Delta’s great defection: Triumph for APC, tragedy for democratic fidelity?

By Lemmy Ughegbe, Ph.D

In a tectonic shift that has rattled Nigeria’s political firmament, the immediate past governor of Delta State, Dr Ifeanyi Okowa, joined his successor, Governor Sheriff Oborevwori, in defecting from the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) to the All Progressives Congress (APC) during the week.

In doing so, they swept along senior administration officials, local government chairmen, and countless party executives to the ruling party. Given Okowa’s stature as the PDP’s vice-presidential candidate in the 2023 general election, this mass cross-carpeting marks the apogee of a fresh gale of defections threatening to redraw party dynamics ahead of 2027.

Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution (as amended) delineates clear rules regarding defections, but these apply principally to lawmakers. Unless a merger or significant split within their original party occurs, senators or House members who defect mid-term must forfeit their seats, as Section 68(1)(g) stipulates. State House of Assembly members are similarly bound under Section 109(1)(g).

Crucially, however, these provisions do not extend to executive officeholders—governors, ministers, and local government chairmen—who may freely embark on political peregrinations without risking automatic removal from office.

Superior courts have consistently upheld and clarified these constitutional boundaries. In Attorney-General of the Federation & Ors v Abubakar & Ors (2007), the Supreme Court confirmed that legislators are subject to Sections 68 and 109, while executives can only be removed through impeachment for gross misconduct (Sections 132 and 188)—not merely for party-switching. In Amaechi v INEC & Ors (2009) 5 NWLR (Pt 1080) 227 at 317–318, the Court reaffirmed that defections by governors, however irregular they may seem, do not automatically vacate office. Likewise, in Abegunde v Ondo State House of Assembly (2015), the Court held that only a split at the national level—not state or local—can justify a legislator’s mid-term defection without penalty. These cases stand as loci classici, affirming that while legislators face constitutional penalties for defection, executives enjoy immunity, thus emboldening their political peregrinations across party lines.

Yet, legal permissibility does not obliterate moral scrutiny. Although Dr Okowa and his colleagues escape constitutional sanction, their sudden migration raises questions about political fidelity. Votes cast in 2023 were not merely for individuals but for the platforms they represented—the PDP banner under which they campaigned.

To abandon that mandate mid-stream smacks of a breach of the unwritten covenant between the electorate and the officeholder. Honourable Justice Taiwo Taiwo observed in the Cross River House of Assembly defection saga that “the vote belongs to the party, not the individual.” Legislators who defect without a qualifying division ought, by law, to have their seats declared vacant—a remedy honoured more in the breach than in the observance.

Okowa’s defection delivers both a strategic and symbolic blow for the PDP. Strategically, Delta State’s 25 local government areas have long served as a PDP fortress in the Niger Delta; their sudden tilt towards APC authority risks hollowing out the party’s grassroots machinery.

Symbolically, the loss of a former vice-presidential candidate undermines the PDP’s narrative of cohesion and indispensable opposition. The optics are grave: if even the PDP’s recent standard-bearers cannot remain loyal, what hope remains for the rank-and-file?

Conversely, the APC secures a handsome political dividend. By absorbing Okowa and his cohort, the ruling party strengthens its grip on the oil-rich South-South, boosting its leverage in the presidential-zoning negotiations looming ahead of 2027.

Yet this influx is not without peril. The APC must carefully integrate defectors without alienating loyal stalwarts wary of marginalisation. Moreover, the party risks deepening public perception of political parties as mere patronage vehicles rather than principled platforms. Political peregrinations, while expedient, rarely endear politicians to an increasingly cynical electorate.

Looking ahead to 2027, Delta’s realignment offers both opportunity and uncertainty. With the state’s leadership firmly in its camp, the APC is better poised to marshal votes in what was once a PDP heartland. This shift could prove decisive in tightly contested states, influencing running-mate calculations, ministerial allocations, and broader strategic alignments.

However, history counsels caution. In Abia and Akwa Ibom States, senators who defected without cause faced judicial backlash, with courts occasionally intervening to annul their mandates.

The electorate will ultimately be the final arbiter. Will they perceive these defectors as visionary realists aligning with the government of the day or as political turncoats who traded public trust for personal survival? The verdict of 2027 will either vindicate or vilify this latest round of peregrinations.

A deeper constitutional question also arises: Should elected officials who defect be compelled to resign and seek a fresh mandate? Some scholars advocate for such a rule, arguing it would uphold democratic integrity by allowing voters to affirm or reject the switch. Others counter that Nigeria’s current legal framework offers no such mechanism for executives, leaving only moral suasion—and ultimately, the ballot box—as the available remedies.

Either way, the pattern of opportunistic defections underscores the urgent need for constitutional reform, perhaps through recall provisions or by limiting defections to narrowly defined windows.

Other democracies offer instructive lessons. Ghana’s 1992 Constitution, for instance, takes a harsher view. Articles 97(1)(g) and (h) mandate that any MP who defects mid-term must vacate their seat. This principle was tested when Speaker Alban Bagbin declared four parliamentary seats vacant.

However, on 12 November 2024, Ghana’s Supreme Court, by a 5–2 majority, ruled that such declarations were unconstitutional unless the defection occurred during the life of the sitting Parliament—not merely by filing for a future election under a different banner. Even in Ghana, the legal waters remain somewhat murky.

South Africa’s experience further illuminates the pitfalls. Once, under the Eighth, Ninth, and Tenth Amendments, “floor-crossing” was permitted during specified periods. However, these provisions were eventually scrapped by the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments in 2009 following public backlash over the practice’s corrosive effects on party discipline and democratic accountability. South Africans, in effect, recognised that unchecked political peregrinations undermine the moral authority of governance.

In contrast, Nigeria continues to shield executive defections from any meaningful accountability under Sections 68(1)(g) and 109(1)(g) of the Constitution. This anomaly emboldens politicians to treat political mandates as personal entitlements, available for trade at will, without regard to the electorate’s trust.

If democratic integrity demands anything, it surely demands accountability. Should we not aspire to higher standards, compelling executives who defect mid-term to seek a fresh mandate? Should our Constitution not evolve to curb the political prostitution that opportunistic peregrinations represent? Can democracy thrive in a climate where political infidelity is casually tolerated and even rewarded?

Ultimately, the realignment unfolding in Delta State is as much a test of Nigeria’s political maturity as a mere reordering of power. The PDP must find a way to rebuild—not merely around personalities but through genuine grassroots activism anchored on principled opposition. For its part, the APC must resist the temptation to view defectors merely as electoral trophies; instead, it must weave them into a coherent governance philosophy that speaks to the aspirations of ordinary Nigerians.

When 2027 arrives, the discerning Nigerian voter will render the final verdict, judging whether these peregrinations were acts of pragmatic statesmanship or episodes in a sordid transactional theatre that demeans the very soul of representational democracy.

As the clock ticks steadily towards the next general election, one certainty emerges: Nigeria’s political landscape will be irrevocably reshaped by today’s peregrinations and choices. Whether that reshaping will herald a deepening of democracy or a further erosion of political fidelity rests, as ever, in the hands of the Nigerian people.

Lemmy Ughegbe, Ph.D

Journalist | Public Affairs Analyst | Advocate

Speaking truth to power, defending democratic values.

Email: [email protected]

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