On Tuesday, President Bola Tinubu declared a state of emergency in Rivers State, suspending Governor Siminalayi Fubara, his deputy, and the entire state assembly members.
Almost immediately, the internet was flooded with Tinubu’s own words from 2013 condemning then-President Goodluck Jonathan for doing the exact same thing in some northeastern states.
Trust Nigerians to always remember the receipts.
In that 2013 statement, Tinubu, then Action Congress Of Nigeria (ACN) National Leader, called Jonathan’s emergency declaration “a dangerous trend in the art of governance” with “barely disguised intention to muzzle elected governments.” He accused Jonathan of using security challenges as an excuse to remove governors “considered hostile to the 2015 PDP/Jonathan project.”
Fast forward to 2025, and President Tinubu is reading from the same playbook he once condemned. I’m not surprised. If you’ve lived in Nigeria long enough, you understand our peculiar brand of political amnesia: what was tyrannical yesterday becomes necessary today.
Former Kaduna State governor, Nasir El-Rufai’s recent defection to SDP comes to mind – the same man who once declared he would die an APC member. But should we really be shocked? Political principles in Nigeria are often as changeable as the weather during harmattan.
I often wonder if our politicians ever read their own past statements. Do they cringe or have they mastered the art of compartmentalisation so thoroughly that yesterday’s convictions bear no relationship to today’s decisions?
The real victims in this political theatre are the average Nigerians in Rivers State. While politicians play musical chairs with power, the ordinary citizens face the consequences of governance paralysis. The oil-rich state that contributes enormously to our national coffers deserves better than to become a battlefield for political supremacy.
In my view, the Rivers crisis certainly demands attention. The state was drifting into anarchy and a decision just has to be taken.
What’s particularly troubling about the Rivers situation is how it exposes the hollow nature of our federalism. We claim to practice a federal system, but when convenient, the federal government can effectively nullify state autonomy.
Let’s be clear – the Rivers crisis didn’t develop overnight. Governor Fubara and his predecessor Nyesome Wike have been locked in a political battle that has crippled governance.
Some argue that we should give President Tinubu the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the situation in Rivers was so dire that only drastic action could prevent complete breakdown. But that’s precisely the argument Jonathan made in 2013, which Tinubu dismissed as a political smokescreen.
The appointment of retired Vice Admiral Ibokette Ibas as administrator signals the administration’s security concerns. But it also raises questions about militarising civilian governance – another regression we thought we’d left behind with the return to democracy in 1999.
This Rivers drama reminds us that in Nigerian politics, principles often take a backseat to power. The opposition criticises today what they’ll implement tomorrow, and government officials defend practices they once condemned from across the aisle. It’s a predictable cycle that leaves the citizens cynical about political promises.h
The situation brings to mind the immortal words of the French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr: “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” In Nigerian politics, this has never been truer. We recycle not just politicians but also the same political manoeuvres, controversies, and contradictions.
Another angle to consider is whether the President intervened to shield Governor Fubara from the imminent impeachment moves that threatened both his tenure and that of his deputy. Was the emergency declaration also a strategic move to distance Fubara and save him from the Rivers State House of Assembly?
Constitutional experts will debate the legality of Tinubu’s action in the coming days. But regardless of the legal outcome, the political damage has been done. Every future emergency declaration will now be viewed through the lens of political convenience rather than genuine necessity.
What message does this send to governors across Nigeria? That maintaining good relations with the presidency trumps serving their constituents? That federal might can crush state autonomy at will? These are dangerous precedents in a democratic federation that’s still finding its footing after decades of military rule.
I don’t hold Nigerian politicians to their words anymore. Experience has taught me better. Their principles are fluid, their convictions temporary, and their memories conveniently short. What matters isn’t what they say in opposition but what they do with power.
As citizens, perhaps we need to develop institutional memories that outlast political cycles. The question now is whether this emergency declaration will actually resolve the Rivers crisis or merely push it underground to resurface later. History suggests the latter. Quick fixes rarely address underlying political tensions, especially in a state with Rivers’ complex political and economic dynamics.
For the average Rivers resident, the suspension of their elected officials means uncertainty. Will basic governance continue? Will civil servants be paid? Will development projects proceed? These practical concerns often get lost in the high-stakes political drama.
The judiciary, which President Tinubu says will continue functioning independently, now bears a heavy burden. How they respond to inevitable legal challenges will shape not just the Rivers crisis but potentially the future of federal-state relations in Nigeria.
As the dust settles on this latest political crisis, Rivers people deserve better than being pawns in a high-stakes political chess match. They voted for a governor and assembly members who now sit on the sidelines while an appointed administrator calls the shots.
If there’s any silver lining to this situation, perhaps it’s that it forces us to reckon with the contradictions in our political system. We need honest conversations about federalism, the limits of presidential power, and the mechanisms for resolving political crises without resorting to emergency rule.
History indeed repeats itself in Nigerian politics – first as criticism, then as policy. The more things change, the more they remain the same. And we, the citizens, are left wondering if we’ll ever break this cycle of political déjà vu.
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