Is Wike Fighting the APC, or Is the APC Fighting the Constitution?

by Mohammed Bello Doka 
24 January, 2026.

Nigeria’s politics rarely rewards consistency; it rewards power, timing, and betrayal. Rivers State has become the latest theatre where these forces collide, raising a question that goes beyond personalities and party lines: is this crisis about Nyesom Wike versus the All Progressives Congress (APC), or is it about the APC—and the federal centre—testing the limits of the Constitution?

This op-ed takes sides with neither Wike nor the APC. It is a critique of both—of a serial political betrayer who now insists he is acting “by the rules,” and of a ruling party and president whose instinct for control risks trampling constitutional boundaries when power calculations become inconvenient.

Rivers as a constitutional stress test

Rivers State did not arrive at this moment by accident. Governor Siminalayi Fubara, inaugurated on 29 May 2023, emerged from the political structure of his predecessor, Nyesom Wike, who governed Rivers from 2015 to 2023 and later became Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT). The mentor–protégé relationship fractured quickly. By mid-2023, disagreements over appointments, party control, and authority hardened into open hostility.

The Rivers State House of Assembly, dominated by lawmakers loyal to Wike, became the principal pressure point. Impeachment threats followed—loud, repeated, and destabilising. Whatever one thinks of the motives, impeachment is a constitutional instrument under Section 188 of the 1999 Constitution. It is not a coup; it is a lawful—if politically explosive—power vested in state legislatures.

This is where the first irony appears: Wike’s tactics are aggressive, but procedurally grounded. He has not declared emergency rule. He has not suspended elected institutions by fiat. He has relied on a legislature that exists, sits, and votes.

APC’s counter-move and the Section 11 temptation

As the crisis deepened, APC leaders’ forums and allied groups began urging the National Assembly to invoke Section 11(4) of the Constitution to take over the Rivers Assembly’s legislative functions. This is the second—and more dangerous—irony. Section 11 is an emergency valve, not a political convenience. It allows federal legislative intervention only when a state assembly is unable to perform its functions—a threshold historically associated with war, insurrection, or physical impossibility.

A legislature that is meeting, passing resolutions, and initiating impeachment—however controversially—is not “unable to function.” To stretch Section 11 to halt an impeachment is to invert the Constitution’s logic. It converts a safeguard into a weapon.

Here lies the constitutional core of this debate: Wike is stretching the Constitution from within; APC risks breaking it from above.

The shadow of the 2025 precedent

Rivers also carries the memory of 18 March 2025, when the federal centre imposed emergency measures, suspended elected institutions, and installed a sole administrator, before lifting those measures roughly six months later in mid-September 2025. That episode—whatever one’s justification—proved that the centre is willing to override state autonomy during political crises.

That precedent matters. It conditions today’s debate and emboldens arguments that federal intervention is an acceptable solution to state-level power struggles. It also explains why calls to use Section 11 now trigger alarm: Nigeria has seen how quickly “exceptional measures” become normalised.

Wike: power by betrayal

None of this sanitises Nyesom Wike. His political biography is a study in serial betrayal. He has fallen out with party leaders, godfathers, protégés, and allies with clockwork regularity. He broke with his party’s presidential ticket in 2023, openly worked against the PDP, and delivered Rivers’ political machinery to Bola Tinubu, helping the APC secure a critical victory in a traditionally opposition-leaning state.

That betrayal benefited Tinubu then. It does not ennoble Wike now. A man who betrays his party, his godfathers, and—arguably—his base cannot convincingly claim moral high ground. Wike’s insistence that he is merely enforcing discipline through constitutional means may be procedurally defensible, but it is ethically thin. Rivers is paying the price for a politics that treats institutions as instruments of personal vengeance.

Tinubu: control without sharing

If Wike is a betrayer, Bola Tinubu is a strategist who does not share power. His record suggests a preference for fragmenting godfather–godson relationships to consolidate control at the centre. Across the federation, familiar patterns have emerged:

Kaduna: Governor Uba Sani versus his predecessor Nasir El-Rufai.

Kebbi: Abubakar Malami versus Atiku Bagudu (Kaura Gwandu).

Kano: Rabiu Kwankwaso versus Abba Kabir Yusuf.

Borno: Professor Babagana Zulum versus Kashim Shettima—a relationship that has so far survived, perhaps by character and restraint, though for how long remains an open question.

These are not identical cases, but the pattern is recognisable: the centre benefits when local power blocs weaken each other. Loyalty flows upward; autonomy erodes downward.

By that logic, Wike is too powerful to be comfortable. He commands a state structure, controls a legislature, and carries a reputation for defiance. Tinubu has little incentive to confront him openly—yet. Hence the careful choreography: public restraint, private pressure, and indirect signalling through party actors.

The uneasy dance

This explains the strange theatre now playing out. The APC cannot afford an open rupture with Wike while Rivers remains volatile and 2027 calculations loom. Wike, for his part, is not inclined to submit quietly. He is a fighter by instinct and history. This is a managed confrontation, not a truce.

But management has limits. When party actors begin to reinterpret the Constitution to rescue a governor from impeachment, the line is crossed. Federalism collapses not with a bang, but with justifications.

Godsons, gratitude, and the politics of disposal

There is a cruel symmetry in Nigerian politics: those who betray their godfathers to align with the centre are eventually discarded. History offers a cautionary roll call—Ganduje, Al-Makura, Badaru, and others who were useful, then sidelined when their utility waned.

Rivers may yet add names to that list. Fubara, having drifted toward APC protection, may discover that federal affection is conditional and temporary. Wike, having delivered Rivers once, may learn that yesterday’s kingmaker is today’s liability. The centre rarely keeps souvenirs; it keeps options.

Quotes that frame the dilemma

Two political aphorisms capture this moment. First, Lord Acton’s warning: “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Second, a more local truth whispered in Nigerian politics: “There are no permanent friends, only permanent interests.” Rivers is where these truths collide.

The constitutional bottom line

Strip away the personalities and what remains is stark:

Impeachment, however abused, is a constitutional power of state assemblies (Section 188).

Federal takeover of legislative functions is an emergency measure, not a political shield (Section 11).

Normalising federal overrides to resolve political discomfort undermines federalism.

Nigeria’s Constitution was designed to restrain ambition, not facilitate it. When ambition seeks shortcuts, democracy pays the price.

Conclusion: choose the Constitution, not convenience

This is not a defence of Wike. His history of betrayal is real, documented, and ongoing. Nor is it an endorsement of Fubara’s alignment or the APC’s tactical calculations. It is a defence of constitutional order.

Wike may be fighting the APC in Rivers.
But if the APC presses federal levers to override a functioning legislature, it is fighting the Constitution.

Rivers State is not just another political quarrel. It is a national test. If Nigeria fails it—by allowing convenience to trump legality—the precedent will outlive Wike, Tinubu, and Fubara alike. And when the Constitution becomes optional, everyone eventually pays.

Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]

Abuja Network News

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