PDP: A Party That Killed Itself

“PDP will rule Nigeria for the next 60 years.” That was Prince Vincent Ogbulafor in 2008, chest out, voice full of the kind of confidence only a Nigerian politician swimming in power can muster. Reading that statement today feels like discovering a letter from someone who predicted the Titanic would make three more voyages. Less than two decades later, the People’s Democratic Party is not planning its 60-year reign. It is planning its funeral.

During the week, the Court of Appeal in Abuja dismissed the PDP’s appeal against the 31 October judgment by Justice James Omotosho of the Federal High Court, which restrained INEC from recognising the outcome of the party’s national convention slated for Ibadan. A three-member panel resolved all four issues against the PDP in a unanimous judgment.

The court held that the Federal High Court was right and that the PDP’s appeal lacked merit. For a party that once controlled 28 out of 36 states and produced three consecutive presidents, this is not just a legal setback. This is a death certificate being typed in real time.

Let the numbers sink in. As I write this, only two governors remain under the PDP banner: Seyi Makinde of Oyo and Bala Mohammed of Bauchi. Two. And if the whispers making the rounds in Abuja are anything to go by, Bala is already shopping for APC membership forms while Makinde is eyeing the African Democratic Congress. From over 24 governors in 1999 and 2003 to possibly zero. That is not a decline. That is political extinction of the highest order.

If the convention dispute ends up before the Supreme Court, the arithmetic gets even more brutal. By the time the apex court delivers judgment, the window for candidate submission in April and May, according to the timetable, would have slammed shut. You cannot field candidates when your party structures are tied up in litigation. The PDP may enter the 2027 cycle the way a boxer enters the ring with both hands tied behind his back. And in Nigerian politics, the ring does not wait for you to get ready.

And yet, for all my sardonic tone, this column is not a celebration. It would be foolish to celebrate the PDP’s impending death. Nigeria needs the party alive. We need a viable opposition with structures in all 774 local governments across the country. Democracy without opposition is just an elected monarchy with better public relations. I don’t take the ADC seriously as a replacement, not now, not in the foreseeable future. The party lacks the depth, breadth, and institutional memory to hold the ruling party accountable at the national level. The last FCT council election proved the point rather emphatically; the PDP still commands more grassroots loyalty than the ADC on its best day. But grassroots loyalty means nothing when the roof is caving in, and the landlord is fighting his tenants in court.

So where did the rot begin? I have thought about this for a while, and my answer keeps coming back to the same place: 2011. When President Goodluck Jonathan decided to contest that election, he broke the north-south rotation arrangement that had held the party together since 1999. I can understand the logic of contesting in 2011; he had inherited power after the death of President Umaru Yar’Adua and wanted a mandate of his own. Fair enough.

But the 2015 contest was the real sin. Jonathan had served out Yar’Adua’s term and won his own four-year mandate. The honourable thing was to step aside and let the north have its turn. By insisting on running again despite the zoning formula, Jonathan lit the match that burned down the house he was living in.

Five governors bolted. The new PDP was formed. The merger with other opposition groups gave birth to the APC. And in 2015, for the first time in Nigeria’s history, an incumbent president lost a general election. The PDP has not recovered since that defeat, and honestly, they have only themselves to blame. The seeds of destruction were planted from within, not by any external enemy.

What followed was a masterclass in how not to run an opposition party. The PDP in opposition behaved like a man who had lost his job and spent the next eight years complaining about the new hire rather than updating his CV. Nigerian politicians, as we know, don’t have the stomach for opposition. They gravitate towards power the way mosquitoes gravitate towards light. So one by one, PDP stalwarts crossed to the APC  not out of conviction, not because they suddenly believed in progressive politics, but out of appetite. The dining table had moved to the other side of the room, and they followed it.

Then came the final nail in the coffin, the 2023 election. Atiku Abubakar won the PDP presidential ticket and promptly mismanaged the one crisis that could have been avoided. The G5 governors, led by Nyesom Wike, demanded the removal of Iyorchia Ayu as national chairman. Their argument was straightforward: you cannot have the presidential candidate and party chairman both from the north. It offends the party’s own principle of regional balance. Now, you can agree or disagree with the merits of that argument. But the political calculation was clear to anyone with a functioning brain. Sacrifice Ayu, keep the five governors and their political machinery, and present a united front. Atiku refused. He chose pride over pragmatism, and the G5 walked. The result was a fractured campaign that could not win a bicycle race, let alone a presidential election.

Here is what baffles me. The PDP had a template for managing exactly this kind of internal crisis. The party understood instinctively that in Nigeria’s electoral arithmetic, balance is more important than ego. Power sharing is not charity; it is a survival strategy. Somewhere between 2011 and 2023, the PDP forgot how to count. They forgot the very formula that kept them in power for 16 unbroken years.

Now the Turaki faction is reportedly considering taking the convention matter to the Supreme Court. I think this would be a catastrophic mistake. Every day spent in court is a day the APC consolidates its hold on power without any real opposition breathing down its neck. Every day spent fighting over who controls the party logo is a day the PDP loses another ward chairman, another local government coordinator, another footsoldier to the ruling party. The clock is not on the PDP’s side. It never was, and it certainly is not now.

The way forward is not complicated, but it requires the one thing Nigerian politicians are worst at: swallowing their pride. The Turaki group should drop the Supreme Court gambit, sit down at a table with the Wike faction, and negotiate a settlement that both sides can live with. Share the positions, restructure the leadership, and present a united front ahead of 2027. Is it fair? Maybe not. Is it necessary? Absolutely. You don’t argue about who gets the captain’s armband when the ship is sinking. You grab a bucket and start bailing water.

To be sure, some will argue that the PDP’s collapse is simply the natural order of things, parties rise and fall. True enough. But in a country where one-party dominance has historically been a recipe for impunity, recklessness and waste, the death of the PDP should worry every Nigerian, including card-carrying APC members. Power without accountability is dangerous. And accountability without a credible opposition is a fantasy we cannot afford.

The PDP built its own coffin, nailed it shut, and is now arguing in court over who gets to hold the hammer. Ogbulafor’s 60-year prophecy turned out to be the most expensive joke in Nigerian political history. The party can still be saved, but only if the men who destroyed it can find something they have never had in abundance: humility. The country is watching. And the clock is ticking.