The APC in Cross River State is acting like a party that has already won 2027. That is the most dangerous assumption it can make, because history does not reward parties that mistake incumbency for invincibility. Power feels permanent when you are inside Government House, but outside the gates, the ground shifts quietly, and by the time you notice, it is already gone.
From the wards to the LGAs, a pattern is emerging that should alarm anyone who understands how elections are actually won. The foot soldiers of Governor Bassey Otu’s administration believe the “incumbent factor” is enough. The logic is simple and fatal: he is in office, federal might is with him, and the opposition is fragmented. So why stress? Why mobilize at 6 a.m. for ward meetings? Why knock doors when you can wait for the structures to deliver on autopilot? Why tell hard truths when silence is safer and closer to power?
That attitude is how governing parties lose states they should hold with their eyes closed. Cynicism tells them the people have nowhere else to go. Complacency tells them the machinery will run itself. Ignorance tells them that silence from the street means approval. None of those things are true. Silence in politics is not consent. It is calculation. And when people calculate long enough, they vote with their feet.
The reality is that incumbency without work creates a vacuum, and nature abhors a vacuum. In that vacuum, insolence and indolent corruption take root. When aides feel untouchable, they stop listening and start issuing orders. When appointees treat public office as personal entitlement, they stop serving and start extracting. When ward leaders assume their names on a list are enough, they stop organizing and start negotiating who gets what from the top. The result is a party structure that exists on paper but is absent where it matters: on the streets, in the markets, in the motor parks, in the polling units at 2 p.m. when voters are still deciding.
The opposition knows this, even if they are not saying it loudly yet. The NDC and PDP are reawakening from their slumber, and the signs are there if you are willing to see them. Meetings are happening in corners that were quiet two years ago. Former foot soldiers are being called. Old grievances are being dusted off and reframed as reasons for realignment. Momentum is building, not because the opposition has suddenly become brilliant, but because the ruling party has made it easy to look like an alternative. The people are beginning to realize that loyalty without reciprocity is servitude, and they are asking out loud why they should keep carrying water for a system that never lets them drink.
Within the APC itself, the resentment is no longer whispered. Members are saying it openly: only a few persons are getting largesse, and the whole essence of participation in politics is not trickling down. They remind each other that during elections, everyone worked for the governor. Women mobilized, youths stood in the sun, ward chairmen sacrificed their small businesses to keep the structure alive. But when the time for benefits came, only a few cornered everything. Contracts, appointments, interventions, access—all filtered through a narrow gate guarded by people who mistake proximity for merit.
And here lies the tragedy: the governor himself may well be a good man. His humanity is real. His intent to reach the people is not in doubt to those who have seen him up close. But his lieutenants are failing him. They are not projecting his benevolence. They are not allowing his generous gift to reach the people it is meant for. The street is hungry, and that hunger is unfair to a governor whose personal disposition is not cruel. When the man at the top is seen as generous but his system delivers nothing, the blame does not stop at the gatekeepers. It rises upward. Perception is political reality, and perception is being managed badly.
That is how parties die from the inside. Not with a bang, but with a thousand small betrayals that make the ordinary member feel invisible. You don’t lose 2027 because the opposition is stronger. You lose it because your own people stop believing there’s a reason to stay. When foot soldiers feel used and discarded, they either stay home on election day or carry their energy to the other side. And a party of officials, not foot soldiers, cannot win an election. Officials don’t queue at polling units. The foot soldiers do. But foot soldiers only fight when they believe the war matters, when they see their leaders leading, and when they are not demoralized by the arrogance of those who think the job is already done.
There is another danger sitting right in front of the party. If the aftermath of the APC primaries recently held is not managed effectively, there may be implosion. Unresolved grievances from the primaries are already festering. When losers feel cheated and winners feel insecure, the party bleeds from both sides. Without deliberate reconciliation, that wound will be open by 2027, and the opposition will walk right through it.
Governor Otu still has time, but time is the one resource that will not wait. He can allow the sycophants who mistake access for influence to isolate him from the truth on the ground. He can continue to receive reports that tell him everything is fine because the people who write those reports are the same people benefiting from the status quo. Or he can shake the structure, open the system, and demand that every appointee and party leader account for what they are doing to earn the vote. He can make it clear that loyalty is measured by results in the ward, not by how loudly you praise him in Calabar. He must ensure that his generosity does not stop at the door of Government House but reaches the market women, the teachers, the youths who stood in the rain for him.
The time to act is now. Waiting until six months to the election will be too late. By then, grievances will have hardened into positions, realignment will be complete, and the opposition will have something every politician needs: a credible story of why things must change. The APC must redefine itself for reelection victory. It must move from a party of entitlement to a party of service, from a party of a few to a party of many. It must remember that political capital is perishable. You cannot bank 2023 and 2024 goodwill and expect it to pay dividends in 2027 if the machinery between now and then is idle. Elections are not won by reminding people what you did two years ago. They are won by showing up, listening, and correcting course when the people say you’ve missed the mark.
The street is quiet now. Quiet streets in politics are never a sign of peace. Often, they are a sign that people are calculating. And when they calculate, they rarely reward arrogance. A word is enough for the wise. Let the governor hear this: power is held in trust, not bequeathed. And in Cross River, the people are watching, weighing, and deciding whether to renew the contract or hand it to someone who at least pretends to care. Saying the truth is my reality!
Peter Agi (FCA)
A Public Affairs Commentator
Writes from Ijegu-Ojor
Yala LGA.
