelsa State, to canoe-carving parents, Jonathan embodied the raw, unpolished grit of Nigeria's oil-soaked south-south. A PhD in hydrobiology and fisheries, he stumbled into politics as an environmental officer, only to rocket upward through sheer serendipity. In 1998, he became deputy governor of Bayelsa under Diepreye Alamieyeseigha, surviving the latter's impeachment in 2005 to ascend to the governorship. Then came the cosmic twist: the 2007 election of Umaru Yar'Adua as president, with Jonathan as his running mate. Yar'Adua's death in 2010 thrust Jonathan into the presidency, a man once mocked as "shoeless" now clutching the nuclear codes—or at least, the oil purse strings.
His first term was a whirlwind of ambition and adversity. Jonathan's administration poured billions into infrastructure—roads snaking through the delta, power plants flickering to life—and education, with initiatives like the Almajiri schools aimed at bridging north-south divides. Yet, it was marred by scandal: the $20 billion fuel subsidy scam that ignited Occupy Nigeria protests in 2012, Boko Haram's rampage unchecked, and a corruption index that plummeted Nigeria's global standing. Re-elected in 2011 amid cries of rigging, Jonathan's 2015 bid for a second full term ended in defeat to Buhari, a loss he famously conceded with grace, earning plaudits as a democrat. "No one’s ambition is worth the blood of any Nigerian," he declared, stepping aside to avoid post-election carnage.
Post-presidency, Jonathan retreated to a statesmanlike existence: mediating in West African coups, penning memoirs like My Story (2018), and founding the Goodluck Jonathan Foundation to champion peace and education. Whispers of a comeback surfaced sporadically— a 2019 flirtation with the African Democratic Congress, rumors of a 2023 third-party run—but each fizzled. Now, at 70, with PDP elders like Nyesom Wike and Atiku eyeing retirement or rivalry, the party sees Jonathan as a unifying elder. Reports from Premium Times and Sahara Reporters in late 2024 detailed PDP Northern Caucus meetings in Abuja, where delegates implored Jonathan to "rescue the party from internal hemorrhage." A source close to the matter told Vanguard that "Jonathan's single-term pledge could assuage southern egos while locking in northern votes," echoing Rhodes-Vivour's observation.
Rhodes-Vivour: The Lagos Maverick and His Enduring Quest
To grasp Rhodes-Vivour's perspective, one must understand the man. At 44, he's a polymath: architect by training (Harvard Master's in Urban Planning), tech entrepreneur, and activist whose veins pulse with Lagos royalty—descended from Herbert Macaulay and Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti. His 2023 gubernatorial bid wasn't a lark; it was a manifesto against "godfatherism," inequality, and the APC's stranglehold on Lagos since 1999. Campaigning under the LP banner—riding the Peter Obi wave that nearly toppled APC nationally—Rhodes-Vivour promised free education, rent controls, and a "Lagos for all," not just the elite. His rallies drew tens of thousands, blending Afrobeats anthems with policy wonkery on urban decay.
The election night was bitter: INEC declared Sanwo-Olu winner with 1.5 million votes to Rhodes-Vivour's 400,000-plus, but the latter cried foul, alleging vote suppression in strongholds like Eti-Osa. Petitions dragged through tribunals, culminating in a Supreme Court rejection in October 2023. Undeterred, Rhodes-Vivour pivoted to civic activism, founding the "Our Lagos" movement to push for electoral reforms. His Punch interview, conducted amid this, reveals a mind honed by loss: analytical, forward-looking, yet scarred by the judiciary's caprice. When he invokes Tinubu's "divisive" government—a cabinet bloated with Yoruba kin, sidelining Igbos and northern minorities—he speaks from the frontlines of Lagos, where Igbo traders face evictions and northern migrants endure profiling.
Rhodes-Vivour's doubt on Jonathan isn't personal animus; it's rooted in the "gentleman's agreement" of zoning. Since 1999, the presidency has alternated: Obasanjo (South, 8 years), Yar'Adua/Jonathan (North/South, 6 years), Jonathan (South, 5 years), Buhari (North, 8 years). With Tinubu (Southwest) in since 2023, 2027 screams "North's turn" to many, especially after Buhari's polarizing rule fueled secessionist murmurs in the southeast. Yet, Jonathan's southern Ijaw roots complicate this—his backers frame him as a "one-and-done" bridge, per Rhodes-Vivour. The northern comfort with this? It's tactical: a Jonathan win caps southern dominance at nine years total, preserving rotation's sanctity.
The PDP's Wooing Game: Desperation or Strategy?
The PDP's overtures to Jonathan aren't born in vacuum; they're a party's Hail Mary. Once Nigeria's dominant force, PDP has hemorrhaged since 2015: internal wars between Atiku's camp and Wike's riverside fiefdom splintered it, Obi’s 2023 defection birthed LP's surge, and APC's incumbency machine looms large. PDP's 2023 presidential tally—Atiku's 29%—was a rout, exposing fractures. Enter Jonathan: his 2015 concession burnished his image as a "reluctant hero," contrasting Atiku's perennial ambition. PDP governors like Bala Mohammed (Bauchi) and Ahmadu Fintiri (Adamawa) have publicly touted him, with Daily Trust reporting a "Jonathan Draft Committee" forming in Kaduna.
Pro-Jonathan voices argue his track record—averting oil militancy via amnesty, boosting GDP to Africa's largest—outshines rivals. Critics, though, dredge up ghosts: the Chibok abductions (276 girls snatched in 2014, symbolizing insecurity), the $2.2 billion arms deal probe, and economic woes like 23% unemployment. Rhodes-Vivour sidesteps these, focusing on optics: Jonathan's "six and a half years" (VP from 2007-2010, President 2010-2015) blurs into "almost eight," invoking constitutional fatigue. Article 137 of the 1999 Constitution bars a third term, but Jonathan's partial terms invite legal jousting—much like the Obama/Clinton debates in the US.
The judicial shadow looms largest. Nigeria's Supreme Court, packed with Tinubu appointees post-2023, has a track record of upholding APC victories: dismissing Obi's 2023 petition on technicalities, affirming Sanwo-Olu. Rhodes-Vivour's quip—"given the current setup of our judiciary"—isn't hyperbole; it's a nod to the 2020 Electoral Act amendments that tightened rules, often favoring incumbents. If Jonathan runs and wins primaries, expect preemptive strikes: APC could challenge eligibility, citing oath-swearing precedents from the US (22nd Amendment analogies).
Broader Stakes: Ethnicity, Division, and the Southern Imperative
Rhodes-Vivour's lament on divisiveness cuts deep. Buhari's era (2015-2023) was a masterclass in polarization: lopsided appointments (70% northerners in security roles), farmer-herder clashes killing thousands, and IPOB's proscription fueling Biafran revivalism. Tinubu, a Yoruba titan whose 2023 win hinged on southwest solidarity, has doubled down: his "Renewed Hope" cabinet features 60% Yoruba/Yoruba-adjacent ministers, per BudgIT analysis, alienating Igbos (just one minister) and northern Muslims amid soaring inflation (34% in 2024). This "government that does not reflect the Nigerian nation," as Rhodes-Vivour puts it, echoes Obasanjo's 1999-2007 inclusivity, now inverted.
For the South, 2027 is existential. Southeast leaders like Ohanaeze Ndigbo demand their "turn," citing marginalization— no Igbo president since 1966's brief Aguiyi-Ironsi. Delta's Jonathan could salve this, but his Ijaw identity irks some. LP's Obi, still a 2023 juggernaut, eyes a rematch, potentially splitting southern votes. APC's north (perhaps Yahaya Bello or Nasir El-Rufai) salivates at the disarray.
Yet, Jonathan's "force" status, per Rhodes-Vivour, stems from intangibles: his everyman charm, global goodwill (he keynoted UN events), and single-term vow, which northern elites like El-Rufai have praised as "selfless." If he enters, it could heal PDP's north-south rift, drawing back Obi's "Obidient" diaspora. Risks? Plenty. A loss tarnishes his elder statesman sheen; a win invites revenge from Tinubu's machine, which spent ₦500 billion on 2023 logistics, per THISDAY.
Counterpoints and What-Ifs: The Political Oracle
Skeptics abound. Atiku, PDP's perennial alpha, dismissed Jonathan rumors in a July 2025 Arise TV interview: "I'm still fit; the north needs a fighter, not a philosopher." Wike, now FCT minister but PDP loyalist at heart, hedges: "Jonathan is respected, but primaries will decide." Analysts like Ezenwa Nwagwu of Saysel Intellectuals argue Jonathan's age (70 in 2027) and health rumors disqualify him, favoring younger blood like Soludo or Ifeanyi Okowa.
What if he runs? Scenarios diverge. Bullish: PDP unifies, Jonathan edges APC in a low-turnout poll (Nigerians' 27% 2023 participation aids machines). Bearish: Court blocks him, PDP implodes, LP/Obi sweeps urban centers. Rhodes-Vivour's judiciary doubt tilts bearish—recall the 2023 rulings that ignored voter suppression evidence.
Beyond elites, grassroots pulse with apathy. Youth, 70% of voters, crave jobs over zoning; #EndSARS scars linger. Women, per Yiaga Africa, demand 35% slots, unfulfilled since Jonathan's era. Climate, too: his delta roots spotlight flooding, with 2024 Lagos deluges displacing 500,000— a Rhodes-Vivour rallying cry.
Rhodes-Vivour's Vision: Beyond Jonathan to a New Nigeria
In wrapping his thoughts, Rhodes-Vivour pivots to hope: "That said, it is still time for the South." His interview isn't defeatist; it's a blueprint. As LP's Lagos standard-bearer, he eyes 2027 senatorial runs or national planks, fusing urban planning with anti-corruption. "Whether he comes out or not will be an entirely different topic because he has a lot to lose if he does not win," he warns Jonathan— a reminder that politics devours the hesitant.
Nigeria's 2027 crossroads demand more than nostalgia. Jonathan's potential return evokes 2010's promise, but Rhodes-Vivour urges reckoning: heal divisions, diversify beyond oil (Jonathan boosted non-oil GDP to 9%), reform judiciary via #EndSARS demands. As speculation simmers—PDP convention looms in 2026— one truth endures: in Nigeria, power isn't seized; it's negotiated amid shadows.
This isn't just news; it's a prelude to thunder. Will Jonathan heed the call, or fade into Bayelsa's mists? Rhodes-Vivour, ever the sentinel, watches, ready to steer Lagos—and perhaps Nigeria—toward dawn.
