Anthony Obi Ogbo
Why APC and PDP are hopeless and politically dangerous
“PDP was set up to defraud Nigeria; APC was set up to remove Jonathan. Both parties have since accomplished their objectives and might not offer anything new,” ―Anthony Obi Ogbo
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In November 2016, almost 18 months into the regime of the All Progressives Congress (APC), Professor Hassan Saliu, a former Dean, Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Ilorin, stated during a media interview that the APC’s sole change agenda was removing the incumbent, Dr. Goodluck Jonathan. He may have been right, because in April 2017, Asiwaju Bola Tinubu expressed similar thoughts, and even bragged that he would “write a book to reveal how Jonathan was removed.” At the time, he was the APC’s national leader, and he is now the party’s presidential candidate for the upcoming election.
Political trends over the years suggest that the acquisitive monopoly of power is the only constructive agenda of both the APC and the People’s Democratic Party (PDP). This has been proven, because both parties have operated with no detectible policy agenda and no system structural ideology—instead, they have engaged in increasing the recycling of members to exploit the system. For instance, in February 2021, Nigeria’s Senate President, Ahmad Lawan, vowed that his party, the APC, would surpass the PDP’s record by dominating the central government for more than 16 years. The PDP ruled Nigeria for 16 years after the return of democracy in 1999, until it was removed by the APC in 2015.
Surprisingly, Lawan’s comment has been replicated by most staunch members of the APC, who believe that tenure-sharing between the two major parties should outline the basis for making choices in the upcoming 2023 elections. Alternatively, the PDP wants Nigerians to ignore its 16‑year disastrous stewardship and focus on APC’s catastrophic 7-year regime.
The originations of both parties should remind Nigerians that their much-awaited milk and honey will never come from either party. For instance, the PDP was conceived to defraud this country and enrich a selected political upper-class—largely, those connected with second republic politicians and their allies in the defense sector. Consequently, the APC was established with one major motive—to remove Jonathan, who became a distraction and a pain to the elite and the draconian political godfathers. In essence, the APC and the PDP parties have accomplished their objectives and will never offer anything new. Both parties are essentially hopeless and politically dangerous in building any path to Nigeria’s democracy.
The formation of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) in 1998 was convenient because Nigerians were struggling under the protracted military dictatorship of Gen. Sani Abacha, who vowed to stay put. Abacha’s untimely death in June 1998 signaled the end of 16 years of military rule; the interim government proposed holding an election the following year.
The PDP won the people’s hearts because it was primarily formed by members of numerous groups and organizations who were very vocal about the outgoing junta regime. The party also floated an ideology that reflected a broader political base, supported economic deregulation and human rights, and advocated greater funding for health care and education.
It didn’t stop there; the PDP boosted its favorability when it created an unofficial policy of rotating the presidency between candidates from the predominantly Christian south and the Muslim north. They actually lived up to that promise. After the regime of Olusegun Obasanjo and Atiku Abubakar, the party candidates were Umaru Musa Yar’Adua, a Muslim and the governor of the northern state of Katsina, and Goodluck Jonathan, a Christian and the governor of the southern state of Bayelsa.
Jonathan’s first misstep was boldly alienating some of his political godfathers, including a former President who was somehow instrumental in his rise to the presidency, retired Gen. Olusegun Obasanjo. Obasanjo went after Jonathan in sheer retaliation and fired off an 18-page public letter in 2013 containing lacerating criticism of his regime. He also categorically stated that it would be “morally flawed” for Jonathan to run for re-election in 2015.
A massive growing antagonism over Jonathan led to the unification of Nigeria’s three biggest opposition parties, and ultimately a merger; the Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN), the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), and the All Nigeria Peoples Party (ANPP) became the All Progressives Congress (APC).
The APC executed two campaign strategies. The first was concocting and infiltrating the system with a collection of conspiracy theories to derail Jonathan’s popularity and suppress PDP’s control. Then they showcased a fabricated campaign agenda and wooed the vulnerable masses with thousands of inconceivable campaign promises. In addition to deceiving the youth with fake promises of education and employment opportunities, the desperate APC campaigned on complete system restructuring, total obliteration of terrorist insurgencies within months, and transforming the country’s currency, Naira, to have equal value with the dollar. This is how Nigeria got to its present governance uncertainty.
The political implications of the dysfunctional power control by the APC and the PDP is that the nation of Nigeria is in trouble. Here is why—for over 23 years, the PDP and the APC have been the epicenters of the downfall of Nigeria at all levels of governance. Today, after almost seven years of ruling, the APC has dragged Nigeria into a near economic depression. The bad news is that the same APC is scheming to remain in power without any blueprint to fix the system failure it has been facilitating.
The good news is that the suffering Nigerian masses have the chance to elect a new regime. However, the question is whether these voters are sincere enough to reject the gangs of predatory candidates and parties that triggered the current predicament at the polls. Are Nigerians ready to ignore the current APC-PDP ruthless power-sharing culture to embrace something entirely new?
Listen to Dino Melaye, a former lawmaker who represented Kogi West Senatorial District, as he addressed Peter Obi, the Labour Party presidential candidate: “By the grace of God, you have the potential of being the president in the nearest future. I celebrate you and I celebrate your movement for a new Nigeria. While I celebrate you, I want to advise you that your time is not now. You have to wait for your time.”
Melaye’s mentality harmonizes with the same culture that has kept this country in bondage under a ruthless mob of political elites; they believe that a selected few are entitled to democratic governance. The elitist political cliques decide who will lead the central government, then impose their will on the vulnerable masses.
Nigerian voters have been very hypocritical when making electoral decisions in the past.
The electorates are also part of the problem. Nigerian voters have been very hypocritical when making electoral decisions in the past. Their voting habits have been stupid and self-destructive. Yet it is apparent that Nigeria can never survive under the APC or the PDP, because those parties can only cause more miseries and hardship.
The third ballot option is Peter Obi and his Labour Party (LP). There is no doubt that ushering in such a novice party and candidate with minimal legislative backup would create bumpy decision-making pathways and slow down tough legislative proposals. Frankly, with the LP option, there might be an uphill battle between the executive and the opposition legislative branches. The former would be struggling to overhaul the structures, whereas the latter would be fighting tooth-and-nail to maintain an oppressive status quo.
But those are core challenges associated with the change process―the fear and resistance of the anti-change agents regarding something entirely new. Those opposed to the change process could go to every length to retain a malfunctioned prevailing culture. Nevertheless, in the democratic process, such differences can be negotiated.
Regardless of the nature of the campaign, at this time it may be necessary to put emotions, ethnic connectivity, and personal interests aside in order to impartially accept the fact that Nigeria will never survive as a nation under either the APC or the PDP. Any other party, any other candidate, stands a better chance to pull this great nation out of its current deadly slumber―but definitely not the APC, and not the PDP.
♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Journalism and RTF Professor, Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D. is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015) and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us
- Texas’ 18th Congressional District Runoff: Amanda Edwards Deserves This Seat - December 18, 2025
- Turnout, Trust, and Ground Game: What Decided Houston’s Runoff Elections - December 14, 2025
- When Power Doesn’t Need Permission: Nigeria and the Collapse of a Gambian Coup Plot - December 14, 2025
“Her persistence and long-term investment make a clear case: she has earned this opportunity.“ —Anthony Obi Ogbo
In the special election to fill Texas’s 18th Congressional District, no candidate won a majority on November 4, 2025, leading to a January 31, 2026, runoff between Democratic frontrunners Christian Menefee and Amanda Edwards. Menefee, Harris County Attorney, led the field with roughly 29% of the vote, while former Houston City Council member Edwards finished second with about 26%. Both are vying to represent a district left vacant after the death of U.S. Rep. Sylvester Turner.
The 18th Congressional District is far more than a geographic area. Anchored in Houston’s historic Black communities, it is a political and cultural stronghold shaped by civil rights history, faith institutions, and grassroots activism. Sheila Jackson Lee represented this district for nearly three decades (1995–2024), becoming more than a legislator—she was a constant presence at churches, funerals, protests, and community milestones. For residents, her leadership carried spiritual weight, reflecting stewardship, protection, and a deep, almost pastoral guardianship of the district. Her tenure symbolized continuity, cultural pride, and a profound connection with the people she served.
Houstonians watched as Jackson Lee entered the 2023 Houston mayoral race, attempting to transition from Congress to city leadership. Despite high-profile endorsements, including outgoing Mayor Sylvester Turner and national Democratic figures, she lost the December 9, 2023, runoff to State Senator John Whitmire by a wide margin. Following that defeat, Jackson Lee filed to run for re-election to her U.S. House seat, even as Edwards—who had briefly joined the mayoral race before withdrawing—remained in the congressional primary.
At that time, Jackson Lee’s health was visibly declining, yet voters still supported her, honoring decades of service. She defeated Edwards in the 2024 Democratic primary before announcing her battle with pancreatic cancer. Her passing in July 2024 left the seat vacant.
Edwards, already a candidate, sought to fill the seat, but timing and party rules intervened. Because Jackson Lee died too late for a regular primary, Harris County Democratic Party precinct chairs selected a replacement nominee. Former Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner, a retired but widely respected figure, narrowly edged out Edwards for the nomination, effectively blocking her despite her prior campaigning efforts. Turner won the general election but died in March 2025, triggering a special election in 2025, in which Edwards advanced to a runoff.
The January 31, 2026, runoff will hinge on turnout, coalition-building, and key endorsements. Both candidates led a crowded November field but fell short of a majority, with Menefee narrowly ahead. Endorsements such as State Rep. Jolanda Jones’ support for Edwards could consolidate key Democratic blocs, particularly among Black women and progressive voters. In a heavily Democratic district where voter confusion and turnout patterns have been inconsistent, the candidate who best mobilizes supporters and unites constituencies is likely to prevail.
Amanda Edwards’ case is compelling. Although both candidates share similar values and qualifications, her claim rests on dedication, consistency, and timing that have been repeatedly denied. She pursued this seat with focus and purpose, maintaining a steady commitment to the district and its future. Her path was interrupted by the prolonged political ambitions of Jackson Lee and Turner—figures whose stature reshaped the race but delayed generational transition. Edwards did not step aside; she remained visible, engaged, and prepared. In a moment demanding both continuity and renewal, her persistence and long-term investment make a clear case: she has earned this opportunity.
This race comes down to trust, perseverance, and demonstrated commitment. Amanda Edwards has consistently shown up for the district, even when political circumstances repeatedly delayed her chance. Her dedication reflects readiness, respect for the electorate, and an unwavering commitment to service. Voting for Amanda Edwards is not only justified—it is the right choice for Houston’s 18th Congressional District.
♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015) and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us
- Texas’ 18th Congressional District Runoff: Amanda Edwards Deserves This Seat - December 18, 2025
- Turnout, Trust, and Ground Game: What Decided Houston’s Runoff Elections - December 14, 2025
- When Power Doesn’t Need Permission: Nigeria and the Collapse of a Gambian Coup Plot - December 14, 2025
Anthony Obi Ogbo
When Power Doesn’t Need Permission: Nigeria and the Collapse of a Gambian Coup Plot
“Power does not always announce itself; sometimes it prevents chaos simply by being present.“ —Anthony Obi Ogbo
A failed coup attempt in The Gambia reveals how Nigeria’s understated military, diplomatic, and intelligence influence continues to shape West African stability—without spectacle, but with unmistakable authority.
The attempted destabilization of The Gambia—quickly neutralized before it could mature into a full-blown coup—served as a quiet but powerful reminder of how regional power is exercised in West Africa today. While social media narratives raced ahead with exaggerated claims and half-truths, the reality underscored a familiar pattern: Nigeria remains the pivotal stabilizing force in the sub-region, especially when the democratic order is threatened.
Unlike the dramatic coups that have unsettled parts of the Sahel, the Gambian plot never gained momentum. It faltered not by accident, but by deterrence. Intelligence sharing, diplomatic signaling, and the unmistakable shadow of regional consequences helped shut the door before conspirators could walk through it. At the center of that deterrence was Nigeria—acting through ECOWAS mechanisms, bilateral security coordination, and its long-established role as the region’s security backbone.
Nigeria’s influence in The Gambia is not a new phenomenon. From the 2017 post-election crisis, when Nigerian forces formed the backbone of the ECOWAS Mission in The Gambia (ECOMIG), to ongoing security cooperation, Abuja has consistently demonstrated that unconstitutional power grabs will not be tolerated in its neighborhood. The recent coup attempt—however embryonic—was measured against that historical memory. The message was clear: the region has seen this movie before, and Nigeria knows how it ends.
What is notable is not just Nigeria’s military weight, but its strategic restraint. There were no dramatic troop movements or chest-thumping announcements. Instead, Nigeria’s power was exercised through quiet pressure, coordinated intelligence, and credible threat of collective action. That subtlety is often overlooked in an era obsessed with spectacle, but it is precisely what makes Nigerian influence effective. Power does not always announce itself; sometimes it prevents chaos simply by being present.
The Gambian coup flop also exposes a wider truth about West Africa’s information ecosystem. Rumors travel faster than facts, and failed plots are often retrofitted into heroic or conspiratorial narratives. Yet the absence of tanks on the streets and the continuity of constitutional governance speak louder than viral posts.
In a region grappling with democratic backsliding, Nigeria’s role remains decisive. The Gambian episode reinforces a hard reality for would-be putschists: while coups may succeed in pockets of instability, they are far less likely to survive in spaces where Nigeria’s regional influence—political, military, and diplomatic—still draws firm red lines.
The failed coup attempt in The Gambia is a blunt reminder that real power in West Africa does not always announce itself with tanks, gunfire, or televised bravado. Sometimes it arrives quietly—and when it does, it often carries Nigeria’s imprint. While social media chased rumors and inflated conspiracy theories, the reality was far less dramatic and far more decisive: the plot collapsed because the regional cost of success was simply too high.
Unlike the coups that have torn through parts of the Sahel, the Gambian attempt never found momentum. It was stopped not by chance, but by deterrence. Intelligence sharing, diplomatic signaling, and the unspoken certainty of ECOWAS intervention closed the door before it could open. At the center of that deterrence stood Nigeria, operating through regional institutions and long-established security relationships. Abuja did not need to issue threats; its history spoke for itself.
Nigeria’s influence in The Gambia is rooted in memory. In 2017, Nigerian forces formed the backbone of the ECOWAS Mission, which enforced the electoral will and prevented a democratic collapse. That precedent still haunts would-be putschists. They know how this story ends, and they know who writes the final chapter.
What makes Nigeria’s power effective is not just military superiority, but strategic restraint. There were no dramatic troop movements or chest-thumping speeches—only quiet pressure, coordinated intelligence, and credible readiness. In a region addicted to spectacle, this restraint is often mistaken for weakness. It is not.
The Gambian coup flop also exposes the toxicity of the information space, where fiction outruns fact. But governance is not decided online. It is decided by institutions, alliances, and forces that do not need permission to matter. The message to plotters is brutal and clear: coups may succeed where chaos reigns, but they rarely survive where Nigeria still draws the red lines.
♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015) and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us
- Texas’ 18th Congressional District Runoff: Amanda Edwards Deserves This Seat - December 18, 2025
- Turnout, Trust, and Ground Game: What Decided Houston’s Runoff Elections - December 14, 2025
- When Power Doesn’t Need Permission: Nigeria and the Collapse of a Gambian Coup Plot - December 14, 2025
“Humility is the anchor that keeps greatness from drifting into delusion.“ —Anthony Obi Ogbo
Fame is a dangerous flame. It warms, it dazzles, and if you hold it too close, it burns straight through the layers of judgment that keep a person grounded. In its hottest glow, fame convinces artists that applause is permanent, talent is immunity, and fans are disposable. Arrogance doesn’t erupt overnight—it grows in the quiet corners of unchecked power, in entourages that never challenge, and in audiences that forgive too easily. But the world has a way of reminding every superstar of one brutal truth: no one is too famous to fall.
This season, Burna Boy is learning that lesson in real time. The Grammy-winning giant—hailed globally as the “African Giant”—is now facing one of the most dramatic reputational meltdowns of his career. Five U.S. arena dates on his NSOW Tour have reportedly been cancelled due to poor ticket sales and a fierce wave of fan backlash following his Denver debacle. What was supposed to be another triumphant American tour has spiraled into an expensive public relations disaster.
It all ignited on November 12, 2025, at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Colorado. The show started late. Energy was high. Then Burna Boy spotted a woman in the front row who had fallen asleep. Instead of performing through it, he halted the show, called her out publicly, ordered her partner to “take her home,” and refused to continue until they left. The humiliation would have been bad enough on its own. But later reports revealed she wasn’t drunk or uninterested—she was exhausted, mourning the recent death of her daughter’s father.
The internet demanded empathy. Burna responded with contempt. A sleeping fan, he said, “pisses me the f*** off.” And then the line that detonated the backlash: “I never asked anybody to be my fan.” Those ten words may become the most expensive sentence of his career.
This wasn’t an isolated flare-up. Burna Boy has long danced on the edge of arrogance, and the public has kept receipts. In 2019, he halted a performance in Atlanta to eject a fan who wasn’t dancing—handing the man money and telling him to leave. In Lagos in 2021, a fan who attempted an innocent stage hug was shoved off by security, sparking outrage over excessive force and coldness.
The following year was worse. In 2022, his security team was accused of firing shots in a nightclub after a woman allegedly rejected him, injuring multiple patrons and triggering legal headaches that trailed him for months. Fast-forward to January 2023: at his “Love, Damini” concert in Lagos, he arrived hours late, berated the crowd, and left fans feeling disrespected and insulted.
By 2025, the pattern was undeniable. He kicked a fan offstage during a New Year’s performance. Months later, he brought a Colorado concert to a standstill until an “unengaged” couple was escorted out. The incidents piled up, painting a portrait of an artist increasingly out of touch with the people who made him a global phenomenon.
This latest incident, however, has delivered the sharpest consequence yet: the U.S. market—a notoriously unforgiving arena—has pushed back.
Cancelled shows. Sparse crowds. Boycotts. Refund demands.
For perhaps the first time, an African artist of Burna Boy’s magnitude is experiencing a full-force American-style public accountability storm.
If African entertainers are paying attention, they should treat this moment as a case study in how fame can be mismanaged.
The first lesson: Fan value is sacred. Fans are not props. They are not subjects. They are not inconveniences in an artist’s emotional universe. They are customers, supporters, ambassadors, and—most importantly—the foundation on which every stage, every award, and every paycheck rests.
The second: Empathy is not optional. A superstar who cannot pause long enough to consider that a fan might be grieving, ill, exhausted, or battling something unseen is a superstar who has forgotten the humanity at the core of all art.
The third: Professionalism is currency. Arriving late, publicly shaming fans, halting shows, and weaponizing power in moments of irritation are choices that corrode trust. And once trust is broken, even a global superstar can watch ticket sales collapse in real-time.
Burna Boy is an extraordinary artist—brilliant, groundbreaking, and influential. His musical legacy is secure. But greatness in artistry is not the same as greatness in character. Fame tests the latter far more than it rewards it. And the spotlight, no matter how bright, does not protect anyone from the consequences of their own behavior.Humility is the anchor that keeps greatness from drifting into delusion. Burna Boy’s current storm is a brutal reminder that talent without restraint can become tyranny, and fame without introspection can become a curse. Artists rise because people believe in them, invest in them, and support them. When that respect is abused, loyalty evaporates. The lesson is stark: the higher the pedestal, the harder the fall—and the fall always comes. What matters is not the applause you command, but the humanity you maintain long after the music stops.
♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015) and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us
- Texas’ 18th Congressional District Runoff: Amanda Edwards Deserves This Seat - December 18, 2025
- Turnout, Trust, and Ground Game: What Decided Houston’s Runoff Elections - December 14, 2025
- When Power Doesn’t Need Permission: Nigeria and the Collapse of a Gambian Coup Plot - December 14, 2025
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