By Chinenye Nwaogu
The Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) once styled itself as the largest political party in Africa. For 16 uninterrupted years, it governed Nigeria and boasted confidently that it would remain in power for 60 years. Its national spread, electoral dominance, and financial strength created the illusion of invincibility. But beneath the surface, the roots of its decline were already taking hold. Today, the PDP ship appears to be drifting steadily toward a long-predicted collapse—fulfilling a doomsday prophecy the party never believed could come true.
The PDP grew too big, too fast. With every electoral victory came layers of comfort and arrogance. Instead of building on enforceable rules, internal democracy, and strong institutions, the party entrenched a culture of strongmen—regional power brokers who commanded state structures and negotiated national influence as personal fiefdoms. Over time, their interests diverged, and their ambitions collided.
The fall of 2015 did not happen suddenly. It was the culmination of years of internal sabotage, indiscipline, zoning violations, exclusions, and a widening disconnect from its base. The party that once prided itself as the custodian of Nigeria’s democratic tradition collapsed like Humpty Dumpty—and unlike the nursery rhyme, all the king’s men have struggled ever since to put it back together.
One of the most damaging patterns has been the party’s refusal to obey its own rules on zoning and inclusion. Nowhere is this more evident than in its treatment of the Southeast. The region has been one of the PDP’s most loyal voting blocs since 1999, consistently delivering overwhelming support at the polls. Yet when the zoning principle should have been applied fairly, the Southeast was pushed aside. This neglect created deep resentment and drove many long-standing supporters away.
Today, the PDP is paying heavily for those missteps. By treating zoning as optional, the party weakened its moral compass. Its internal power play increasingly revolved around personal bargains rather than collective survival. Into this chaos stepped former allies—many now aligned with the ruling establishment—whose interest lies in keeping the PDP disoriented and fractured.
When Nyesom Wike felt betrayed by the party, he aligned with forces that had no stake in its survival. His rebellion was a direct response to the party’s unresolved issues of zoning, trust, and power rotation. What he may not have realized initially is that he became part of a broader political strategy to push the PDP into paralysis. The plan was simple: keep the party trapped in endless litigation, factional wars, and leadership crises until the 2027 election cycle arrives. A weakened PDP cannot mount any serious opposition to the ruling party.
The real targets in this political chess game were Atiku Abubakar and Peter Obi—two figures capable of rallying national momentum. Their exit from the PDP was a survival move, but even outside the party, they remain caught in the same political forces determined to keep Nigeria’s opposition divided.
Privately, many PDP leaders now admit that the party is in political intensive care. Yet neither the ruling APC nor smaller opposition parties are interested in reviving it. A weakened PDP is convenient for them all. More troubling is that many of those who benefited most from the PDP’s past dominance now maintain one leg in APC and the other in PDP. These cross-carpeting politicians—whose loyalties are fluid and transactional—are among those tightening the lid on the party’s political coffin.
Still, there is a paradox. The PDP remains Nigeria’s most geographically spread, most diverse, and most rooted political organization. At the grassroots, the party is still strong. Local chapters across the country hold meetings, mobilize members, and maintain loyalty. The voter base remains large and deeply entrenched. What the party lacks is credible national leadership, unity of purpose, and alignment of interests at the top.
The PDP crisis is neither ideological nor structural. It is a crisis of ambitions, personal fiefdoms, and irreconcilable interests among senior stakeholders. Until those interests are realigned—or until a new generation of leaders emerges without the burden of entrenched rivalries—the party may continue its slow descent.
Yet Nigeria’s democracy needs a strong opposition. Without healthy competition, any political system risks drifting toward authoritarian tendencies. If the PDP collapses completely, the country faces a dangerous imbalance of power.
Whether the party can reinvent itself or continue its slide into irrelevance is the question of the moment. What is clear is that the PDP’s journey from dominance to fragility was not accidental. It was the product of years of neglecting internal rules, sidelining loyal regions, empowering strongmen over institutions, and ignoring the storms gathering on its horizon.
Unless a radical reset happens soon, the PDP ship may not only be fulfilling the doomsday prophecy—it may already be sailing straight into it.
Chinenye Nwaogu, a Political Commentator, wrote from Umuahia, Abia State.
