THE ONE-PARTY MIRAGE BY EUGENE NANVEN
THE ONE-PARTY MIRAGE BY EUGENE NANVEN
The consolidation of power within the All Progressives Congress as we head into the heart of 2026 is being framed by its architects as the ultimate arrival of national stability. I watched Felix Morka defend this claim on Arise News today and it really makes me sad. To the casual observer, the recent influx of opposition governors and the systematic hollow-out of the PDP suggests a country finally settling into a predictable, singular political rhythm. But for those of us who study the structural integrity of republics, this massive, looming structure looks less like a bedrock of stability and more like a high-altitude mirage. We are witnessing the birth of a political behemoth that is becoming too large to be coherent and too inclusive to be stable. By attempting to swallow every dissenting voice and every regional power bloc, the APC is simply internalizing and turning what should be a healthy inter-party debate into a subterranean war of attrition that threatens to blow the roof off the villa.
The illusion of stability rests on the flawed assumption that a lack of external opposition equals a presence of internal peace. In reality, the “One-Party Mirage” is a dangerous mask. When you bring the diverse and often contradictory ambitions of a Kwankwaso, a Wike, and a litany of defecting governors under one “broom,” you are building a pressurized chamber. In the absence of a credible external threat, the natural predatory instincts of the Nigerian political elite will inevitably turn inward. The battles for the 2027 ticket are already being fought in the dark corners of Abuja, through the weaponization of state institutions, the leaking of dossiers, and the quiet sabotage of ministerial mandates, this is a circular firing squad disguised as a political party.
For the national stakeholders reading this, See the danger clearly: a one-party state in a country as ethnically and religiously pluralistic as Nigeria is an anatomical impossibility. Our stability has always relied on the “vent” of a multi-party system, the ability for a region or a people to feel they have a secondary vehicle for their aspirations if the primary one fails them. When you close those vents through aggressive consolidation, the pressure merely seeks a more violent exit. By making the APC the only game in town, the ruling class is inadvertently telling the disenfranchised that their only path to change is outside the democratic process entirely. We are trading the “noise” of a vibrant opposition for the “silence” of a brewing storm.
Furthermore, the rapid consolidation we are seeing in 2026 is producing a parasitic effect on the civil service and the economy. In a truly competitive system, a party must perform to survive. In a one-party mirage, loyalty becomes the only currency that matters. We see this in the way the ₦58 trillion budget is being handled; there is a terrifying lack of rigorous legislative oversight because the men who are supposed to be checking the executive’s homework are now all in the same “study group.” When the referee and the striker are wearing the same jersey, the game will be about keeping the ball away from anyone who might actually want to play.
The human cost of this mirage is a profound sense of political homelessness among the citizenry. The Nigerian voter looks at the landscape of 2026 and sees a monolith that is indifferent to their suffering because it no longer fears the ballot box. If the only choice is the APC or a fragmented, infiltrated version of the PDP, then the choice is an illusion. This is how a democracy dies with a merger. It dies when the political class decides that the “hassle” of competition is too expensive and that a shared monopoly on power is more profitable.
Ultimately, the APC must realize that its current strength is its greatest vulnerability. A party that tries to be everything to everyone eventually becomes nothing to anyone. The “stability” we see today is a surface-level phenomenon, a thin sheet of ice over a boiling sea of unmet ambitions and regional resentments. If the 10th Assembly continues to function as a rubber stamp for this consolidation, and if the judiciary remains the final “cleaner” of controversial mandates, then the mirage will eventually shatter. And when a mirage disappears, it leaves behind a desert. The stakeholders in Abuja would do well to remember that in Nigeria, the biggest political umbrellas are usually the first to be torn apart by the wind.
This is part of my effort in creating a more informed Nigeria.
Eugene Nanven writes from Gwagwalada Abuja
