By
Nze David N. Ugwu
The Great Irony of Our Democracy
Democracy, they say, is the government of the people, for the people, and by the people. But in today’s Nigeria, that hallowed creed has become an empty slogan—repeated often, lived rarely. We are witnessing a tragic irony: a democracy in which the people have become spectators, not participants; pawns, not players. The very essence of popular sovereignty has been hijacked by a political elite who treat electoral mandates like personal property deeds.
In recent months, Nigeria’s political landscape has witnessed a frenetic wave of defections to the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC). From governors to senators, from House members to state executives, the migration has been massive, brazen, and shamelessly self-serving. Like moths drawn to a flame, politicians from the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), the Labour Party (LP), and smaller formations have all found refuge in the APC’s widening tent. This is not politics driven by ideology or conviction—it is opportunism, pure and simple.
The Collapse of Political Ideology
Political parties are supposed to be vehicles of ideas, bound by shared philosophies and policy goals. In developed democracies, one can predict a party’s position on key national issues: conservatives emphasize market freedom and limited government; progressives focus on social welfare and equity. But in Nigeria, parties are not ideological homes—they are mere platforms for accessing power.
What does the APC stand for today that distinguishes it from the PDP or LP? What vision of governance or social transformation guides their manifesto? In truth, there is none. The labels differ, but the politics is the same—patronage, prebendalism, and personal ambition. Our politicians defect not because they disagree with policies, but because they want to remain relevant in the corridors of power.
This ideological vacuum explains why defections in Nigeria are so frequent and so casual. Political loyalty is transactional. The moment a new political wind blows, the so-called “leaders” adjust their sails. Integrity has no place in this moral desert.
The Governor as Emperor
Perhaps the most disturbing feature of this new political culture is the near-total capture of the democratic process by governors. In the states, the governor is everything—the party leader, the godfather, the financier, the arbiter, and, in some cases, the law itself. Once a governor defects, the entire state apparatus—commissioners, advisers, lawmakers, local government chairmen—collapses into his new party without resistance. The people’s will is neither sought nor considered. There is no consultation, no debate, no referendum. The governor decides, and the people follow—or are made to.
This is not democracy; it is feudalism in civilian garb. The governors have become modern-day emperors presiding over political fiefdoms. The electorate, whose mandate put them there, has been reduced to an afterthought. Political parties have become private estates managed by a few individuals who wield absolute control over nominations, candidacies, and appointments.
The tragic result is that democracy in Nigeria no longer flows from the bottom up—it trickles from the top down. Power no longer emanates from the people; it is dispensed to them.
The Death of Accountability
When elected officials can cross party lines without consequence, democracy dies a little. Defections without ideological justification are acts of political betrayal. They mock the sanctity of the vote. A voter who supported a PDP or LP candidate does so because of the party’s platform and promise. When that candidate defects to another party mid-term, he has effectively invalidated the voter’s choice. Yet, in Nigeria, this betrayal is celebrated. Those who defect are welcomed with open arms and red carpets, their “sins” of opposition instantly forgiven.
What message does this send to the electorate? That votes do not matter. That loyalty to the people is optional. That the end—political survival—justifies any means.
Democracy cannot thrive where there is no accountability. In mature democracies, party-switching often triggers recall efforts or by-elections. In Nigeria, it triggers press conferences and praise songs. The people have been disenfranchised by the very people they elected.
The Party System in Ruins
The current wave of defections underscores a deeper malaise—the death of party institutionalization. Nigerian parties are weak, personality-driven, and dependent on state resources. They do not have strong internal democracy. Party congresses are stage-managed. Primaries are manipulated. The rank and file are sidelined. Those who speak truth to power are punished with suspension or expulsion. The party is no longer a forum for ideas—it is a bazaar of interests.
The result is predictable chaos. When the governor defects, the state party executive collapses overnight. The so-called party members—many of whom are job seekers or contractors—move with the tide. Political survival, not principle, determines allegiance. The people have been so conditioned that they now see politics as a profession, not public service.
This explains why Nigerian democracy remains fragile after 25 years of civilian rule. We have elections without democratic culture, parties without principles, and leaders without conscience.
The Electorate in Chains
In this charade, the greatest victims are the ordinary citizens. Their voices no longer matter. The electorate—the supposed cornerstone of democracy—has been silenced by poverty, disillusionment, and fear. The voter is courted during campaigns, bribed on election day, and forgotten the morning after. Power is taken, not given. Representation is hollow. The people are treated not as sovereigns, but as subjects.
When the governor decides to defect, he does not seek their consent. When legislators cross to another party, they do not explain to their constituents. The people’s opinions are irrelevant. Their rights are theoretical. They are expected to clap, cheer, and move on.
This alienation breeds cynicism. Voter turnout continues to decline because Nigerians no longer believe that their votes matter. The 2023 general elections recorded one of the lowest turnouts in history. It was not apathy—it was protest. A silent declaration that the people have lost faith in the process.
When Democracy Becomes an Oligarchy
A democracy without the people is a contradiction in terms. What we have in Nigeria today is not people’s rule—it is the rule of a few over the many. An oligarchy masquerading as democracy. Decisions are made by political elites, not through consultation but coercion. Policies are not shaped by public opinion but by vested interests. The media is intimidated, the civil society is co-opted, and the opposition is neutralized.
The concentration of political power in the hands of a few has dangerous implications for governance. It breeds impunity. It destroys institutions. It encourages corruption. It turns public office into private enterprise. When politicians know they can defect at will, they stop caring about public approval. When they know the people have no real say, they govern by decree.
We are, therefore, at a crossroads. Nigeria must decide whether it wants to remain a democracy in name or become one in substance.
The Constitution and the Failure of Institutions
Our 1999 Constitution, flawed as it is, was designed to prevent precisely this abuse of power. It provides that elected officials who defect without a justifiable division in their party should lose their seats. Yet, this provision has been rendered impotent by selective enforcement and judicial compromise. The courts, which should be the last line of defense, have often legitimized political immorality through technical judgments.
The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), which should be the guardian of democratic integrity, has been reduced to a referee without a whistle. It watches helplessly as the game of defection continues unchecked. The National Assembly, which should legislate against this practice, is itself complicit—being populated by defectors and beneficiaries of the same rot.
Institutions that should check political recklessness have been captured. The watchdogs have become lapdogs. The Constitution has become a weapon of convenience, interpreted to suit the powerful.
The Way Forward: Reclaiming the People’s Mandate
Democracy can only survive when the people reclaim their voice. The first step is constitutional reform—to make defections costly and politically suicidal. A defecting governor or legislator should automatically lose his mandate unless he can prove ideological or constitutional justification. There must be clear consequences for political betrayal.
Second, party reform is essential. Political parties must be restructured to restore internal democracy. Candidates should emerge through transparent primaries, not through the whims of godfathers. Party funding should be regulated to reduce dependence on state coffers. Ideology, not opportunism, must guide party identity.
Third, citizen empowerment must become central. The electorate must understand that democracy is not a spectator sport. Civic education, youth engagement, and grassroots mobilization are critical. The people must insist on being consulted, not commanded. They must demand accountability from those who govern in their name.
Lastly, the media and civil society must rise again as the conscience of the nation. Silence in the face of this democratic decay is complicity. We must speak, write, and organize until the system bends to the will of the people.
Conclusion: The Crossroads of Conscience
Nigeria’s democracy stands at a perilous crossroads. One path leads to renewal—where power returns to the people, institutions regain integrity, and parties rediscover purpose. The other leads to ruin—a future where elections become rituals, defections become norms, and the people become voiceless.
The choice before us is moral, not merely political. Shall we continue to tolerate a democracy of governors and godfathers, or shall we reclaim the democracy of citizens and conscience? The time for silence is over. The time for awakening is now.
For if democracy must survive in Nigeria, the people must once again become its heartbeat—not its forgotten shadow.
Nze David N. Ugwu is the Managing Consultant of Knowledge Research Consult. He could be reached at [email protected] or +2348037269333.
