By; Steve Otaloro
We have a curious political culture. We complain about chaos, yet we are suspicious of calm. We condemn excesses of power, yet we interpret restraint as weakness.
For years, we accommodated underperformance. We rationalized abandoned initiatives. We defended theatrics as leadership. Noise was governance. Press statements were progress.
Now, we are confronted with something less dramatic and somehow, that is unsettling.
Governor Lucky Aiyedatiwa does not project resentment. He is not theatrically loud. He listens more than he speaks. In a system accustomed to combative posturing, that temperament was misread. Some assumed that because he was not constantly thundering, they could experiment with political hierarchy under his watch- even attempt to fracture the state congress for strategic leverage.
They believed that because he listens carefully, he could be persuaded into factional traps. They thought calm meant pliability. They mistook patience for indecision.
They eventually discovered otherwise.
When persuasion failed and division tactics did not produce the expected outcome, frustration escalated. The volume increased. The outrage intensified. But volume is not authority.
The constitutional and party framework is unambiguous: a governor is the leader of his party in his state, just as the president is the leader of the party nationally. That is not a sentimental position; it is structural. It is institutional. It is settled doctrine within party governance architecture.
What some overlooked is this: the power of a sitting governor within party machinery is substantial. Influence over structure, cohesion, and direction is not theoretical. Yet Governor Aiyedatiwa has hardly maximized that leverage for personal consolidation. Restraint, again, was interpreted as vulnerability.
It was a miscalculation.
Because he does not indulge in propaganda, preferring that projects and policy decisions speak for themselves, some assumed he could be taken for granted. Because he does not thrive on disruption politics, they believed he could be dragged into it.
But governance is not a wrestling ring.
There is a difference between silence and strategy.
The seeming quietness of a lion is not born of fear; it is born of awareness of its own capacity. Power that understands itself does not need constant exhibition. It acts when necessary.
Within one year as an elected governor, there has been visible project commissioning, administrative consolidation, and an emphasis on continuity over chaos. That may not satisfy those who prefer perpetual conflict as a political tool, but institutions are not strengthened through theatrics.
The irony remains: we demanded disciplined leadership. We demanded maturity. We demanded less noise and more work.
Now that we are seeing a model that leans toward consolidation rather than confrontation, some are uncomfortable.
Governor Lucky Aiyedatiwa appears less interested in applause and more invested in architecture, governance architecture, party stability, and incremental execution.
Calm is not weakness. Listening is not surrender. Restraint is not incapacity.
And power, when properly understood, rarely needs to shout.
