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
“Jonathan’s calculated and weaponized ambiguity breeds deception and weakens emerging political alliances.” —Dr. Anthony Obi Ogbo
Former Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan has once again found himself at the center of presidential speculation, floating silently above the country’s political waters while supporters aggressively market him as a possible candidate ahead of another critical election cycle. And once again, Jonathan is doing what he has mastered throughout his political career: saying nothing clearly while allowing political confusion to grow around him.
This pattern is not new. It is the same indecisive political behavior that defined some of the most consequential moments of his rise and fall. Jonathan became president in 2010 following the death of President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua. At the time, many northern political stakeholders within the then-ruling PDP believed there was an informal understanding that Jonathan would complete Yar’Adua’s term but not seek another full term in 2011, thereby preserving the party’s zoning arrangement between North and South. Instead of taking a clear and immediate position, Jonathan spent months dribbling the nation politically. He neither fully denied nor openly confirmed his intentions until the political tension had already escalated nationwide.
By the time he eventually declared his candidacy, the damage had been done. Many northern allies who initially supported him felt betrayed, politically cornered, or deceived. The PDP fractured internally, regional distrust deepened, and Jonathan’s relationship with major northern power blocs deteriorated permanently. Though he won the 2011 election, the cracks created by that indecision followed him into 2015, contributing significantly to the coalition that eventually removed him from power.
Yet Jonathan learned little from that experience. Since losing reelection in 2015, his name has repeatedly surfaced during every major electoral cycle as a potential presidential contender. Each time, his supporters strategically floated his candidacy across media platforms and political circles. Each time, Jonathan refused to decisively shut the door. Silence became his political instrument, whereas ambiguity became his strategy.
Now the country is witnessing the same playbook again. As coalition politics intensify and opposition forces attempt to consolidate around alternative political movements, Jonathan’s name has resurfaced aggressively. Reports and speculations about his presidential ambition continue to dominate political discussions, especially within camps seeking to disrupt the growing momentum surrounding Peter Obi and emerging opposition realignments.
The troubling part is not merely that Jonathan’s supporters are campaigning. The troubling part is that Jonathan fully understands the implications of his silence. He knows that his political stature carries enough weight to destabilize fragile coalition negotiations. He knows his name alone can divide campaign structures, weaken consensus-building, and inject uncertainty into opposition calculations. Yet he refuses to publicly and definitively state where he stands.
That is not statesmanship. That is calculated political ambiguity. Jonathan’s political history is filled with similarly contradictory choices. After losing power in 2015, he received widespread praise for conceding defeat peacefully. He initially framed that decision as a sacrifice made to preserve Nigerian lives and prevent violence. Later, however, different narratives emerged suggesting international pressure, particularly from the United States under President Obama. The shifting explanations weakened what could have remained one of his strongest democratic legacies.
Then came another contradiction. Despite emerging politically from the PDP, Jonathan gradually aligned himself closely with the administration of former President Muhammadu Buhari, serving in diplomatic and goodwill capacities that many PDP loyalists considered politically inappropriate. This unusual closeness fueled longstanding allegations that elements within the APC establishment viewed Jonathan as a useful political instrument capable of destabilizing opposition coalitions from within. Whether those allegations are true or not, Jonathan’s conduct has consistently created room for suspicion.
His political base remains uncertain. His campaign structure is invisible.
Today, his undeclared ambition is already generating confusion among supporters, coalition organizers, and opposition strategists. His political base remains uncertain. His campaign structure is invisible. His intentions are unclear. Yet his loyalists continue mobilizing aggressively in his name while he watches silently from the shadows.
Nigeria is too politically fragile for this kind of elite gamesmanship. At critical national moments, leadership demands clarity, courage, and accountability. Jonathan cannot continue operating as a permanent “maybe” in Nigeria’s political future, thoughtlessly hovering around every election season like an unanswered question designed to manipulate negotiations and weaken emerging alliances.
At this time, Jonathan should sit in or sit out! If he wants to run, he should declare openly, defend his record, and face the democratic process directly. If he does not intend to run, he should immediately and publicly withdraw his name from the political marketplace. Anything short of that increasingly looks less like political strategy and more like calculated deception. Nigeria deserves leaders who make difficult choices openly—not politicians who weaponize silence while others gamble with national uncertainty in their name.
♦ 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
Nigeria’s Forgotten Sacrifice and the Tragedy of Xenophobia in South Africa
As George Santayana famously warned, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” The unfolding xenophobic tensions in South Africa reflect more than economic strain; they reveal a deeper crisis of memory and meaning. When history fades, gratitude dissolves, and fear replaces solidarity. The violence directed at fellow Africans is not merely social unrest; it is a philosophical failure to reconcile past sacrifice with present identity, reminding us that nations, like individuals, must remember to remain whole.
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I recall that when I was in college in Nigeria, all Southern African students, present in substantial numbers, were on full federal government scholarships and received an additional income called a bursary. They lived better than many Nigerians; some even drove cars. Many adopted Nigerian names, assimilated seamlessly, and secured opportunities with ease, while Nigerian graduates faced rising unemployment. It was a quiet but powerful demonstration of solidarity, Nigeria investing in the future of a region still shackled by apartheid.
Today, that history feels almost erased.
For years now, waves of xenophobic attacks in South Africa, often targeting Nigerians, and more recently Ghanaians and other African nationals, have revealed a troubling pattern: violence fueled by economic frustration, misinformation, and historical amnesia. Shops are looted, homes burned, and lives disrupted under the recurring claim that “foreigners are taking jobs.” Yet this narrative collapses under even the most basic scrutiny of history.
Nigeria was not a bystander in South Africa’s liberation; it was a central force.
Under the military leadership of Olusegun Obasanjo, Nigeria became the first country in history to boycott the Commonwealth Games in protest against apartheid. That decision was not symbolic; it was costly, bold, and globally consequential. Obasanjo went further, advocating a continental defense posture and proposing what he termed a “Black bomb,” a radical idea reflecting the urgency of protecting African sovereignty against external aggression.
Nigeria’s commitment extended beyond rhetoric. During the Ibrahim Babangida regime, South Africa sought to exert strategic influence in Equatorial Guinea, offering infrastructure support before the discovery of oil. Nigeria recognized the geopolitical implications and decisively intervened, severing ties and offering its own support. The situation escalated to the point where Equatorial Guinea petitioned Nigeria at the United Nations for intervention. Nigeria did not retreat. This was not interference; it was protection. It was foresight. It was leadership.
Nigeria funded liberation movements, provided education, opened its economy, and bore economic sacrifices, including the nationalization of British Petroleum assets, to pressure the apartheid regime. These were not acts of charity; they were acts of conviction rooted in a vision of a free and united Africa.
And yet, decades later, Nigerians are hunted in the very land their country helped liberate.
The tragedy of xenophobia in South Africa is not merely about violence—it is about the collapse of historical consciousness. A generation disconnected from its past becomes vulnerable to manipulation, scapegoating, and misplaced anger. Economic hardship is real, but it does not justify the erasure of truth or the targeting of fellow Africans.
If history were remembered accurately, perhaps the conversation would be different. Perhaps the anger would be redirected toward structural inequalities rather than neighboring nationals. Perhaps the bonds of Pan-African solidarity would still hold.
But memory has faded, and in its absence, resentment has grown. Africa cannot afford selective memory. Nations that forget who stood with them in their darkest hours risk losing their moral compass in moments of crisis. Nigeria’s role in the liberation of South Africa is not a footnote—it is a foundation. To ignore it is to misunderstand both the past and the present.
Equally troubling is the persistent failure of successive South African governments to decisively confront and eradicate xenophobic violence. Such inaction, whether intentional or not, signals a dangerous tolerance, if not tacit endorsement, of these attacks, allowing them to recur with impunity. If brotherhood is to mean anything, it must be anchored in truth and reinforced by responsible leadership. And if Africa is to move forward, it must first remember and act.
♦ 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
The cost of this misalignment extends beyond politics and erodes the strength and perception of the Igbo brand itself — Dr. Anthony Ogbo
Few ethnic groups in the modern world embody resilience, adaptability, and entrepreneurial drive like the Igbo of southeastern Nigeria. Forged by history, particularly the trauma and aftermath of the Nigerian Civil War, the Igbo spirit has evolved into a global force defined by education, commerce, and labor. Across Africa, Europe, Asia, and the Americas, Igbo professionals, traders, academics, and innovators have exerted disproportionate influence. Their philosophy of self-determination, “Igbo enwe eze” (the Igbo have no king), has fostered a decentralized, merit-driven culture that rewards initiative and hard work.
In many respects, this dynamism mirrors that of the Jewish people. Like the Jews, the Igbo have leveraged education as a primary tool of advancement, often placing extraordinary value on academic achievement as a pathway to mobility. In commerce, both groups demonstrate remarkable networking capabilities, building trust-based systems that transcend geography. In labor, their willingness to start from the margins and climb through persistence is widely documented. These parallels are not superficial; they point to a shared cultural DNA rooted in survival, adaptability, and intellectual capital.
Yet this comparison begins to diverge in political cohesion and strategic alignment.
While Jewish communities globally have often demonstrated coordinated political engagement, aligning interests, influencing policy, and maintaining a unified voice, the Igbo have struggled to translate their economic and intellectual strength into sustained political power within Nigeria. This gap has had significant consequences, affecting not only their representation but also their broader cultural and national standing.
A critical example is their overwhelming support for Goodluck Jonathan in the 2011 and 2015 elections. While politically understandable at the time, this near-unanimous alignment left the Igbo politically exposed following his defeat in 2015. In the aftermath, many Igbo communities perceived a decline in federal inclusion and influence, reinforcing a sense of marginalization in Nigeria’s power structure.
This pattern appeared to repeat, albeit in a different form, with the passionate and often uncompromising support for Peter Obi in the 2023 elections. Obi’s candidacy energized millions, particularly among youth and the diaspora, and represented a shift toward issue-based politics. However, the “all-or-nothing” posture adopted by segments of his support base, both online and offline, arguably alienated potential allies across Nigeria’s diverse political landscape. What could have evolved into a broad coalition instead deepened ethnic and regional fault lines, weakening the strategic positioning of the Igbo in national politics.
Beyond electoral choices, the Igbo political challenge is also structural. The absence of a unified political leadership or central coordinating body has made it difficult to articulate and pursue long-term collective interests. Internal divisions, elite fragmentation, and the rise of competing advocacy voices, some constructive, others reactionary, have further complicated alignment. Additionally, separatist agitations, while rooted in legitimate grievances, have sometimes overshadowed pragmatic engagement with Nigeria’s political institutions, limiting opportunities for negotiation and influence.
The cost of this misalignment is not merely political; it touches the Igbo brand itself. A people known globally for enterprise and intellect risk being perceived domestically through a narrower lens of political disunity or agitation. This perception, whether fair or not, has implications for investment, partnerships, and national integration.
The way forward requires a recalibration, one that does not dilute Igbo identity but strengthens its strategic expression. First, there must be a deliberate effort to build political coalitions beyond ethnic lines. Nigeria’s complexity demands alliances; no single group can achieve national power in isolation. Second, Igbo leaders across business, academia, and civil society must converge on a shared political agenda that prioritizes inclusion, infrastructure, security, and economic development for the region within the Nigerian framework.
Third, political engagement must shift from emotional mobilization to strategic negotiation. This includes cultivating influence within major political parties, supporting diverse candidates across regions, and investing in long-term policy advocacy rather than election-cycle enthusiasm. Finally, the Igbo diaspora, arguably one of the most powerful in Africa, should be more intentionally integrated into political strategy, leveraging its global networks for both advocacy and investment.
Igbo dynamism remains undeniable. The challenge is not capacity, but coordination. If the same ingenuity that built global commercial networks can be applied to political alignment, the Igbo will not only preserve their cultural and economic stature but also secure a more decisive role in shaping Nigeria’s future.
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♦ Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is with the School of Communication, Texas Southern University. Dr. Ogbo is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is also the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015) and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us
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