Fire and Ice: The Political Unraveling of El-Rufai and Ribadu
Editor’s note: In this piece, political analyst Oluwafemi Popoola traces how El-Rufai and Ribadu’s friendship soured into a bitter feud. He explains why it rattles Abuja’s inner circle and what the clash means for trust, security, and political survival.
We often tell ourselves that history is carved by swords, speeches, and bold declarations. That is not entirely true. Some of its most decisive turns are forged in something far more ìntìmàtè. They are broken friendships or alliances.
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Power rarely begins as hostility; it begins as a partnership. It begins with shared strategy rooms, whispered confidences, and clasped hands raised in victory. But ambition is not static. Influence does not remain evenly shared. And when growth becomes asymmetrical, yesterday’s allies often awaken as today’s rivals.
From the marble courts of ancient republics to the air-conditioned corridors of modern governance, the fiercest battles are not always between strangers; they are civil wars within a political family.
Parallels between Caesar and Adams
In Julius Caesar and Pompey, ancient Rome witnessed strategic brotherhood collapse into armed confrontation. Their First Triumvirate was cemented not only by political convenience but by family — Pompey married Caesar’s daughter, Julia. But when Julia died, and Crassus fell in battle, the glue dissolved. Caesar’s triumphs in Gaul elevated him beyond partnership into dominance. Suspicion replaced solidarity.
When Caesar crossed the Rubicon in 49 BCE, he marched not just against Pompey but against the illusion that power-sharing can endure indefinitely.
Centuries later, in the fragile infancy of the United States, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams replayed the pattern. Co-architects of independence, they admired one another deeply. Adams, the relentless advocate. Jefferson, the eloquent draftsman. But Federalism clashed with republican decentralisation. The election of 1800 deepened the fracture. Years of silence followed. Yet age softened rivalry, and correspondence resumed. Their deaths on July 4, 1826 — the same day, fifty years after independence — sealed their paradox: adversaries in politics, partners in legacy.
The wound of rivalry cuts deepest when inflicted by someone who once stood beside you in strategy meetings and campaign trenches. The public sees policy disputes; insiders often see bruised pride, competing futures, and an unspoken contest over legacy.
Personal vendettas and political rivalries
It is against this broader historical rhythm that we must situate the unfolding tension between Nasir El-Rufai and Nuhu Ribadu.
What we are witnessing in El-Rufai’s recent outbursts is not principled dissent against the state. It bears the unmistakable marks of a personal vendetta. It appears like a settling of scores with former allies he now considers disloyal. In that unravelling, he has collided with Malam Nuhu Ribadu, a man who once held him in such esteem that we were told he named a child after him. It is this tragic mutation of friendship into rivalry that exposes the unsettling underside of political ambition.
I admire El-Rufai a lot. There is no denying the force of his intellect. He is articulate, fearless, and rarely hesitant. His arguments are structured. His confidence is unmistakable. He has long cultivated the image of a reformer unafraid to confront entrenched interests. Few Nigerian politicians speak with his precision. When he enters a debate, he rarely tiptoes; he storms in.
But intellect is only one pillar of leadership. The other is character. Plato warned that when reason is not balanced by virtue, the state suffers. El-Rufai’s political journey raises precisely that philosophical dilemma: can brilliance compensate for instability in loyalty and truth?
Obasanjo's insights on El-Rufai
His former principal, Olusegun Obasanjo, answered that question in unusually stark language in his book "My Watch":
“Nasir’s penchant for reputation savaging is almost pathological. Why does he do it? Very early in my interaction with him, I appreciated his talent. At the same time, I recognised his weaknesses; the worst being his inability to be loyal to anybody or any issue consistently for long…"
"He lied brazenly, which he did to me, against his colleagues and so-called friends. My vivid recollection of him is penchant for lying, for unfair embellishment of stories, and his inability to sustain loyalty for long. He was described as a malicious liar. He was more than that; he is a pathological purveyor of untruths and half-truths with little or no regard for integrity.” — My Watch, Vol. 2, pp. 110–112.
It is one thing to be called brilliant. It is another to be called unreliable by the very leader who elevated you. In that contradiction lies the riddle of El-Rufai, dazzling in intellect, yet shadowed by questions of loyalty and truth.
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Reform roles of Ribadu and El-Rufai
Ribadu is cut from a different cloth. Where El-Rufai wields language like a sword, Ribadu prefers the quiet of institutional authority. His power rarely trends on social media; it circulates through memos and security briefings. If El-Rufai is fire, Ribadu is ice. I do not say this to praise one and diminish the other. Silence, after all, can conceal as much ambition as speech. Niccolò Machiavelli once observed that princes often prefer to be feared rather than loved. Ribadu prefers to be seen as unreadable.
Their recent clash has unfolded like political theatre. El-Rufai alleged that someone tapped Ribadu’s phone and overheard him ordering his arrest. He claimed that security institutions were being weaponised. Then came the bombshell accusation that the Office of the National Security Adviser procured thallium sulphate, a highly toxic chemical compound, from Poland. Ribadu responded. But it was not with equal fury, but with measured denial.
While one speaks in thunder, the other in controlled whispers. To many observers, things are clearly not rosy between the two.
This rupture did not emerge from nowhere. Between 2003 and 2007, under Olusegun Obasanjo, both men were poster boys of reform. Ribadu was the pioneer chairman of the EFCC, chasing governors and ministers with prosecutorial zeal. El-Rufai, as FCT Minister, bulldozed illegal structures and antagonised Abuja’s elite with unapologetic fervour. They were widely seen as members of the same reformist caucus.
There are accounts of El-Rufai mediating tensions between Ribadu’s EFCC and powerful state actors. There are also recollections, reported in columns, of Ribadu standing by El-Rufai during personal tragedy, assisting with arrangements after the heartbreaking loss of his daughter Yasmin. That level of solidarity is not superficial. It suggests a friendship rooted in more than politics.
Origins of their rivalry
The first visible crack reportedly appeared around 2011, when Ribadu accepted the presidential ticket of the ACN. Some accounts suggest El-Rufai felt sidelined or blindsided. From then on, their paths diverged across Nigeria’s shifting party alignments. But politics has a way of reuniting former rivals when interests align.
By 2023, both men were vocal supporters of Bola Tinubu. El-Rufai, especially, was one of Tinubu’s northern advocates during the campaign. It seemed the old reformist fraternity had matured into a strategic alliance.
Then came the ministerial nomination saga. El-Rufai’s name was submitted, screened, and ultimately dropped. He later suggested that a damaging security report—linked in public speculation to Ribadu’s office—had blocked his appointment. Whether proven or not, the allegation deepened suspicion. From that point, the feud ceased to be whispered and became explicit. El-Rufai openly declared that Ribadu was no longer his friend. Ribadu maintained public restraint.
There are murmurs that the real battlefield is 2031. With power expected to rotate northward, Ribadu is seen by some as a possible successor to Tinubu. If that perception is strong enough, it makes him both an asset and a threat. It also places him squarely in the line of political fire.
National impact of their conflict
To many commentators, this feud is less about toxic chemicals or tapped phones and more about positioning. El-Rufai may feel pained at being left out of the inner circle of power despite his role in Tinubu’s emergence. Ribadu, as National Security Adviser, sits at the heart of the state’s coercive machinery. One feels excluded; the other appears entrenched. It resembles what Thomas Hobbes described in Leviathan as the perpetual contest for power after power.
And so I watch them—one delivering rhetorical salvos, the other offering restrained counterpoints—and I struggle to see patriotism in the exchange. I see calculation. I see survival. I see two intelligent men who once symbolised reform now locked in what appears to be a personal war dressed up as national concern.
If Ribadu indeed wants El-Rufai politically neutralised, that speaks to ambition. If El-Rufai is waging this battle to regain relevance, that too speaks to ambition.
I cannot persuade myself that this duel serves the Nigerian people. Inflation does not drop because two former allies trade accusations. Insecurity does not vanish because one alleges a conspiracy and the other denies it. What it seems to many Nigerians and observers is simple: this is a fight for space, for supremacy, for survival.
While one is visibly wounded by exclusion from the power game, the other strikes quietly from within the system. None of them, at this moment, embodies the selfless patriot.
History may yet reconcile them. Politics is famous for improbable reunions. But for now, their outbursts amount to little more than noise, a distraction from weightier matters.
Oluwafemi Popoola is a journalist, political analyst, and columnist with 8 years’ experience, providing in-depth commentary on governance, public policy, and democracy in Nigeria and beyond.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Legit.ng.
Source: Legit.ng
