By Usman Abdulkadir Taleeki
After deciding on the topic for this week’s column, my mind returned to my first year at the university during Physics 101: Introduction to Physics. One of the earliest concepts we were taught was elasticity. In simple terms, elasticity explains how a material responds when force or pressure is applied to it. An elastic object can stretch or expand to accommodate pressure, but only up to a certain point. That point is called the elastic limit. Once this limit is exceeded, the object reaches what is known as the breaking point, where any additional pressure causes it to fail completely.
This basic scientific principle provides a useful framework for understanding what is currently happening within Nigeria’s ruling party, the All Progressives Congress (APC).
Following the 2023 general elections, the APC controlled 19 of Nigeria’s 36 states. That number already placed the party in a position of considerable dominance within the federation. However, between May 2023 and today, Nigeria has witnessed an unprecedented wave of defections by governors from opposition parties into the APC. As things stand, the ruling party now controls over 30 states, with strong indications that more governors may still defect.
On the surface, this appears to be a sign of political strength. In reality, it raises serious concerns about internal stability, democratic balance, and long-term cohesion.
For anyone who has followed Nigerian politics closely, these defections are not accidental or spontaneous. There is a growing perception that the APC-led federal government under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has deliberately encouraged and exploited crises within opposition parties. The objective appears to be to weaken opposition platforms, make them internally unstable, and ultimately push their leaders into political exile or forced alignment with the ruling party.
The situation in Rivers State illustrates this clearly. Federal intervention reached the extreme point of suspending a sitting governor, creating an environment where political survival appeared possible only through submission. This episode led me to write an earlier column titled “Tinubu’s Rivers Misadventure and the Death of Nigerian Federalism.” Similar patterns have emerged elsewhere, with opposition governors openly complaining that they no longer exercise effective control over security agencies in their states, simply because they belong to opposition parties.
In Kano State, for instance, the emirate tussle exposed how federal security agencies repeatedly acted in ways that undermined the authority of the elected state government. I examined this development in detail in my previous column, “Tell President Tinubu: Winter Is Coming and the North Remembers.” Added to these developments are persistent allegations that defecting governors are rewarded financially and politically, including protection from investigation or intimidation.
When these factors are considered together, the motive becomes clearer. The strategy appears to be driven by a singular obsession: securing a second term in 2027 by weakening or neutralising all meaningful opposition.
However, political history shows that excessive consolidation of power often produces the opposite effect. Rather than strengthening a ruling party, it exposes internal contradictions and accelerates internal collapse.
By absorbing too many governors and political heavyweights into the APC, the Tinubu administration risks overstretching the party beyond its organisational capacity. Every governor comes with personal ambitions, loyalists, unresolved rivalries, and expectations of reward. Managing these competing interests within a single party structure becomes increasingly difficult.
In the short term, Nigerians are likely to witness intense factional struggles within the APC. These struggles will revolve around party leadership, control of state structures, and the allocation of tickets ahead of the 2027 elections. Even before the recent defections, the APC was already deeply factionalised in several states. Kano State alone has multiple entrenched camps. The entry of additional power blocs will only deepen these divisions.
Public perception is another critical factor. Many Nigerians do not interpret these defections as expressions of ideological alignment or performance-based endorsement. Instead, they are widely seen as acts of political survival. This perception damages the credibility of the ruling party and weakens public trust. Over time, voters tend to punish parties they perceive as arrogant, coercive, or dismissive of democratic choice.
Furthermore, many of those defecting today are doing so out of fear rather than conviction. Political loyalty built on fear is unstable. As 2027 approaches, some of these actors may quietly or openly work against the same administration they currently appear to support.
This brings us back to the concept of the elastic limit. Every political organisation has a maximum capacity to absorb new members while maintaining unity, discipline, and functional order. Once that capacity is exceeded, internal conflict becomes inevitable. The structure begins to strain, cohesion weakens, and eventual fragmentation follows.
In a complex federation like Nigeria, no party can sustainably control over 30 governors without severe internal instability. This is especially true for a party already burdened by unresolved grievances from the 2023 elections, where many insiders feel marginalised or betrayed.
The APC has, by all indicators, reached its elastic limit. What lies ahead is not consolidation, but tension. Not harmony, but struggle. And eventually, a breaking point.
When everyone joins the boat, the fundamental question remains unanswered: who will row, and who will rock the boat?
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Opinion