When you become a governor, the first thing you must learn is how to manage the state assembly. It is not just about governance; it is about survival. You need the numbers on your side. You need to understand the game, how to lobby, how to build alliances, and when necessary, how to divide and rule. Elsewhere, they call it whipping the house.
Look at governors who have been politically wounded, frustrated out of office, or even impeached. They all have one thing in common, a certain arrogance fueled by ignorance. They believe that winning an election makes them untouchable. But power does not work that way. You do not govern in isolation.
The crisis in Rivers State has taken a dramatic turn. President Bola Tinubu has declared a state of emergency, suspending Governor Siminalayi Fubara, his deputy, and all members of the State House of Assembly for six months. This is not just a political move it’s a statement. It accentuates the brutal reality that in Nigerian politics, governance and survival are one and the same.
In his address to the nation, Tinubu pointed to the prolonged instability in the state, citing governance paralysis as the reason for the intervention. He specifically mentioned the demolition of the State House of Assembly 14 months ago, emphasizing that despite multiple interventions, Fubara never rebuilt it. That, among other things, made it clear to Abuja that Rivers had become a battleground rather than a functioning state.
This development proves one thing: power is not just about winning elections; it’s about knowing how to play the game. Fubara’s biggest mistake was failing to consolidate his political base early on. He underestimated the power of his predecessor, Nyesom Wike, and failed to secure absolute control over the state assembly. That left him exposed. Now, the same system that brought him to power has tossed him aside.
Fubara’s fate is now a warning to every sitting and aspiring governor. Politics is about strategy, survival, and alliances. If you lose control of the political structure, you lose everything. You can struggle with governance, but you cannot afford to fail politically. Abuja has shown, once again, that when push comes to shove, it will act decisively. And when that happens, there is no second chance.
A smart governor knows how to balance state politics, align with the right party structure, and more importantly, maintain a working relationship with the president and other power brokers. Because when trouble comes, and it always does, you need people who can fight for you.
Siminalayi Fubara, the governor of Rivers State, is learning this the hard way. From the day he took office, he has been locked in a political war with his predecessor and godfather, Nyesom Wike, a man who still controls a significant part of the state’s political machinery and has strong ties to the presidency. The battle has led to defections, an impeachment attempt, and a crisis that has weakened Fubara’s grip on power.
Had he played his cards right, he would have locked down the state assembly early on, built his own political base, and made sure he had powerful allies in Abuja. Instead, he left himself exposed, and now he is paying the price.
Being a governor is not just about policies and development, it is about power. You can afford to struggle with governance, but you cannot afford to fail politically. If you lose control of the political structure, you lose everything.
Fubara’s predicament is not about victimization. It is about politics. If he had understood the game the way other shrewd governors do, he would not be in this mess. Look at Babajide Sanwo Olu in Lagos, Umo Eno in Akwa Ibom, or Hope Uzodinma in Imo. They understand the power dynamics in their states and play accordingly.
For those who dream of becoming governors, here is the lesson. Politics is about strategy, survival, and knowing the right battles to fight. In 2027, new governors will emerge, but only those who understand the rules of engagement will last.
Impeachments in Nigeria have rarely been about governance failures. More often, they have been political battles disguised as legal proceedings, driven by personal rivalries, power struggles, and control over state resources.
Take Diepreye Alamieyeseigha for instance. His removal in Bayelsa had as much to do with politics as it did with corruption. His fallout with the Obasanjo administration put him in the crosshairs of the federal government. His dramatic escape from the UK while facing money laundering charges only gave them the perfect excuse to push him out. But there was another layer to it. His successor Goodluck Jonathan was seen as more favorable to the presidency at the time. It was not just about accountability. It was about political alignment.
In Oyo State, Rashidi Ladoja’s impeachment had little to do with governance and everything to do with his political godfather, Lamidi Adedibu. Adedibu controlled the state’s political machinery and wanted Ladoja to be nothing more than a puppet. When Ladoja asserted his independence Adedibu moved against him using the House of Assembly to force him out. The Supreme Court later reinstated him confirming what everyone already knew. It was never about governance.
Joshua Dariye’s case in Plateau was another classic example of how impeachment is often a tool for settling scores. His corruption charges were serious but his real crime was opposing President Obasanjo’s administration. His removal was part of a broader pattern of impeachments targeting governors who resisted federal influence. Ironically despite being labeled corrupt he later made a political comeback as a senator. A testament to how fluid the lines between justice and political maneuvering can be in Nigeria.
In Anambra Peter Obi’s impeachment was nothing short of a political coup. As a governor from the All Progressives Grand Alliance APGA, he found himself in a legislature dominated by the People’s Democratic Party PDP. His removal had little to do with incompetence or mismanagement. The PDP simply wanted control of Anambra and impeachment was their weapon of choice. When the courts reinstated Obi, it became clear that the process had been a sham from the start.
Ekiti’s Ayo Fayose was another casualty of political infighting. His impeachment had less to do with corruption and more to do with internal PDP struggles. The federal government under Obasanjo wanted him out and the corruption allegations served as a convenient excuse. But if his impeachment had truly been about accountability how did he later return as governor? His comeback only reinforced the fact that his removal was more about power play than good governance.
Murtala Nyako’s case in Adamawa was blatant political revenge. Originally a PDP governor Nyako defected to the opposition All Progressives Congress APC at a time when then President Goodluck Jonathan was struggling to maintain party loyalty. His impeachment was not about mismanagement. It was about punishing him for switching sides. Once he was out, corruption charges followed, but the entire process was rushed and heavy-handed, making it clear that the impeachment was more about weakening the opposition than fighting corruption.
Even Darius Ishaku’s removal in Taraba was not about his performance as governor. The reason given was that he had not been properly nominated by his party. That was not a governance failure. It was legal maneuvering disguised as accountability. His impeachment was more about who controlled the state’s leadership than about any wrongdoing on his part. The decision was eventually overturned reinforcing the idea that it was politically driven from the start.
Over the years impeachment in Nigeria has been less about enforcing accountability and more about political power struggles. The pattern is predictable. A governor falls out with powerful figures switches political allegiance or refuses to bow to external pressure and suddenly accusations of corruption or misconduct emerge. Many of these impeachments have been overturned by the courts proving that they were never really about governance in the first place. In the end impeachment in Nigeria is often just another weapon in the endless game of political chess.
Stephanie Shaakaa
University of Agriculture, Makurdi,
Benue State.
