The political turmoil in Rivers State has reached a dramatic climax with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s declaration of a state of emergency. Governor Sim Fubara and the House of Assembly have been suspended for six months, and Vice Admiral Ibok-Ette Ibas has been appointed as the state’s Administrator. This drastic measure is emblematic of the dangerous trajectory of the Fubara-Wike feud, which had spiraled beyond mere political contestation into an existential struggle for dominance. The inability of both parties to de-escalate their conflict through democratic means has led to an intervention that invites us to, once again, discuss the fragility and nebulousness of governance structures in Nigeria.
At the heart of this latest development is Fubara’s miscalculation of political dynamics. Rather than consolidating power through broad-based political alliances, he surrounded himself with illiterate creek-dwelling tribal Rottweilers, and other individuals who were less interested in his leadership and more focused on settling old scores with former Governor Nyesom Wike. To be clear, many of his backers were not loyalists but opportunists, drawn to him and motivated for a fight by their grievances against Nyesom Wike, simple and short! Their support was neither ideological nor strategic; it was partly tribal and largely transactional, predicated on his control of the state treasury. Consequently, he received little to no sincere advice on diplomacy, negotiated peace, leadership temperament, and the strategic patience required in political warfare.
A fatal misstep was the growing militant rhetoric from Fubara’s camp, culminating in threats to sabotage oil installations should the governor be impeached. In Nigeria, where oil revenue is the lifeblood of the economy, any hint of disruption to production is perceived as a direct threat to national security. Fubara’s tacit endorsement of such threats—evident in his public call for youth mobilization—reinforced the federal government’s resolve to act decisively. The subsequent explosion of an oil pipeline in Rivers State was the final trigger that made federal intervention inevitable. No president, regardless of political affiliations, would ignore such a direct challenge to the country’s economic stability.
This outcome also stands as poster boy to a broader truth about political power in Nigeria: control of the state institutions ultimately determines the victor in political battles. Wike serves as the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, and wields the influence that comes with serving a national government in a monolithic power structure of a post-colonial state. Any political strategy that ignores this reality is bound to fail. Fubara and his supporters engaged in a fight without first understanding the terrain, and they paid the price for it. In contrast, Wike, a seasoned political operative, leveraged his access to federal institutions to neutralize his adversary.
The declaration of a state of emergency will undoubtedly alter the political landscape of Rivers State. Those who once championed Fubara’s cause will swiftly realign themselves with the new military Administrator, seeking patronage and opportunities. Politics in Nigeria is rarely about ideology; it is about access to power and resources. Fubara’s suspension will expose the true motivations of many of his so-called allies, leaving him politically isolated. Should he return after six months, it will be to a vastly different political environment—one where he may struggle to reclaim the influence he once wielded.
However, the broader implications of this crisis extend beyond Fubara and Wike. It is a reflection of the deep-seated weaknesses in Nigeria’s political system, where power struggles often escalate into full-blown conflicts due to the absence of institutional safeguards. In mature democracies, political disagreements are resolved through legal frameworks and consensus-building mechanisms. In Nigeria, they frequently degenerate into zero-sum battles where victory means absolute control and defeat means total annihilation. Until the country strengthens its democratic institutions, such crises will continue to recur.
For Fubara, this experience offers a crucial lesson: in politics, surrender is not a sign of weakness but often a strategic necessity. Many of history’s most successful political figures have understood when to retreat, regroup, and strike back at the opportune moment. Had Fubara adopted a more conciliatory approach, built bridges rather than burned them, and played the long game, he might have avoided this fate. The path back to relevance will now require a new strategy—one based not on defiance but on calculated diplomacy and coalition-building.
The Rivers State crisis, in the last analysis, serves as a lesson about the dangers of political brinkmanship. Power is transient, and the ability to navigate its intricacies determines survival. As Fubara reflects on his political missteps, he must recognize that governance is not just about wielding authority but also about understanding when to fight, when to negotiate, and when to retreat to fight another day.
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