There is a Yoruba proverb that warns: A kì í fi ojú kan sán’na fún ajá tí yó pa ni, meaning you do not light the path for the dog that will bite you. Yet, the Peoples Democratic Party has not only lit the path for its saboteurs, but it has also rolled out a red carpet, served them cocktails, and handed them microphones to announce their betrayal.
As the party stumbles towards its November 15 convention in Ibadan, the question is no longer whether it can survive its contradictions, but whether it even desires to. The silence of its institutions, the timidity of its leadership, and the brazenness of its renegades suggest not crisis but capitulation. What was once a political cathedral now resembles a mausoleum; its pillars cracked, its altar desecrated, its priests too frightened to excommunicate the heretics.
This descent into chaos is not sudden. It is the harvest of years of deferred decisions, compromises dressed up as consensus, and a leadership that mistook cowardice for strategy. The present crisis – conflicting court orders, factional ultimatums, and a ceremonial NEC — is merely the latest chapter in a long story of decay. Two courts, two cities, two verdicts. Abuja says the convention must not hold; Ibadan insists it must. The PDP, caught between these judicial horns, bleats like a goat unsure which butcher to obey. For a party that once boasted of ruling for sixty years, it now struggles to survive sixty days of coherence.
And now the final nail: the full factionalisation of the PDP. Mao Ohuabunwa emerged as chairman of the Board of Trustees of the Wike faction, giving institutional form to what was once just a band of dissenters. This is no longer a quarrel of personalities; it is a structural split. Two factions, two chairmen, two conventions. Which will INEC recognise? Which court order will prevail? And what happens if both factions proceed with parallel gatherings? At the eye of the storm is the Minister of the FCT, Nyesom Wike, and the party’s most flamboyant paradox. His six-point ultimatum — delivered like a ransom note — has thrown the PDP into a tailspin. Fresh congresses in Ebonyi and Anambra. Recognition of Calabar’s South-South congress. Compliance with Ekiti court orders. No micro-zoning. Retention of chairmanship in North-Central. And a warning: fail to comply, and the convention is invalid. Now, with Ohunabuwa as his factional chairman, Wike has moved from threat to execution. He has built a parallel altar and ordained his own priest.
Wike’s demands are not suggestions; they are declarations of war. Yet, the PDP’s response has been bravado laced with bewilderment. Governor Bala Mohammed thundered, “If anybody wants to form a faction of fools, we will allow him.” But thunder without lightning is theatre. The real tragedy is not the fools — it is the men without balls because so far, there’s not a single superwoman mentioned in this fray — to confront them. The NEC, once the party’s moral compass, now resembles a ceremonial choir, singing unity hymns while the roof caves in. It approved the convention date and zoning formula, yes. But when challenged, it retreated, leaving the NWC to absorb the blows. Its authority reduced to a rubber stamp — inked by nostalgia, dried by irrelevance. Even Acting Chairman Umar Damagum seems caught in a loop of (ig)noble restraint. “I chose restraint, not out of weakness, but as a conscious sacrifice,” he said. But in Nigerian politics, restraint without resolve is surrender. The PDP does not need martyrs. It needs managers.
Wike’s faction — “Eminent Leaders and Concerned Stakeholders” — has weaponised ambiguity. They claim loyalty while undermining the process. They attend meetings but issue communiqués from private residences. They demand inclusivity but insist on conditions that exclude dissent. Now, with Ohunabuwa’s coronation, ambiguity has hardened into schism. The PDP is no longer one party; it is two tents pitched on the same sinking ground. And the NEC watches. Internal democracy, once the PDP’s pride, now resembles a hostage situation. The NEC has outsourced discipline to press releases. The NWC, caught between appeasement and paralysis, is a punching bag for factions that no longer fear consequences. Chief Bode George summed it up: “Besides his ranting, what else do you think he can do?” It is a rhetorical shrug that captures the party’s mood — fatigued, frustrated, and fundamentally unsure of its own boundaries.
But Wike is not alone. His faction includes Ortom, Fayose, Ikpeazu, Ugwuanyi — not fringe players, but seasoned politicians with deep networks. Their demands are existential. They seek to redefine the PDP’s power structure, not merely participate in it. And now, with Ohunabuwa as their chairman, they have a platform to match their ambition. Governors Bala Mohammed and Ahmadu Fintiri have vowed to enforce discipline. But governors are not the NEC. Their authority is regional, not institutional. Without NEC backing, their declarations risk becoming soundbites — loud but hollow. The BoT has weighed in. Senator Adolphus Wabara, through Ahmed Makarfi, warned that the majority will not be held hostage by a few. But warnings without enforcement are echoes in a canyon of chaos. There is a fable about a lion who refused to roar. He believed silence was strength. But the hyenas mistook it for weakness, encroached on his territory, mocked his pride, and chased him from his den. The PDP is that lion. And the hyenas are no longer at the gate — they are inside, rearranging the furniture.
If the convention holds, it will be less a celebration of unity than a coronation of confusion. INEC will be forced to choose which faction’s delegates to recognise. If it sides with Damagum’s NEC, Wike’s faction will cry foul, litigate, and possibly stage a walkout. If it recognises Ohunabuwa’s faction, the mainstream PDP will declare the convention hijacked. Either way, the courts will be flooded with suits, and the party will emerge weaker, not stronger. Holding the convention may give the illusion of progress, but it risks deepening the schism and producing parallel executives whose legitimacy will be contested in both law and politics. If the convention is suspended under judicial pressure, the PDP will confirm its paralysis. The NEC will look spineless, the NWC rudderless, and the BoT irrelevant. Wike’s faction will claim victory, arguing that its ultimatum forced the postponement. Damagum’s camp will insist it was respecting the rule of law. But to the public, the optics will be damning: a party too divided to even gather under one roof. Non-holding of the convention will not heal wounds; it will deepen cynicism, embolden defectors, and accelerate the PDP’s slide into irrelevance.
In politics, absence is not neutrality — it is surrender. The most chaotic scenario is also the most likely: two conventions, two chairmen, two sets of resolutions. One in Ibadan under Damagum, another under Ohunabuwa, and Wike’s faction. INEC will be forced into Solomon’s dilemma: which baby to claim, which mother to recognise. The courts will issue contradictory orders, each faction brandishing its own certificate of legitimacy. The PDP will fracture irreparably, becoming a federation of factions rather than a national party. Parallel conventions will not just split the PDP — they will splinter its soul. And from the shards, new parties may rise, born not of ideology but of necessity.
The Ibadan convention, whether it holds, stalls, or splinters, is more than a partisan drama. It is a stress test of Nigeria’s democratic institutions. The PDP’s crisis is not just about zoning formulas or factional egos; it is about whether political parties can still serve as vehicles of representation, or whether they have become mere platforms for personal ambition. The first arbiter will be INEC. Its recognition of one faction over another will shape the legitimacy of whatever convention emerges. The second arbiter will be the courts, already issuing contradictory orders that turn the judiciary into a battlefield. The third arbiter will be the electorate, watching with weary cynicism as a party that once promised sixty years of dominance now struggles to survive 60 days of coherence. The danger is not merely that the PDP collapses. It is that Nigeria’s democracy loses its balance. A ruling party without a credible challenger becomes complacent. Institutions without competition become hollow. Citizens without alternatives become apathetic. And apathy, in politics, is the prelude to authoritarianism.
The PDP must rediscover discipline. Its NEC must reclaim authority. Its NWC must enforce rules. Its BoT must act as conscience, not chorus. INEC must be decisive, not evasive. And above all, the party must remember that conventions are not carnivals — they are covenants. Nigeria needs a strong opposition. Not for nostalgia, but for necessity. Democracy thrives on contestation, not coronation. The PDP’s convention in Ibadan is not just about who chairs the party — it is about whether opposition politics can still matter in Nigeria. If the PDP fails, it will not just bury itself. It will weaken the republic.
The Yoruba say: Àgbà tó bá jẹ́ kó má bàjẹ́, ó ní kó má bàjẹ́ nílé èèyàn — an elder who insists on preserving dignity must begin at home. The PDP must begin at home. Ibadan is not just a venue; it is a crucible. It will decide whether the party is still a house of elders or merely a gathering of jesters.
The convention is not about Damagum or Ohunabuwa, not about zoning or ultimatums. It is about whether the PDP can still matter in Nigeria’s democratic equation. If it fails, it will not just bury itself — it will weaken the republic by leaving the ruling party unchallenged, the institutions untested, and the citizens without alternatives. Opposition is not a luxury; it is the oxygen of democracy. Without it, power becomes complacent, corruption becomes entrenched, and citizens become spectators in their own republic.
The PDP must decide whether to roar again or to die in silence. Ibadan will tell the story. And history will remember — not the excuses, not the ultimatums, but the courage or cowardice of a party that once promised sixty years of dominance and now fights for 60 minutes of relevance.
Like that Yoruba proverb again: Aje ke l’ana, omo ku l’eni — the witch cried last night, the child died this morning. The PDP has heard the cry. Whether it lets the child die is now in its hands.
