In Nigeria, politics isn’t just politics—it’s premium entertainment, reality TV, and unending drama rolled into one. From party defections that look like romantic breakups to overnight godfather betrayals, Nigeria’s political landscape is less about ideology and more about who’s playing chess with the loudest pawns.
Welcme to Nigerian politics—where the drama never ends and the plot twists can rival any Nollywood classic.
Where Are the Ideologies?
Let’s be honest—do Nigerian political parties even have ideologies?
In theory, yes. Parties like the APC (All Progressives Congress) and PDP (People’s Democratic Party) claim to stand for different things. But in practice, many Nigerian politicians have turned party membership into a seasonal garment by switching parties faster than a Big Brother contestant changes alliances.
You’ll hear things like:
“I have returned to where my people are.”
“I was pushed out.”
“The party has lost focus.”
Translation? “I didn’t get the ticket.”
The Great Defection Festival in Nigeria
Every election season, Nigeria hosts an unofficial festival: The Great Political Defection. Politicians cross carpets with zero shame, turning opposition into allies and foes into friends overnight.
A PDP senator on Monday could be an APC governor by Friday—and nobody bats an eyelid.
It’s less about vision and more about “Where is the power shifting to?” This is not politics of conviction. It’s politics of convenience.
Nigerian Godfathers and Puppets
Another juicy layer of the drama? Godfatherism.
In some states, a former governor can practically handpick his successor. But it doesn’t end there. When the godson refuses to stay loyal? All hell breaks loose. Allegations fly. EFCC becomes active. Party meetings turn into royal rumbles.
We’ve seen this movie many times: powerful godfathers playing puppeteers behind the scenes—until the puppets cut their strings.
Factions, Parallel Primaries & Courtroom Politics
Party primaries in Nigeria deserve their own Netflix docuseries.
There’s always:
One primary here, another one across the street.
Candidates winning in two different venues at the same time.
Suspensions that last two hours and are reversed by a 3 a.m. press release.
Before you know it, internal factions emerge, legal battles ensue, and by the time the courts decide, it’s election week.
We don’t vote based on manifestos—we vote based on who survived the drama.
Social Media and the New Age Power Play
With the rise of platforms like Twitter/X and TikTok, political drama is no longer confined to newspapers. Now, politicians clap back online, their children throw shade in coded tweets, and “Anonymous Sources” leak WhatsApp screenshots.
Young Nigerians are watching, laughing, cringing—but also documenting.
This digital exposure is slowly shifting the tide. It’s no longer enough to just shout “my people, my people”—we want receipts.
But Here’s the Intrigue…
Despite all the drama, Nigerians still show up—hopeful, cynical, but present. We argue, debate, drag, vote (or refuse to), and complain. Why?
Because underneath all the madness, there’s a desire for something better.
We don’t want recycled slogans or agbada politics—we want leaders with integrity, empathy, and a real plan. Until then, the drama continues.
Final Thoughts: Drama Is a Symptom, Not the Disease
The constant drama in Nigeria’s political parties is not just about ego battles—it’s a symptom of a deeper issue: the absence of ideological foundations, transparent structures, and a culture of accountability.
Until political parties in Nigeria evolve beyond personality cults and power-grabbing cliques, the drama will never end. But the good news? The audience (a.k.a. the Nigerian people) is waking up—and they’re no longer clapping for the wrong actors.
The stage is set. The script can change.
But only if we demand better.
