By Tony Iwuoma
When the history of Nigeria’s political decadence is finally written, the season we are living through will deserve its own chapter, a cautionary tale titled “Before Nigeria Defected.”
The phrase sounds exaggerated, almost absurd. But pause for a moment and look around. Every week, from one state to another, politicians, governors, senators, ex-ministers, former foes of the All Progressives Congress (APC) are suddenly rediscovering affection for the ruling party. They are crossing over in droves, clutching brooms they once mocked, delivering speeches that sound as hollow as campaign jingles played out of tune.
In the past few months alone, Nigeria has witnessed what can only be described as a mass political migration, not out of conviction or ideological realignment, but sheer survivalism. This is not politics; it is political self-preservation at its most naked. The defectors are not joining the APC because they have come to believe in President Bola Tinubu’s “Renewed Hope Agenda.” They are joining because they believe, as usual, that proximity to power is the only insurance policy in the Nigerian political marketplace.
Let’s call this what it is: an epidemic of opportunism. Every election cycle in Nigeria comes with predictable rituals, defections before primaries, defections after primaries, defections before inaugurations, and defections once the gravy train has left the station. But the current wave is particularly alarming because of its scale and brazenness.
Those who lost elections are defecting. Those under investigation are defecting. Those who just want to “stay relevant” are defecting. The ruling party, for its part, has left the gates wide open, sweeping everyone in, good, bad or indifferent.
This is how we arrived at this surreal juncture where it feels as if the country itself, not just the politicians, is defecting. If we continue like this, Nigeria might soon have no opposition worth mentioning, and that is dangerous, not for the PDP or Labour Party, but for democracy itself.
It is tempting to lay the blame at President Bola Tinubu’s feet, but that would be both simplistic and unfair. Tinubu is a shrewd politician, no doubt, one who understands power, patronage, and political arithmetic better than most. But he is not the architect of Nigeria’s defectors’ culture. The defectors have been defecting long before Tinubu became president.
In truth, Tinubu doesn’t have to beg anyone to join his party; the desperation is doing the work for him. The typical Nigerian politician believes government is the only business in town. When their party loses power, it is not the ideology that collapses; it is their sense of purpose. They begin to gasp for political oxygen, and the ruling party becomes the only available life raft.
Tinubu is merely the latest beneficiary of a broken system. The rot is deeper, rooted in decades of transactional politics and the absence of ideology. Nigeria’s political elite are not loyal to platforms; they are loyal to the privileges those platforms provide.
Let’s strip away the drama and call our politics by its real name: a marketplace. In this market, parties are not institutions of ideas; they are mere brands of convenience. Membership is fluid, loyalty is negotiable, and the only ideology is “what is in it for me.”
That is why the same politicians who swore by the PDP in 2011 are now kneeling before the APC in 2025. The same ones who cursed Tinubu on campaign stages now praise him as a visionary leader. Yesterday’s enemy becomes today’s ally, and tomorrow’s defector again. It is a circus powered by greed and amnesia.
The saddest part is that this political prostitution is not without reward. In Nigeria, defection is often a shortcut to relevance. Join the ruling party, and suddenly your sins are forgiven. Your corruption cases might slow down, your contracts might flow again, and your name might reappear on the presidential guest list. Stay in the opposition, and you risk political extinction.
When loyalty is punished and opportunism is rewarded, what kind of democracy can thrive?
A healthy democracy depends on competition, not just at the ballot box but in ideas, policies, and accountability. Nigeria’s founding fathers understood this. They disagreed, often fiercely, but there was a sense of intellectual purpose behind their politics.
Today, that legacy has evaporated. The PDP, once the dominant party, now exists in fragments. The Labour Party, which galvanized millions during the 2023 elections, is struggling with internal leadership crises and legal disputes. Smaller parties have either gone silent or are negotiating backdoor mergers with the APC.
If this trend continues, Nigeria risks sliding into a de facto one-party state, not by decree, but by defection. That would be the death of accountability. Without a credible opposition, the ruling party becomes judge, jury, and referee in its own game. The media will shout, the people will complain, but power will have no real rival.
The ease with which Nigerian politicians switch parties exposes a fundamental flaw: we do not have politicians, we have career officeholders. A politician with ideology can disagree with his government yet remain loyal to his convictions. But our brand of politics is purely transactional, a game of musical chairs played around the treasury.
It is telling that in Nigeria, no one defects because of ideas. Nobody says, “I left my party because it abandoned social justice,” or “because it betrayed fiscal responsibility.” The reasons are always coded: “consultations,” “aligning with the center,” “for national interest.” In translation, these mean: I need access to power, contracts, and protection.
Ironically, the APC itself should be cautious about celebrating too much. When your tent becomes too wide, it will eventually collapse under its own weight. Many of those defecting today are political liabilities, men and women who bring baggage, not value. They will praise Tinubu today and turn on him tomorrow. They are refugees of convenience, not converts of conviction.
Tinubu, who built his reputation on political strategy, must also be wary of the strange bedfellows now flocking around him under the guise of loyalty. Many of these new entrants are not in the APC because they believe in his vision; they are there because they smell opportunity. Their endorsements are often fake, their praises mechanical, their allegiance conditional.
Political endorsement in Nigeria is often a currency of deceit. It is a way of whispering loyalty while waiting for opportunity for betrayal.
Tinubu should remember: loyalty that is purchased is never real. The same defectors who chant “Asiwaju!” today will defect again tomorrow when the wind changes direction. A party without ideological gates may soon find itself overrun by mercenaries pretending to be believers.
This moment calls for reflection, not celebration. Before Nigeria defects completely, before we surrender even the illusion of political diversity, we must ask: how did we get here?
Our laws still allow free, consequence-less defection. Section 68(g) of the Constitution prohibits legislators from defecting unless their party is “divided.” But our courts have stretched this loophole so wide that everyone now claims “division.” The result is chaos without consequence.
For Nigeria’s political elite, loyalty to the people means nothing, but loyalty to power means everything. Until this culture changes, every new government will inherit the same defectors in different clothing.
The voters cheer when our “man” defects to the ruling party because we expect him to “bring development”. We reward opportunism with applause. We make heroes out of hustlers. If we continue this way, we will always have politics without principle.
Democracy is not just about elections; it is about accountability. The opposition matters not because it wants to seize power, but because it keeps power honest. When everyone joins the ruling party, who will question the government? Who will speak for the people when the powerful misbehave?
President Tinubu’s government may not be responsible for creating the culture of defection, but it has an opportunity, perhaps, the last one, to begin changing it. That would mean rejecting opportunists, encouraging ideological clarity, and building a party that values competence over convenience.
But if the APC continues to sweep in every defector in sight, if the opposition continues to crumble under its own greed, and if Nigerians continue to tolerate this cycle of political migration, then one day soon, we won’t just say “PDP has defected” or “Labour has defected.”
We will say, with grim accuracy, that Nigeria itself has defected.
And that would be the day our democracy finally gives up the ghost.
*Iwuoma is a commentator on public issues
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