How Gov. Fintiri’s move to APC may sow seeds of discord in Adamawa

By Ahmed Abubakar Jallo

As 2027 draws steadily into view, Adamawa’s political atmosphere is thick with rumour, calculation, and careful manoeuvring. At the centre stands Governor Ahmadu Umaru Fintiri, long regarded as a pillar of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) in the state, now reportedly flirting with the idea of crossing over to the All Progressives Congress (APC).

In Nigerian politics, defections are never accidental. They are always strategic, carefully timed, and purposeful.

The question before the APC in Adamawa is not whether Governor Fintiri has a constitutional right to join. He does. The real issue is what such a move would mean for the soul, structure, and stability of a party painstakingly built over years of opposition struggle.

A sitting governor does not move lightly, nor does he arrive empty-handed. He comes with influence, networks, expectations, and often, a succession plan.

That is where the “wahala,” to use a well-known Nigerian expression, lies.

The APC in Adamawa is not an abandoned house awaiting a new owner. It is a political fortress shaped by figures such as Nuhu Ribadu, Sadiq Walin Ganye, Buba Marwa, Abulrahman Bashir Haske, and Mustapha Salihu—men who invested political capital and personal credibility in constructing a viable alternative platform. For years, the party’s loyalists endured electoral setbacks and internal trials with the belief that perseverance would eventually yield power.

Opening the gates to a long-standing adversary without rigorous negotiation risks signalling that loyalty counts for less than expediency.

If political experience teaches anything, it is that politics punishes such perceptions.

A governor in his final term naturally turns his gaze to legacy, which in many cases is measured by succession. If the underlying objective of this rumoured defection is to influence or determine who flies the APC flag in 2027, then what appears as expansion may, in fact, be infiltration.

Parties fracture not only over ideology but also over ambition. If aspirants who have patiently waited within the APC ecosystem begin to suspect that a newcomer is being positioned to dictate their future, internal conflict becomes inevitable.

It is for this reason that history offers warnings, such as the Adeleke syndrome that manifested in Osun State.

The Adeleke Syndrome in Adamawa: A Blueprint for Failure

When Governor Ademola Adeleke of Osun State was linked to possible alignment discussions involving the APC, resistance from entrenched party structures was swift. The anxiety was not personal; it was structural. A sitting governor entering an established opposition platform carries significant influence—an influence that can distort internal balance.

The lesson was simple: integration without clarity breeds suspicion.

Adamawa’s APC must avoid romanticising the optics of a high-profile defection while ignoring the mechanics of coexistence. A governor does not merely join; he negotiates relevance, seeks leverage, and expects influence.

If that influence extends to candidate selection, party hierarchy, or strategic direction, long-standing members may interpret it as displacement rather than growth.

And in politics, displacement breeds open rebellion.

Political parties survive on morale as much as numbers. An enlarged platform that alienates its core may appear impressive on paper while bleeding internally.

The Ethnic Time Bomb: A Proxy War Disguised as Defection

Beyond ambition lies an even more volatile layer. Adamawa’s politics cannot be separated from its delicate ethnic and traditional architecture. Decisions made at the top often ripple through communities with deep historical sensitivities.

Governor Fintiri’s creation of new emirates during his tenure has generated divergent interpretations across the state. While some view it as administrative reform, others see it as a recalibration of traditional influence.

Within the APC itself, various power blocs exist, including networks aligned with prominent figures such as Nuhu Ribadu. Introducing a powerful external actor into this already complex equation without consensus risks transforming manageable rivalries into hardened factions.

If sections of the party interpret Fintiri’s entry as part of a broader ethnic-balancing strategy or a counterweight against specific blocs, the consequences could be profound. What is publicly presented as party expansion could privately evolve into a proxy war.

Internal distrust is far more destructive than external opposition.

The APC’s strength in Adamawa has been anchored in its identity as a disciplined alternative. Blurring that identity through a hurried embrace of a former adversary may erode the clarity that energised its base.

There is also a national dimension to consider. Political branding matters. A party that absorbs its fiercest critics without transparent ideological alignment risks appearing transactional rather than principled. Voters may reasonably begin to question whether party lines still hold any meaning.

None of this suggests that alliances are inherently wrong. Democracies evolve through coalition-building. However, coalitions require structure, safeguards, and a shared vision. Without these elements, they risk becoming temporary arrangements that collapse under pressure.

The approaching 2027 contest will not be won by arithmetic alone. It will be decided by unity, trust, and coherence. An APC that feels internally displaced cannot campaign with conviction.

Adamawa’s APC, therefore, stands at a defining moment. It must weigh immediate advantage against long-term stability and ask whether absorbing a powerful incumbent will strengthen the house or shake its foundation.

Welcoming Governor Fintiri may appear bold. But boldness without foresight can be indistinguishable from a self-inflicted crisis.

In politics, survival belongs not to the largest gathering, but to the most cohesive one. If the APC chooses to open its doors, it must do so with clear terms, careful negotiation, and a firm grip on its internal balance.

Anything less would not be strategy—it would be implosion masquerading as magnanimity.

Prof. Jallo, a political commentator, writes from Yola.