By Lemmy Ughegbe, Ph.D
In Ovonramwen Nogbaisi, the great playwright, Ola Rotimi, delivered one of the most haunting warnings about power, arrogance and consequences when he wrote:
“Your brothers threw ashes in the face of a rising wind; in reply, the wind smothered them with the same ashes from their very hands.”
That line has echoed loudly in recent weeks within Nigeria’s political space, especially within the All Progressives Congress, because what played out during the APC primaries across parts of the country was more than routine internal party contestation. It was the dramatic collision between political calculation and unintended consequences.
And perhaps nowhere is this irony more visible than in the controversial provisions inserted into the amended Electoral Act ahead of the 2027 elections.
When the National Assembly hurriedly passed the new Electoral Act into law, many Nigerians raised concerns about certain provisions considered deeply restrictive and potentially undemocratic. But the political class appeared intoxicated by immediate advantage, too intoxicated to pay attention.
At the heart of the controversy was the provision compelling political parties to maintain digital membership registers and submit them to the Independent National Electoral Commission weeks before their primaries.
On the surface, the measure appeared administrative. In reality, however, it fundamentally altered Nigeria’s political mobility culture.
Traditionally, Nigerian politicians who lost primaries in one party often defected immediately to another party to pursue a fresh ticket. That culture, controversial as it was, remained one of the enduring characteristics of Nigeria’s fluid political system.
The amended law changed that dramatically. Once party registers become legally locked and submitted before primaries, last-minute defections become practically impossible because such defectors would not legally exist within the receiving party’s validated register.
The law went even further by criminalising dual party membership. At the time, many legislators celebrated those provisions.
Perhaps they assumed they would never become victims of the same political trap they enthusiastically constructed. Perhaps they believed party leaderships had already guaranteed their re-nomination. Perhaps they imagined the law would only weaken opponents.
But politics has a cruel habit of eventually humbling those who legislate primarily for immediate convenience rather than democratic principle.
Last week, that reality arrived brutally. Across several APC primaries, political heavyweights reportedly found themselves denied tickets, displaced by internal power shifts or trapped within shrinking political options.
Under previous electoral cycles, many such politicians would likely have defected quickly to rival parties in search of alternative platforms. But the same legal framework they helped create has now significantly narrowed those escape routes. The ashes have returned.
And then came another twist this week. The Federal High Court reportedly intervened in aspects of INEC’s timetable for the next general elections, overruling portions considered inconsistent with extant legal provisions and electoral rights.
That judicial intervention may yet reopen broader debates about how far electoral regulations can go in restricting political participation and internal party flexibility.
More importantly, it reinforces a dangerous reality in Nigerian politics: laws hurriedly designed for short-term political advantage often produce unintended institutional crises later. This is precisely why democracies require restraint.
Electoral laws should never be crafted primarily around temporary political interests, factional calculations or elite survival strategies. They must be designed around enduring democratic principles. Unfortunately, that rarely happens in Nigeria.
Too often, ruling elites approach electoral reforms not as nation-building instruments but as tactical weapons against future uncertainty. Until those same weapons eventually turn inward.
That is what makes the current APC situation especially ironic.
Many politicians who once applauded restrictive provisions as tools for consolidating party discipline now find themselves trapped by those very restrictions.
The political flexibility they once enjoyed has narrowed considerably. And when that happens, those who made the trap and once celebrated it may ultimately become its first victims. That is the deeper lesson here.
Democracy weakens when laws are crafted primarily for immediate political convenience rather than for broad national fairness. Because power is never permanent, today’s beneficiary can easily become tomorrow’s casualty.
Ola Rotimi understood this perfectly in Ovonramwen Nogbaisi. The tragedy of power often lies not merely in oppression itself, but in the inability of those exercising power to imagine that consequences may someday return to them.
That is exactly what Nigeria’s political class repeatedly forgets.
The APC primaries therefore represent more than internal party drama. They expose the dangers of political overconfidence.
They remind us that institutions built around exclusion can eventually consume even their original architects. And perhaps that is why the current moment feels symbolically powerful. For many Nigerians watching these developments unfold, it appears the wind has finally begun to return the ashes.
Dr Lemmy Ughegbe, FIMC, CMC
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