While President Bola Tinubu concluded a significant state visit to the Republic of Türkiye, marked by high-level engagements and the signing of crucial bilateral agreements, an accompanying reflection highlights the profound historical lessons embedded within the very city of Istanbul. President Tinubu arrived in Ankara on Monday, at 9:03 PM local time, initiating a visit aimed at strengthening the existing cordial relations between Nigeria and Türkiye and exploring further avenues for a mutually beneficial partnership.

During his engagements with Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, discussions were held to deepen collaboration and advance shared objectives. The visit culminated in the signing of nine comprehensive bilateral agreements. These agreements span critical sectors including Defence Cooperation, Energy, Security, Research, Diaspora Policy, and the establishment of a Joint Economy and Trade Committee. Further accords covered Halal Quality Infrastructure, cooperation in Higher Education, Media and Communication, Education, as well as institutional cooperation between the foreign affairs academies and social services ministries of both nations. A key outcome of the visit was a commitment from President Erdoğan to increase the bilateral trade volume between Nigeria and Türkiye from the current $2 billion to an ambitious $5 billion, with discussions already underway to actualize this target. Türkiye primarily exports planes, helicopters, machinery, iron and steel, and chemical products to Nigeria, while Nigeria contributes crude oil and agricultural products to this trade.

However, the visit also garnered attention due to an incident where President Tinubu momentarily stumbled and fell during a reception parade in Turkey. A video captured the President losing his footing while exchanging pleasantries, though he was quickly helped back to his feet by officials. The Nigerian Presidency, through Special Adviser Sunday Dare, swiftly reassured the public, confirming that President Tinubu was in "great shape" and continued to carry out his official duties smoothly. The President returned to Abuja on Saturday night, touching down at the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport at 8:55 p.m., accompanied by a delegation that included key ministers such as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Attorney General of the Federation, Minister of Defence, and the National Security Adviser.

In parallel, an observer traveling solo through Istanbul during the President's visit offered a contemplative perspective on the impermanence of power, drawing from the city's rich history. Istanbul, a metropolis that has humbled emperors and outlived countless certainties, serves as a poignant reminder that history ultimately delivers the final verdict on leadership. The journey began at Hagia Sophia, a monumental structure originally built in 537 AD as the world's largest Christian cathedral. For over nine centuries, it stood as the spiritual heart of Eastern Christianity and a grand symbol of the Byzantine Empire. Its conversion into a mosque in 1453 by Sultan Mehmed II, following the conquest of Constantinople, marked a decisive civilizational shift. Yet, even with its minarets rising alongside its immense dome, Hagia Sophia retained its architectural soul, a physical testament to how power may change hands, but history's marks endure.

Across from Hagia Sophia lies Topkapi Palace, an expansive complex built by Sultan Mehmed II that served as the residence and administrative headquarters for Ottoman sultans for nearly four centuries. More than just a royal dwelling, Topkapi was a machinery of empire, where law, religion, military authority, and bureaucracy converged to impose order across vast territories. A short distance away, the Bosphorus, a narrow waterway connecting the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara, physically and metaphorically binds Europe and Asia. Istanbul, neither fully European nor Asian, has always been both—a "hinge of history" where Rome's legacy persisted, Christianity matured, and empires clashed without erasing the city's cosmopolitan essence.

These historical observations pivot to an uncomfortable contemporary parallel in Nigeria. The author reflects on how power is acquired, sustained, and ultimately lost, drawing lessons from ancient Rome. Rome, initially a republic founded on shared authority, civic participation, and debate, eventually succumbed to the pressures of governing an expanding empire. Endless debates, rival elites, and civil wars paralyzed governance, making liberty seem dangerous. Gradually, Romans made the fateful choice of prioritizing order over the abstractions of freedom. This illustrates a fundamental truth of political history: in times of rising insecurity, people are often willing to surrender freedom for the promise of stability.

Empires, historically, offer predictability, security, and clear authority during crises—qualities that republics, with their inherent debate, delay, and compromise, struggle to deliver. In moments of fear, order almost invariably triumphs over process. This historical pattern resonates in modern Nigeria, where a segment of the population openly yearns for a return to military rule, despite its documented history of repression and curtailed freedoms. This longing is not for authoritarianism itself, but stems from an exhaustion with pervasive insecurity, chaos, and institutional failures that have relegated freedom to a fragile luxury. When democratic governance fails to protect lives and property, its moral arguments lose their urgency, leading people to question the very capacity of anyone to govern effectively.

Ultimately, history offers a sobering caution: no empire reigns forever. Power is inherently temporary, and supremacy always expires. The ruins of Rome, the transformed halls of Hagia Sophia, and the silent courtyards of Topkapi Palace collectively echo the same warning—authority is borrowed, never owned. Rome's transition to empire was not a forgetting of liberty, but a consequence of liberty's inability to compete with stability on an imperial scale. Augustus was invited to restore order, leading to centuries of imperial peace, but at the irreversible cost of republican freedom. This path, history shows, leads inevitably to the rise and fall of great powers that mistake dominance for permanence. The profound historical tapestry of Istanbul thus serves as a crucial reminder for contemporary leaders like President Tinubu and his team: to approach governance not as tourists of power, but as diligent students of history, recognizing that its final vote is always cast.