Politics

Osun 2026: When Two Demons Turn on Each Other

Published by Tope Fakinlede on July 15th, 2025.

Osun 2026: When Two Demons Turn on Each Other

By Sulaiman Gafar

Adeleke and Aregbesola

History is full of tales where those who rise with divine aura end in disgrace—kings who saw themselves as gods, only to fall by their own pride. In sacred texts, we find warnings: Lucifer, once Heaven’s favorite, was cast down (Isaiah 14:12–15); Iblis, defiant before God, was cursed forever (Qur’an, Surah Sad 38:76–77). These aren’t just stories—they’re lessons. And nowhere are they more visible today than in Osun State’s political theater, where Rauf Aregbesola and the Adeleke clan, once allies, now engage in a bitter war of egos.

Aregbesola once commanded crowds with charisma and populist fervor, hailed as a liberator when he first rose. But beneath the chants and red caps lay authoritarian instincts. His governance was marred by massive debt, unpaid civil servants, and abandoned projects. Osun became a financial wreck, drained of resources and drowning in empty slogans. Workers cried out for relief while the man who pledged liberation pursued vanity projects and political grandstanding.

Now, years later, Aregbesola resurfaces—not as a redeemer, but as a critic. His recent outburst condemned the current government for hunger and stagnation, even blaming the weather. Irony bleeds through every word. This is the same man who once elevated the Adeles to political stardom. Now, cornered by his fading relevance, he lashes out—attempting to rewrite his legacy by shifting blame.

But if Aregbesola is the fallen emperor, then the Adeleke family is the dynasty of disruption. From Senator Ayoola Adeleke’s chronic party-hopping in the old Oyo State, to Isiaka Adeleke’s self-serving power games, their history is rooted in opportunism, not service. Senator Isiaka, known for flair over substance, weakened the PDP from within in 2014, defecting to APC purely to serve his ambition—not to build, but to benefit.

Governor Ademola Adeleke, the latest chapter in this saga, mirrors the family’s traits. Cloaked in dance steps and populist soundbites, his leadership often appears more performative than purposeful. Behind the photo-ops and crowd-pleasing, there is little direction. His fight for a second term now threatens to fracture the same party that carried him. Like his brother, he is ready to burn the house down if it won’t serve his ambition.

The hypocrisy is stunning. Once shielded by Aregbesola’s political might, Adeleke now derides him as a failed leader. He touts his repayment of pension debt and payment of backlogged salaries as if that alone compensates for misgovernance. Meanwhile, Osun drifts—its people caught between media spats and shallow governance.

In stark contrast stood Adegboyega Oyetola, often mocked for being calm or understated. But his record speaks for itself. Unlike his predecessors, he paid salaries on time, rebuilt healthcare infrastructure, and ensured food security for the vulnerable. While others shouted, he worked. While some danced, he delivered. Oyetola’s leadership lacked drama—but it also lacked debt and despair.

Even as Aregbesola betrayed him, Oyetola maintained composure. He chose dignity over drama. But the monster born from Aregbesola and the Adeles’ political games is now out of control, striking at both its makers. What they once hid with camaraderie has now unraveled in open warfare. Public insults, blame games, and veiled threats dominate the headlines. The alliance was never real—just a transaction of ambition.

Today, their feud exposes their true faces. Aregbesola, once adored, now clutches at relevance with weather metaphors. Adeleke, once humble, now fires back with barbed press statements. Their alliance has collapsed into a circus—and Osun is paying the price.

Scripture warns: “Pride goes before destruction” (Proverbs 16:18). The Qur’an echoes: “They forgot God, so He made them forget themselves” (Surah Al-Hashr 59:19). That is exactly what happened here. Both men made promises to uplift Osun. Instead, they forgot service, and remembered only their hunger for power.

As 2026 approaches, Osun must remember these betrayals. The people deserve leadership rooted in vision—not vanity. They deserve truth, not theatrics. Let the next election be a rejection of recycled failures and performative politics.

In all this chaos, perhaps one blessing remains: the masks are off. We now see clearly who’s who. And maybe, just maybe, Osun will choose better next time