Politics, especially in Nigeria, is rarely about ideology. It is often about control, access, survival, and the management of personal interests disguised as public strategy. That is why political parties in many states have gradually lost their philosophical identities and become private estates controlled by a handful of powerful men. In Akwa Ibom State, the unfolding story of the All Progressives Congress under the influence of Godswill Akpabio is beginning to fit perfectly into that troubling narrative.
For more than a decade, the APC in Akwa Ibom existed as a battered but determined opposition platform. From 2013 onward, thousands of party faithfuls invested their time, resources, and political futures into building the party structure across wards, local governments, and senatorial districts. They endured intimidation, electoral defeats, ridicule, and exclusion from the patronage system that favoured the ruling PDP. Yet they remained because they believed someday the party would become a genuine alternative political force.
In 2015, the APC attempted to unseat the ruling establishment but failed. In 2019, hopes rose dramatically with the dramatic defection of Akpabio from the PDP into the APC. Many expected his entrance to transform the fortunes of the party. Instead, the election ended in disappointment. The APC lost the governorship again, while Akpabio himself failed to return to the Senate. By 2023, despite loud boasts and grand political rhetoric, the party still could not secure the state.
Ordinarily, repeated electoral failure should inspire introspection, institutional rebuilding, and ideological reawakening. But in Akwa Ibom, something else happened. The party that many grassroots loyalists had struggled to build gradually became vulnerable to elite capture.
The entrance of Umo Eno into the APC did not emerge from ideological conviction. To many observers, it appeared more like a carefully negotiated political transaction. A governor who rose to power under the PDP political machine suddenly found accommodation within the same opposition structure that had spent years attacking the PDP establishment. That contradiction alone raised eyebrows. But what disturbed many long-standing APC loyalists was not merely Umo Eno’s arrival; it was the speed with which the party machinery appeared to surrender itself to him.
Within a short period, familiar APC figures who had laboured through difficult years began finding themselves sidelined, while newcomers who arrived from the PDP occupied strategic spaces. The old political soldiers watched as the structure they defended through sacrifice gradually transformed into an extension of another political empire.
To critics within the party, Akpabio became the chief architect of this transition.
They accuse him not merely of welcoming new entrants into the APC, but of effectively commercializing the soul of the party. The allegation repeatedly echoed in political conversations across the state is that access, influence, and control became negotiable commodities. The APC, once projected as a rescue platform, increasingly began to resemble a political marketplace where loyalty could be displaced by financial bargaining power.
Many grassroots members now ask uncomfortable questions. What became of those who stood with the party when it was weak? What happened to the men and women who defended the APC when Umo Eno and several of his current allies were allegedly attacking and mocking the same party? Why has the leadership suddenly become silent about internal injustices? Why does the structure now appear dominated by political migrants while foundational members are treated like expendable tools?
For these critics, Akpabio’s silence is louder than words.
They argue that his conduct exposes a deeper crisis in Nigerian politics: the triumph of personal ambition over institutional loyalty. To them, Akpabio represents a class of politicians who view parties not as ideological platforms but as vehicles for negotiation, survival, and influence. In such a system, political parties cease to belong to members; they belong to power brokers.
The irony is painful for many APC loyalists in Akwa Ibom. A party that spent years presenting itself as an alternative to PDP dominance is now accused of accommodating the very forces it once condemned. The ideological boundaries have become blurred. What remains visible is the struggle for control.
Critics further contend that Umo Eno’s growing influence within the APC resembles a corporate acquisition rather than political integration. They argue that the party structure is increasingly being managed like a private conglomerate where loyalty flows upward to powerful individuals instead of downward to party principles and grassroots stakeholders. In their view, Akpabio enabled this transformation because it served his personal political calculations.
Yet beyond personalities, the controversy exposes a broader national problem. Nigerian political parties have become dangerously weak institutions. Defections occur without consequences. Ideological consistency is almost nonexistent. Loyalty is transactional. Political actors move across party lines with ease because the central objective is often access to power rather than commitment to principles.
That is why many ordinary party faithfuls feel betrayed. They believed they were building a movement. Instead, they discovered they were merely maintaining a structure that could eventually be transferred through elite negotiation.
Whether Akpabio’s strategy ultimately strengthens the APC electorally or destroys its moral legitimacy remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: a growing number of party loyalists now believe the soul of the APC in Akwa Ibom has been traded away, not defeated at the ballot box, but surrendered from within.
