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Rejoinder: Why “Structure and Capital” Alone Cannot Explain Peter Obi’s Political Rise—or Limit His Future.

We dismantle the argument of Adeyinka A. Adebayo (in his Now let’s visit Peter Obi... Are you ready? Let's go..), point by point, without romanticism, without denial of reality, and without surrendering to fatalism.
The argument he has presented is seductive in its apparent realism. It clothes political conservatism in the language of “logistics,” “war,” and “capital,” implying that Nigerian democracy is an immutable marketplace where only the best-funded machines can prevail. But beneath this veneer of pragmatism lies a dangerous misreading of both history and the present moment.

To put it succinctly, Peter Obi is not politically relevant despite lacking traditional machinery, he is relevant because he disrupted it.
To reduce his movement to “vibes” is to misunderstand what happened in 2023, and why it still matters.

1. The False Gospel of “Money Determines Everything”
Yes, elections require resources. No serious actor denies this, but to argue that capital is the primary determinant is historically false. If money were decisive, Atiku Abubakar would already be president, several governors with vast war chests would never have lost elections and political upsets would not exist.


Yet they do, frequently.
Money amplifies political energy, it does not create it.

In 2023, Obi ran the most cost-efficient national campaign in Nigerian history. He mobilised millions without state treasuries, godfathers, or oil money. That is not weakness, it is proof of political innovation.
What frightens the establishment is not that Obi lacks money, it is that he showed money is no longer sovereign.

2. “Supply Chains” Without Moral Authority Are Hollow
Calling elections “logistical wars” is fashionable cynicism. But logistics without legitimacy collapse.
You may hire 176,000 agents, armies of lawyers and fleets of vehicles, yet if voters believe you represent corruption, stagnation, or elite recycling, that structure becomes brittle.
If we take a look at global politics, Donald Trump did not rise because of party machinery, and Barack Obama did not begin with donors, nor did Emmanuel Macron did inherit structures.


They built movements first, infrastructure then followed.
Obi did the same.
A structure that grows organically is more resilient than one rented for elections.

3. Tinubu’s “Depth” Is Also His Burden
Yes, Bola Ahmed Tinubu commands networks. No one disputes this.
But networks age, machines decay and patronage exhausts itself.
What is called “structural depth” is often accumulated political debt. Today, that debt is being paid in inflation, currency collapse, youth unemployment, and social discontent.


Political machines survive only while resources flow. When legitimacy dries up, structure becomes liability.

History has repeatedly shown this.

4. The Misreading of “Hardship Politics”
The claim that “hardship does not dethrone incumbents” is empirically wrong.
Hardship dethrones incumbents when it is persistent, personalised, and perceived as unjust.


Nigeria is approaching that threshold.

When citizens cannot afford food, fuel, school fees, or rent, politics stops being abstract. It becomes existential. At that point, “logistics” meets rage, and rage is the most powerful mobiliser in politics.

5. Party Pathways Are Not the Primary Battlefield
The obsession with ADC vs Labour Party misunderstands Obi’s political identity.
Obi is not primarily a party politician, he is a political symbol. His support base is ideological, generational, and civic.
Parties will orbit him, not the other way round.
This reverses traditional Nigerian politics, and that reversal is precisely why elites are uncomfortable.

6. “Donors in Kano and Gombe” Already Exist, They’re Just Not Oligarchs
The argument assumes that “real money” only comes from regional kingmakers.
Dead wrong.
Obi’s base is funded by diaspora professionals, SMEs, Tech workers, traders, doctors, teachers, and civil servants.


Thousands of small donors outperform a few godfathers. It is how modern campaigns work; slow, messy and democratic. And it scales.

7. The Trump Comparison Backfires
Trump returned because he captured a permanent social grievance.
So did Obi.
Both represent revolt against political establishments. But unlike Trump, Obi’s movement is younger, more educated, less violent, and more policy-driven.


That makes it more durable.

8. “Politics Is Not Therapy”, But It Is Legitimacy Management
Yes, politics is not therapy. Neither is it pure warfare, it is the management of collective consent.
Once consent collapses, no amount of money saves you.
The Soviet Union, Apartheid and Arab dictators had structure.

They all fell when legitimacy vanished.

9. The Real Fear Behind This Argument
If we are honest, this argument is not analysis, it is anxiety.
It reflects elite fear that; politics is slipping out of their control, voters are becoming autonomous, and money is losing monopoly power.


So they chant: “Structure. Capital. Structure. Capital.”
It is a chant meant to discourage insurgent politics.

10. Obi’s Real Advantage: Time and Demography
Obi’s base is young, Tinubu’s base is aging, and Time favours Obi.

Every year, new first-time voters enter, old patronage voters exit, digital mobilisation expands, and civic consciousness grows.


This is not sentiment, it is demography.

Conclusion: The New Equation of Nigerian Politics
The old model: Money. Structure. Victory
The emerging model: Credibility. Movement. Resources. Victory
Obi already owns the first two, the third will follow.
Not because of vibes but because credibility compounds.

Final Word
Peter Obi does not need to become a replica of old Nigerian politicians to win. If he does, he will lose. His strength lies precisely in refusing that template.
Those telling Nigerians that only oligarch-funded machines can win are not being realistic. They are defending a dying order.

And history is not on their side.

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On Tuesday, 17 February 2026, Vinicius Jr said “racists are cowards” after he was allegedly abused during Real Madrid’s Champions League play-off first leg against Benfica, which was held up for 11 minutes over reported racist remarks.

Football pundit Kate Scott in her statement did not merely deliver a broadcast reflection; she issued a moral indictment of football’s governing culture, exposing, with clarity and restraint, how racism in the sport is sustained not only by perpetrators on the pitch, but by institutions and influential figures who enable, relativise, or trivialise it.

At its core, her argument is simple and devastating; racism in football persists because it is still negotiable. It is debated, contextualised, excused, and softened, rarely confronted with the full moral force it deserves.

Both FIFA and UEFA stand exposed by this episode, not as passive observers, but as long-term architects of institutional complacency.

For decades, these bodies have promoted “zero tolerance” rhetorically while practising minimal enforcement structurally. Their disciplinary regimes remain timid, inconsistent, and largely symbolic; token fines that clubs easily absorb, partial stadium closures that inconvenience fans, not offenders, investigations that drag on until public outrage fades, and policies that emphasise “process” over justice

This is not neutrality, it is complicity.

When players such as Vinícius Júnior and Kylian Mbappé report repeated racial abuse, they are not presenting a “dispute.” They are submitting testimony from the frontlines of discrimination. The fact that such claims are routinely subjected to excessive scepticism reveals an institutional bias toward preserving comfort rather than confronting injustice.

More damning still is the leadership structure of global football. The persistent lack of Black and minority representation in executive decision-making is not accidental, it is systemic. When those who suffer racism are excluded from the rooms where policy is made, protection becomes optional.

FIFA and UEFA cannot continue to posture as moral authorities while presiding over governance systems that fail the most vulnerable participants in the game.

They are not failing for lack of knowledge, they are failing for lack of courage.

The intervention of José Mourinho represents a different, but equally corrosive, failure; the moral recklessness of influence.

By reframing the incident around “provocation,” Mourinho effectively shifted responsibility away from alleged racist behaviour and onto the victim. This is a classic tactic of injustice systems; when confronted with wrongdoing, interrogate the victim’s conduct instead of the perpetrator’s.

The implication, subtle but unmistakable, was that Vinícius Jr.’s style, personality, or competitiveness somehow invited abuse.

This is ethically indefensible.

No behaviour on a football pitch justifies racial humiliation. None, not celebration, not confidence, not defiance, and certainly not excellence.

When a figure of Mourinho’s stature promotes such framing, he does more than express a personal opinion. He legitimises prejudice for millions of fans, players, and commentators. He tells them: “Racism is understandable, if the target is irritating enough.”

That narrative is not merely wrong, it is dangerous.

It teaches perpetrators that their actions are contextual, that their suffering is conditional and teaches institutions that accountability is negotiable.

Kate Scott’s statement exposes one of football’s most enduring injustices; the demand that Black players absorb abuse silently and respond only with performance.

“Rise above it.”
“Let your football do the talking.”
“Don’t be distracted.”

These phrases are not encouragement. They are instruments of suppression.

They relocate responsibility from institutions to individuals, normalise suffering as part of professionalism, and convert resilience into obligation.

From Cyril Regis to John Barnes to today’s stars, Black players have been expected to be simultaneously exceptional and silent. Their success is celebrated; their pain is managed.

This is not progress. It is exploitation refined.

Football markets itself as the world’s most inclusive cultural platform. Champions League broadcasts showcase global diversity. Anti-racism banners are unfurled. Campaign slogans circulate.

Yet when racism erupts in real time, the response is procedural, legalistic, and emotionally sterile.

The contradiction is stark; diversity is profitable while justice is inconvenient.
So diversity is advertised but justice is postponed.

Until FIFA and UEFA are willing to impose penalties that genuinely threaten reputations, revenues, and careers, their campaigns will remain performative.

To FIFA and UEFA:
Your failure is structural. You have had decades, resources, and authority. What you lack is moral resolve. Until racism carries consequences comparable to financial misconduct or match-fixing, you are not serious about eradicating it. You are managing it.

To José Mourinho:
Your words carry weight. With that weight comes responsibility. By questioning the victim rather than condemning the abuse, you aligned yourself, consciously or not, with the machinery of discrimination. Great managers are judged not only by trophies, but by their ethical leadership. On this occasion, you failed that test.

To Football Itself:
You cannot continue to celebrate global belonging while tolerating racial exclusion. You cannot preach unity while permitting humiliation. You cannot call yourself “the world’s game” while treating some players as more disposable than others.

In conclusion, Kate Scott’s closing assertion is the most important truth in her statement; football’s diversity is not an accessory, it is its essence.

The game belongs to Lagos and London, São Paulo and Paris, Accra and Amsterdam. Its beauty lies in that shared belonging.

Anyone, administrator, coach, fan, or official, who diminishes that belonging through racism, relativism, or silence is betraying the sport itself.

This moment demands more than statements.
More than investigations.
More than symbolic gestures.

It demands institutional courage.

Until FIFA, UEFA, and football’s most powerful figures embrace that courage, racism will remain not an aberration, but a tolerated feature of the game.