Trust is the ultimate currency of political patronage—both an honor to receive and a heavy burden to bear. When intact, it drives the wheels of power; but once shattered, it burns like an unquenchable fire. In the ruthless theater of Nigerian politics, the furnace of distrust swiftly consumes the vulnerable or the poorly fortified.....KINDLY READ THE FULL STORY HERE▶

Governor Siminalayi Fubara of Rivers State has just learned this bitter lesson. Much like other embattled godsons before him, Fubara failed to secure the All Progressives Congress (APC) governorship ticket for his second-term bid in the recently concluded Abuja primaries. From all indications, he was systematically schemed out during the screening exercise. This political eviction was partly a coordinated hit by his estranged godfather and FCT Minister, Nyesom Wike, alongside the APC national secretariat, and wholly a consequence of Fubara’s own strategic missteps.

Ironically, before his defection months ago, political fifth columnists touted Fubara as more popular on the ground than his benefactor. How that narrative disintegrated so rapidly speaks volumes; it highlights Wike’s masterful hijacking of the state’s party machinery rather than Fubara’s inability to govern.

Indeed, Wike has pulled off a legendary, perhaps unprecedented feat in Nigerian political history: openly fielding and controlling candidates across both the APC and the PDP lines simultaneously. For Fubara and Wike, the bridge is entirely burnt—a classic case where once trust is compromised, deep-seated distrust becomes inevitable.

The Mirage of Federal Protection

Whispers within political circles suggest that shortly after returning from a state of emergency, Fubara confided in President Bola Tinubu and key party secretariat members that he only desired a single term. While the governor has not officially confirmed this, his sudden, frantic pivot to secure a second-term ticket exposes the fluid, unpredictable nature of our political landscape.

In Nigeria, political godfathers often elevate loyal stooges on a wave of initial goodwill without testing their long-term loyalty, only to orchestrate their downfall at the slightest sign of independence. The Fubara-Wike fallout mirrors the 2018 Lagos APC primaries, where former Governor Akinwunmi Ambode was spectacularly humiliated by his own estranged godfathers. Interestingly, both Fubara and Ambode share a striking similarity: they were quiet, career civil service accountants plucked from obscurity by their mentors. There must be something uniquely appealing about accountants that makes godfathers view them as ideal proxies.

However, Fubara neglected a foundational rule of power. In his timeless classic, The 48 Laws of Power, Robert Greene counsels: “When asking for help, appeal to people’s self-interest, never to their mercy or gratitude.” Following President Tinubu’s initial intervention in the Rivers crisis, it was a grave, tactical miscalculation for Fubara to rely on Abuja for protection. Migrating toward the APC with his cards face-up, without extracting an ironclad, guaranteed endorsement, was a monumental risk.

Furthermore, Fubara violated Law 3 of Greene’s playbook: Conceal your intentions. In statecraft, one must keep opponents off-balance and cloaked in smoke; by the time they realize your true goal, it should be too late to counter. Abuja has now given Fubara a masterclass in this law.

The governor’s optimal strategy would have been to play along with the APC on the surface while quietly cultivating an independent, underground alliance. Instead, Wike and the APC leadership beat him to the punch, maintaining a diplomatic smokescreen while executing a parallel strategy to isolate him. Fubara walked straight into the trap, blinded by his trust in his newfound Abuja benefactors.

Machiavelli, Metrics, and Lessons from the Past

As Niccolò Machiavelli famously observed, “Love is held by a chain of obligation which, because men are wicked, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage.” Fubara’s reliance on an unwritten, gentleman’s agreement in a room occupied by Nyesom Wike was a structural anomaly. Wike’s political stock in Abuja surged significantly after delivering electoral “success” during the local government polls in the FCT. Once Wike proved his transactional value to the APC national secretariat, the political music changed, and Fubara’s betrayal became a matter of when, not if.

To analyze this through the lens of political science, the philosopher Katherine Hawley notes that while trust implies relying on someone to fulfill a commitment, distrust is the active expectation of unfulfilled commitments. The takeaway? It is far safer to rely on Nigerian politicians based on shared interests than to trust them based on sentiment. I can rely on my computer to process this article, but if it crashes, it owes me no apology—hence, I do not place emotional trust in it.

Fubara’s current predicament is a classic case of political karma; he is being paid back in the exact currency of distrust he dealt his godfather. This saga evokes memories of Oyo State politics in 2003. Rashidi Ladoja rode to the governorship on the shoulders of the late garrison commander of Ibadan politics, Chief Lamidi Adedibu. The relationship soured almost immediately when Ladoja refused to share state allocations with his benefactor. A bitter, Adedibu-engineered impeachment followed. Though the courts reinstated Ladoja after an 11-month legal battle, his second-term ambitions were permanently destroyed. In Nigerian politics, once a godfather is crossed, they rarely forgive. By constitutional grace, a rebellious godson may finish his current term, but a second act is rarely permitted.

A Contrast in Alliances: The Kano Blueprint

Fubara’s misfortune stands in stark contrast to Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf of Kano State, who successfully navigated the turbulent waters to secure his second-term ticket. Faced with a fallout with his original godfather, Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso, Governor Yusuf swiftly pivoted. He built a mutually beneficial, transactional alliance with APC National Chairman Abdullahi Ganduje and secured the federal backing of President Tinubu. Guided by the timeless aphorism, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Yusuf’s screening was seamless.

Unfortunately for Fubara, his primary adversary (Wike) happens to be the best friend of his newfound federal allies. On paper, Yusuf and Fubara share similar temperaments and bureaucratic backgrounds, proving that Fubara’s failure wasn’t due to personal defects, but rather a catastrophic failure of alignment.

With only a minor faction of the State House of Assembly and a fractured cabinet in his corner, Fubara is operating under severe structural limitations. His critics suffer from a distinct cognitive bias—attributing his political isolation to personal flaws rather than the overwhelming institutional weight stacked against him.

Defeating a political godfather in Nigeria requires immense leverage, usually backed by federal might. We saw this in Kano, where Ganduje fiercely and successfully contested the soul of the state against Kwankwaso over two terms. Most godsons simply do not possess that institutional luck. Even in Lagos, the actor-turned-politician Desmond Elliot recently lost his APC primary ticket for the Surulere Constituency, subsequently displaying his frustration in grand, theatrical fashion across the media. Listen closely to the grievances of Elliot and his former allies, and the distinct echoes of trust violated and distrust activated ring loud and clear.

Conclusion

In the final analysis, trust enthrones leaders in Nigerian politics, and distrust dethrones them. However, mistrust—the tragedy of misplaced confidence—is the ultimate political peril.

Trust brought Siminalayi Fubara to the Dennis Osadebe House, and distrust is actively engineering his exit. His naive overestimation of Abuja’s loyalty has anchored his political downfall. As the curtain falls on the latest APC primaries, Nigeria enters yet another cyclic season of shifting alliances, broken vows, and political betrayals.

Ariwoola Samuel Akinwale wrote this piece from Lagos and can be reached via ariwoolaakinwale@gmail.com.