The ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) achieved something remarkable in Edo State: it conducted one primary election and produced two winners, two vote tallies, two returning officers and, judging by the arithmetic involved, perhaps two entirely separate realities. In one universe, Omoregie Ogbeide-Ihama won comfortably with 27,154 votes. In another, Pastor Osagie Ize-Iyamu triumphed magnificently with 33,399 votes. Somewhere between those parallel dimensions lies the actual election, presumably wandering around Edo South looking for a credible collation centre. The Edo debacle is not an isolated embarrassment. It is merely the latest episode in the APC’s long-running national theatre of factional warfare, institutional indiscipline and administrative incoherence. For students of Nigerian politics, this was less a surprise than a ritual.
The Edo fiasco, however, was merely the latest instalment in the APC’s national anthology of disorder. In Ondo, the party transformed a House of Representatives primary into something approximating an evacuation exercise. Suspected political thugs stormed the APC secretariat in Akure while results were being announced, sending party officials, journalists and loyalists scrambling for exits. According to witnesses, the confusion began when a telephone instruction allegedly arrived ordering the process halted midway. The spectacle deteriorated further when committee members reportedly vanished altogether, including the secretary of the primary committee, leaving results hanging in bureaucratic limbo. A governing party had effectively misplaced its own electoral officials. Nigeria, sadly, has become so accustomed to administrative absurdity that such developments barely qualify as shocking anymore.
Elsewhere in Cross River State, one defeated aspirant felt compelled to issue a public sermon urging party members not to “burn down the house” over the outcome of primaries. The mere fact that this now passes for statesmanship tells its own story. In functioning political systems, losers concede because rules are accepted as legitimate. In the APC, aspirants increasingly appeal for calm the way flight attendants prepare passengers for turbulence: with forced optimism masking institutional anxiety. This is not accidental disorder. It is structural. The APC has evolved into that most dangerous of political organisms: a governing party incapable of governing itself, yet entrusted with governing 220 million people. It now treats internal democracy as a chaotic experiment. The comedy would be entertaining were the implications not so serious. Political parties are meant to serve as rehearsal rooms for governance. If a party cannot organize a primary election without producing rival winners like a malfunctioning photocopier, one begins to wonder how exactly it intends to organize a country.
This is, after all, the same party whose congresses and primaries have repeatedly resembled civil disturbances interrupted only briefly by accreditation. In Kano, factions have spent years behaving less like political colleagues than rival claimants to a disputed oil well. In Rivers, the party practically dissolved itself into legal confusion so severe that it became electorally invisible. In Zamfara, internal disputes once became so catastrophic that courts barred the APC from fielding candidates altogether, handing victory to opponents without them needing the inconvenience of campaigning. In Ogun, Osun and Imo, parallel executives and competing party structures became so common that one required a flowchart merely to identify the authentic faction of the authentic faction.
Even the APC’s national conventions often carry the atmosphere of an aristocratic family fracas conducted with microphones. Governors routinely fight ministers. Ministers undermine party chairmen. Chairmen are removed with the speed and discretion of Soviet officials disappearing from photographs. One APC national chairman after another has entered office proclaiming unity before exiting amid intrigue, rebellion or humiliation. The party changes its leadership with the nervous frequency of a company hiding accounting irregularities. And yet the APC insists on presenting itself as the custodian of national stability.
The deeper problem is philosophical. The party increasingly operates not as an institution bound by rules, but as a coalition of ambitions temporarily sharing office space. Ideology is absent. Procedure is negotiable. Loyalty lasts precisely until the next ticket allocation. Primaries therefore become less democratic exercises than exercises in managed hostility, where every aspirant arrives already convinced the process will be rigged unless rigged in his favor. The result is the political equivalent of organized confusion. Electoral officials announce contradictory results with straight faces. Aggrieved aspirants rush to television studios carrying documents thicker than doctoral theses. Party headquarters issues statements “reviewing the situation.” Courts prepare for another harvest season of injunctions. Meanwhile, ordinary Nigerians watch the spectacle with the exhausted resignation of people observing a generator that sparks every evening but somehow remains in use.
What makes the APC’s disorder particularly alarming is that it mirrors the wider condition of the Nigerian state under its stewardship. A government unable to coordinate fuel policy now struggles to coordinate candidate lists. A party presiding over chronic electricity failures cannot keep the lights on inside its own internal processes. The confusion at the primaries is merely governance in miniature.
Consider the broader landscape. Inflation ravages households while government officials argue publicly over economic direction. Security agencies contradict one another on terrorism statistics. The naira behaves like a currency undergoing emotional distress. Ministries announce policies only for other ministries to deny them hours later. Even basic governance increasingly resembles a relay race in which participants disagree on the direction of the track. In that sense, the Edo primary was not an aberration.
One must also admire, in a grimly academic way, the APC’s commitment to numerical creativity. In Nigerian party primaries, voter turnout often acquires supernatural qualities. Entire wards suddenly produce Soviet-style participation figures. Aspirants who cannot attract ten people to a policy lecture somehow accumulate thirty thousand votes before lunchtime. Democracy, in these settings, becomes less a counting exercise than a literary genre. Naturally, party loyalists will insist these crises merely reflect the vibrancy of internal democracy. This is akin to describing a building collapse as evidence of architectural creativity. Genuine democratic competition requires credible rules accepted by participants before the contest begins.
There is also something profoundly revealing about a ruling party perpetually consumed by itself. At a time when Nigeria faces economic hardship, insecurity and social strain, the APC remains trapped in endless internal combat over offices, tickets and patronage. It governs like a corporation whose executives spend more time fighting over boardroom seating arrangements than addressing impending bankruptcy. The tragedy is that this confusion gradually normalizes institutional decay. Citizens become accustomed to absurdity. Parallel primaries become ordinary. Contradictory officials become expected. Governance by confusion becomes culturally familiar. A country repeatedly exposed to administrative farce eventually loses its capacity for outrage.
And so, the APC continues: announcing unity while manufacturing division, proclaiming order while institutionalizing chaos, presenting itself as the guardian of democracy while struggling to count its own votes coherently. The Edo South primary was therefore more than a local dispute. It was a concise summary of contemporary Nigerian governance: two truths, competing authorities, procedural confusion and a system functioning just well enough to avoid collapse while failing spectacularly at credibility. A party that cannot govern its primaries now governs the republic. Nigeria, unfortunately, is living with the consequences.