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
“Buhari’s legacy is not a national treasure—it is a cautionary tale of tyranny cloaked in uniform and democracy.” —Anthony Obi Ogbo
In many cultures, including mine, it’s considered immoral to speak ill of the dead. But tradition should never demand silence in the face of truth, especially when that truth is soaked in blood, broken promises, and the battered dignity of a nation. General Muhammadu Buhari, former military dictator and two-term civilian president of Nigeria, has finally departed this world. He died in London, a city he frequented not as a diplomat or global statesman, but as a medical tourist—fleeing the ruins of a healthcare system he helped wreck with decades of authoritarianism, tribalism, and economic blundering.
Muhammadu Buhari emerged from the rotten womb of Nigeria’s corrupt military order — a regime where brute force outweighed intellect, and the rattle of an AK-47 silenced the rule of law. In this twisted hierarchy, competent officers were buried in clerical backrooms while semi-literate loyalists were handed stars, stripes, and unchecked authority. It was a theater of mediocrity, where promotion favored obedience over merit and ignorance was rewarded with rank. Within this structure of absurdity, Buhari thrived — a man with no verifiable high school certificate, yet elevated above the constitution, above accountability, and tragically, above the very people he was meant to serve. He didn’t just symbolize the decay; he was its product and its champion.
Let’s not sugarcoat his legacy. Buhari was no hero. He was a man whose grip on power twice disfigured Nigeria’s soul — first with military boots from 1983 to 1985, then under the guise of democracy from 2015 to 2023. His government jailed journalists, brutalized citizens, crippled the economy, and widened tribal divisions with unapologetic bias. His infamous Decree No. 2 sanctioned indefinite detentions. His so-called “War Against Indiscipline” terrorized the innocent. His economic policies were textbook disasters.
Buhari governed with the cold logic of a tyrant who believed brute force was a substitute for vision — and silence a substitute for accountability. The Southeast, in particular, bore the brunt of his vengeance-laced leadership. His disdain for the Igbo people was barely concealed, a poisonous remnant of civil war bitterness he never let go. In his death, that venom remains unresolved, unrepentant.
Let the record reflect that many of us do not weep. We remember.
Even more damning is the legacy of hypocrisy. After decades in power and access to untold national wealth, Buhari could not trust the hospitals he left for ordinary Nigerians. He died where he lived his truth — in exile from the very system he swore to fix. That is not irony. That is an indictment.
And now, as scripted eulogies pour in — from paid loyalists, political survivors, and the ever-hypocritical elite — let us not be fooled by the hollow rituals of state burials and national mourning. Let the record reflect that many of us do not weep. We remember.
- We remember the students gunned down.
- The protesters beaten in the streets.
- The journalists silenced.
- The dreams buried beneath military decrees and broken campaign promises.
We remember that Buhari was not simply a failed leader — he was a deliberate one, whose failings were not accidents but strategies.
And so, here lie the cold remains of one of Nigeria’s most divisive and mean-spirited leaders — a man who brutalized the democratic process with the precision of a tyrant and the coldness of a man utterly void of remorse. As Muhammadu Buhari begins his final, silent descent into the earth, one can only imagine him entering eternity still questioning the justice of creation: Why did God make women? Why did He place oil in the Niger Delta and not in Daura? And why, of all things, did He dare to create tribes outside the Fulani?
It is not my job to mourn a dictator. My duty is to chronicle them — how they ruled with iron fists, trampled their people, choked the press, and finally died, not as legends, but as small men stripped of all illusions. Dictators are counterfeit gods, tormenting peaceful nations while their delusions last. But sickness humbles them. Death silences them. And in the end, all their grandstanding collapses like dust in a grave.
As a journalist, I will record Buhari’s death with precision, not reverence. I will report the pomp, the propaganda, and the hollow eulogies that will rain down like cheap perfume on a corpse. I will write the truth, because history must never confuse power with greatness — especially when evil wore both the uniform and the ballot.
Let the living learn. Let the wicked sleep. And let the truth outlive them all.
I will not mourn a man who ruled through fear and died surrounded by foreign doctors while his people die waiting in overcrowded hospital corridors. I will not pretend this is a time for unity or healing. This is a time for reckoning. For too long, Nigeria has recycled tyrants and renamed oppression “leadership.” Buhari’s death should not be a moment of forced reverence but a pause for honest reflection. Let his final chapter be a lesson carved into our collective memory: that power without purpose, and rule without empathy, always ends in disgrace. History should not be kind to tyrants simply because they are no longer breathing. If we are ever to break the chains of corruption and cruelty, we must bury the lies with the bodies — and speak truth, even at the graveside. Let the living learn. Let the wicked sleep. And let the truth outlive them all.
♦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
Anthony Obi Ogbo
Dunamis Digital Dilemma: Why Shutting Down Virtual Worship May Alienate a New Generation of Believers
“Spirituality is no longer confined to physical sanctuaries” —Anthony Obi Ogbo
The demands of the digital and virtual age, especially in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, are both undeniable and irreversible. The pandemic didn’t merely disrupt norms—it reshaped them. From global commerce to education and religious observance, the shift to digital platforms is now a defining feature of contemporary life. The surge in e-commerce has revolutionized how consumers behave, compelling organizations to reinvent their digital presence through social media, targeted marketing, and immersive experiences like augmented and virtual reality.
Yet, while many institutions have adapted to these realities, some remain entrenched in pre-pandemic mindsets. One recent example is the Dunamis International Gospel Centre in Abuja, Nigeria, under the leadership of Pastor Paul Enenche. The church announced the suspension of its live-streamed services, citing the biblical imperative for believers to gather physically, as referenced in Hebrews 10:25.
While the theological rationale was emphasized, the practical implications—particularly financial—were conspicuously understated. Churches around the world have successfully embraced virtual platforms not just to foster spiritual connection but also to maintain financial stability through online giving systems. In contrast, Dunamis’s move appears to prioritize physical attendance at the expense of accessibility and inclusivity.
In today’s digitally integrated society, suspending virtual worship risks alienating many who have come to rely on these platforms. Individuals with health challenges, mobility issues, or who live far from church facilities depend on livestreams to remain spiritually connected. More importantly, younger generations increasingly seek faith experiences that mirror their digital-first realities—flexible, inclusive, and globally accessible. By disregarding these expectations, churches may unintentionally push away the very audiences they aim to engage.
Pastor Enenche’s decision, while perhaps grounded in spiritual intent, may prove counterproductive in practice. The younger demographic—tech-savvy, mobile, and globally aware—now expects more from institutions of faith. They are turning toward worship centers that treat digital engagement not as an afterthought but as a vital dimension of spiritual life. The hybrid church model—integrating both in-person and online elements—has emerged as a powerful strategy for expanding reach while honoring traditional values. It allows churches to be both rooted and relevant.
The decision to suspend livestreaming church services reflects a deeper tension between tradition and innovation, between preserving ritual and adapting to contemporary realities. Faith institutions today are not just places of worship; they are also cultural anchors navigating an increasingly digital society. Ignoring this evolution risks rendering the church irrelevant to a generation that lives, works, and worships online. Spirituality is no longer confined to physical sanctuaries—it’s present in podcast sermons, Zoom prayer meetings, WhatsApp devotionals, and YouTube gospel concerts.
Virtual engagement is not a dilution of faith; it is an extension of it. It makes the message of hope and redemption accessible across boundaries of geography, ability, and circumstance. The pandemic revealed this, but the future will demand it. Churches that fail to embrace digital tools risk becoming spiritual silos—isolated, inflexible, and out of touch with modern believers.
Leadership in ministry, like leadership in any other sphere, must evolve with the people it seeks to serve. Pastor Enenche and others in similar positions should not view digital transformation as a threat but as an opportunity—an opportunity to reach farther, touch deeper, and uplift more lives. The gospel, after all, is meant for all—and now, more than ever, everywhere.
♦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
“Employers aren’t just filling vacancies—they’re investing in solutions” —Anthony Obi Ogbo
Long before graduation, I understood that success in the job market required more than just a degree. Throughout college, I committed to internships, apprenticeships, and vacation jobs—some unpaid—solely to build the kind of professional experience that would ease my transition into the workforce. By the time I completed my NYSC at The Nigerian Guardian, I wasn’t just another fresh graduate—I was a candidate with proof of performance. I was retained on merit and even offered two cartoon columns at Guardian Express in a separate contract. That preparation made all the difference.
Today, however, many college graduates enter the job market unequipped for its demands. They speak of rejection, frustration, and a lack of experience—all valid concerns in an economy where employers no longer train novice hires from scratch. In a hyper-competitive, fast-paced, and increasingly skills-based market, the burden of preparation rests squarely on the students themselves.
There was a time when being a “novice” came with room to grow. Employers saw potential and invested in it. Now, entry-level roles often come with mid-level expectations: practical skills, strategic thinking, and an ability to contribute from day one. Employers aren’t just filling vacancies—they’re investing in solutions.
This is why it’s crucial for students to begin preparing early. That means building portfolios, seeking field-relevant internships, volunteering in areas that sharpen communication and leadership, and using every academic project as a springboard for real-world insight. These experiences add depth to a résumé and provide talking points in interviews that distinguish candidates from the crowd.
Equally important is networking. The relationships students build—with mentors, professionals, or peers—often become the very bridges that connect them to employment opportunities.
Ultimately, preparing for employment as a college student isn’t optional—it’s essential. And the sooner students begin, the better their chances of entering the workforce with confidence, clarity, and competence.
♦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