Between Godfathers’ Understanding Of Loyalty And What Lexicographers Say It Means -By Isaac Asabor

Nigeria’s political space is saturated with grand words that lose their meaning the moment power is at stake. Few have been abused as recklessly as “loyalty.” In dictionaries, loyalty is defined as faithfulness to a cause, a principle, or a legitimate authority. In Nigeria’s political practice, however, loyalty has been stripped of its moral and civic content and recast as personal obedience to godfathers and political benefactors. The result is a dangerous distortion in which allegiance to individuals overrides commitment to the electorate, the constitution, and the public good.

For instance, the crisis unfolding in Rivers State lays bare this contradiction. Governor Siminalayi Fubara is not on trial for incompetence, corruption, or electoral fraud. His real offence, according to his critics, is disloyalty, specifically, disloyalty to his predecessor and political sponsor, Nyesom Wike. This accusation alone reveals how far Nigeria’s political culture has drifted from democratic norms. It suggests that winning an election with the backing of a godfather does not grant autonomy but imposes lifelong indebtedness, and that asserting independence is a moral crime.

This thinking was recently articulated with unusual frankness by a Delta State APC chieftain, Chief Chukwuma Ugbah, who squarely blamed Fubara for the Rivers crisis. In his intervention, Ugbah argued that Fubara had no justification for “turning against” Wike, insisting that politics runs on alliances and structures, not goodwill, and that loyalty to those structures is non-negotiable.

“Power does not fall from the sky,” Ugbah argued. “It is built through political structures and relationships. To benefit from such a system and later turn against it is not courage but political ingratitude.” He warned that history rarely rewards those who defy their benefactors, likening politics to warfare where trust, order, and loyalty determine survival. As evidence, he cited the political fate of former Lagos State Governor Akinwunmi Ambode.

On the surface, this argument sounds hardheaded and realistic. In truth, it exposes the intellectual foundation of Nigeria’s godfather politics, a system that has little to do with democracy and everything to do with control.

What Ugbah presents as realism is better described as political feudalism. It reduces governance to debt repayment, leadership to submission, and elections to mere ratification of elite bargains. In this worldview, political office holders do not derive authority from voters but from power brokers who operate behind the scenes. The electorate becomes an afterthought.

Nigeria has seen the consequences of this logic before. In Anambra State, Dr. Chris Ngige’s refusal to surrender his mandate to the Uba political machine was branded as disloyalty. What followed was chaos: abductions, institutional paralysis, and the open desecration of state authority. Loyalty, in that episode, meant private ownership of public office.

Oyo State followed a similar script. Rashidi Ladoja was impeached not for gross misconduct but for resisting godfather control. His loyalty to the people of Oyo was framed as betrayal of party interests. Though the courts eventually restored him, the episode demonstrated how fragile democratic institutions become when personal loyalty supersedes constitutional order.

Lagos State’s experience with Ambode was less dramatic but equally revealing. A sitting governor was denied a second term not by voters but by party machinery controlled by entrenched interests. Performance mattered less than alignment. Primaries were stage-managed, and internal democracy was sacrificed. Once again, loyalty meant obedience, not service.

At this point, it is clear that Rivers State is merely the latest arena where this tired political script is playing out once again. Ugbah’s remarks openly express what many actors in the political space privately accept: that allegiance to godfathers takes precedence over accountability to voters; that so-called stability is built on obedience; and that elite pacts carry more weight than constitutional authority. This mindset is not harmless. It is neatly captured in the oft-repeated Wike refrain, “Agreement is agreement.”

First, it hollows out elections. If a governor’s real obligation is to a benefactor rather than the electorate, then elections become rituals without substance. It entrenched a partisan and transactional political environment where citizens vote, but power is exercised elsewhere.

Second, it weakens governance. A governor constantly looking over his shoulder cannot govern decisively. Policy is shaped by fear of offending unseen authorities. Reform becomes risky, and bold leadership is discouraged.

Third, it normalizes corruption. Godfather politics is inherently transactional. Support is extended with the expectation of returns, contracts, appointments, and influence over public funds. Resistance is labelled ingratitude; compliance is praised as loyalty. In this system, integrity is treated as rebellion.

Fourth, it corrodes institutions. Legislatures are weaponized, impeachments become tools of intimidation, and courts are dragged into political vendettas. Party supremacy begins to rival, and often override, constitutional supremacy.

Defenders of this order claim that loyalty guarantees stability. The evidence points the other way. Nigeria’s most severe political crises have erupted precisely because godfathers demanded loyalty beyond constitutional limits. What they seek is not stability but control; what they fear is independence.

The deeper tragedy lies in the message this system sends to emerging leaders: that competence is optional, obedience is mandatory; that vision is dangerous, but loyalty is safe; that serving the public matters less than pleasing patrons do. Over time, this produces a political class adept at survival but incapable of leadership.

Nigeria bears the cost. Development is stalled by manufactured crises. Public trust erodes. Citizens grow cynical, convinced that politics has little to do with their welfare. Democracy becomes a periodic event, not a lived reality.

Governor Fubara’s ordeal should therefore not be reduced to a personality dispute or a lecture on gratitude. It raises a fundamental democratic question: in whose interest should an elected governor act; the godfather who facilitated his rise, or the people who gave him a mandate?

Lexicographers are clear: loyalty is faithfulness to a cause or principle. In a democracy, that cause is the public interest, and that principle is constitutional governance. Nothing else is loyalty; what is today known as “Loyalty” in Nigeria’s political lexicon is not legacy in the true sense of the word; it is servitude dressed up as political wisdom.

Until Nigeria resolves this contradiction, between the godfather’s definition of loyalty and its true meaning, the cycle will persist. Governors will be judged by obedience, not performance. Godfathers will wield power without responsibility. Moreover, voters will remain spectators in a system that claims to represent them.

A democracy where godfathers matter more than citizens is democracy in name only. In addition, a political culture that punishes independence will never deliver good governance, no matter how loudly it chants the word “loyalty.”