Opinion
Government Without Opposition (III)
This is the concluding part of the article published last
Friday.
Financial and other material inducements are very effective
in gaining political influence in the country and this will likely remain so
for some time. The primary reason for this is that the social institutions for
the allocation of resources and opportunities in the country have failed and
there is poverty and dependency in the land.
An indication of
the seriousness of the dependency problem in the politics of the country is the
fact that the National Assembly had to address the issue of demands for money
and material gifts by members of their constituency particularly during festive
periods.
In the South West, some people talk of the ‘Amala Politics’,
to describe the situation in which politicians have to continuously feed their
followers daily particularly during elections. There are several accounts of
how the PDP government in the country
used financial inducement to buy votes during the April 2003 elections. At the
intra- or inter-party levels, contracts, financial rewards and appointments are
used to negotiate for political support.
The shameful behavior of AlhajiAbdulkadir, the former
National Chairman of the Alliance for Democracy, is an example of how material
inducements influence the political power game at the institutional level.
The financial inducement strategy is being used mainly by
the political entrepreneurs. This strategy as well as sentiment tends to shift
focus away from the issues and challenges in the country.
Therefore, one thing that the opposition groups can do is to
find ways to maintain focus on issues and problems. While financial inducements
and public service were designed to meet the material needs in a poverty
stricken society, sentimentalism as a political strategy to gain influence, is
designed to meet the emotional needs of the people.
Humanity in general places a lot of emphasis on their roots,
cultural identity and spiritual belief. Hence, ethnicity and/or tribalism and
religion are critical issues in politics in general. But it is particularly
more relevant in poor communities because in the absence of material holdings,
poor people always tend to guide their ethnic and religious identity as
essential resources without which their life will not have any meaning.
The political entrepreneurs in the country always take
advantage of these emotional needs by the people of the country while the needs
were most often neglected by the opposition groups.
Politicking is the last strategy of gaining political
influence. Politicking is essentially about socio-political relationships. That
is, the art of building political friendship and partnership based on
interests, goals and ideologies. This is an area in which I have come to
respect and admire the political entrepreneurs in the country.
The politicking that produced General Obasanjo as the
presidential candidate of the PDP in 1999 and 2003 is particularly commendable. It shows that the political
entrepreneurs in the country are highly sophisticated and disciplined, unlike
the opposition groups. They have the ability to make very important critical
concessions and to defer gratification.
In my opinion, it is the ability to play politics
objectively that actually separate the political entrepreneurs from their
opponents, many of who often place personal interests and sentiments far above
group goals.
One major weakness of the so-called progressives in the
country is their inability to accommodate alternative opinions. Because of
their dogmatic approach to politics, they exclude many people and institutions
that could help their cause. The opposition groups are often unrealistic in
their approach to politicking.
Making politics is very much the work of opposition parties
and the opposition parties specialize in making demands and criticisms, but
extremely weak when it comes to offering suggestions of substance and
demonstrate a spirit of bi-partisan cooperation in the national interest.
The important point is to realise that good talk, principled
actions and sound ideologies are not sufficient to make realistic political
impact in the real world. Money and election malpractices will continue to be
the dominant factors in the nation’s electoral system as long as the people are
poor and lack the capacity to make effective demand from government. The
opposition political groups have to support their principles and ideologies
with well-planned actions that will touch the lives of the people directly.
The political entrepreneurs and their cronies always
deliberately overestimate the intentions of the opposition with the aim of
intimidating them while also enhancing their own scope of maneuvering in
negotiations. The opposition, on the other hand, always seem to define their
interest too narrowly, thereby reducing their power and influence. To be effective,
the opposition must always strive to maximize its powers and influence. I
believe virile opposition, not politicking with our commonwealth, will make
government function properly and give democracy dividends to the downtrodden.
Dr Akpogena, a Christian devotional consultant, lives in
Port Harcourt.
Lewis Akpogena
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
