From furious lawmakers who were promised safe seats to defecting governors demanding payback, the ruling party’s decision to enforce open primaries has unleashed a civil war within the APC ahead of 2027
The All Progressives Congress just pulled the rug out from under its own members, and the fallout is getting ugly. APC National Chairman Nentawe Yilwatda has officially shut down all agitation for automatic tickets ahead of the 2027 elections, declaring that every aspirant, from sitting senators to newly defected governors, must earn their candidacy through competitive primaries. No exceptions. No shortcuts. No deals.
The announcement, made during a media briefing in Abuja, was unequivocal. Yilwatda stressed that automatic tickets contravene both the Electoral Act and the party’s constitution. All aspirants, he said, must test their popularity through either direct primaries or a consensus arrangement as provided by law. The message to the party’s ambitious political class was clear: if you want the ticket, go face the people.
On paper, it sounds like a triumph for internal democracy. In reality, it has detonated a chain of political explosions across the party that threaten to fracture the APC from the inside out.
The most immediate casualties are the scores of National Assembly members who had been lobbying aggressively for guaranteed re-election tickets. Senior senators and House members had pushed a proposal to the party’s national leadership arguing that automatic return tickets would ensure legislative continuity and reward loyalty. The pitch was simple: we kept the party strong in the chambers, so give us safe passage back in. The party leadership and, critically, the Presidency rejected the proposal outright.
The rejection has left sitting lawmakers scrambling. Many of them have spent the last three years in Abuja with minimal engagement in their constituencies, confident that party loyalty would be enough to secure their return. Now they are being told to go back to their wards, face stakeholders, and convince grassroots members that they deserve another term. For lawmakers who have been largely absent from their districts, that is a terrifying proposition.
But the fury is not limited to incumbents. The decision has also thrown a grenade into the delicate politics of party defections. Over the past year, the APC has absorbed a wave of high-profile defectors from opposition parties, including governors, senators, and House members from states like Delta, Akwa Ibom, Enugu, Rivers, Kano, Adamawa, Zamfara, and Plateau. Many of these defectors crossed the floor with one unspoken expectation: that their loyalty to the ruling party would be rewarded with guaranteed tickets.
Political commentator Sumner Sambo put it bluntly when he asserted that numerous legislators who switched allegiance to the APC were given assurances of automatic nominations. The reality, he said, is that what they were promised is not what they are currently being assured of. The betrayal, whether real or perceived, has created a simmering anger among defectors who feel they were lured under false pretenses.
The grassroots revolt is equally fierce. In Akwa Ibom State, APC stakeholders in the Ikot Ekpene constituency publicly rejected any form of consensus candidacy or automatic ticket imposition for the State House of Assembly primaries. Their argument was pointed: handpicking unpopular candidates through backroom deals would render the party vulnerable to defeat at the general elections. They demanded direct primaries and a level playing field, a direct challenge to local party bosses who prefer the control that consensus arrangements provide.
Similar protests have erupted across multiple states. Youth groups and ward-level party members are pushing back against what they see as attempts by political godfathers to circumvent the democratic process. The irony is thick: the APC, which rode to power on promises of change and reform, is now being challenged by its own members to practice what it preaches.
Then there is the elephant in the room: the presidential ticket. While the party has officially endorsed President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for 2027, the no-automatic-ticket policy technically applies to him as well. APC chieftain Charles Udeogaranya has publicly rejected the idea of a Tinubu coronation, declared his own presidential ambition, and threatened to drag the party to court if it refuses to hold a competitive primary. The party’s response has been awkward: it maintains that anyone is free to challenge Tinubu while simultaneously making clear that the president enjoys overwhelming party support.
Chairman Yilwatda has added another complication for the defectors. A new directive requires anyone seeking elective positions through the APC to present both their resignation letter from their former party and formal acceptance of that resignation. For many who defected months or years ago, obtaining these documents is nearly impossible because the party leadership structures they left have since changed. The bureaucratic requirement could effectively disqualify dozens of new entrants from contesting primaries.
The political calculus behind the no-automatic-ticket decision is not hard to see. The APC leadership knows that imposing unpopular candidates through automatic tickets would hand the opposition easy victories at the polls. In states where the party’s hold is fragile, especially newly acquired territory from defections, fielding candidates who cannot win grassroots support would be suicidal. Open primaries, however messy and divisive, at least produce candidates with demonstrated local backing.
But the short-term cost is chaos. The APC is now a party at war with itself. Sitting lawmakers are furious. Defectors feel conned. Governors are jockeying for senate seats while being told they have no guarantees. Grassroots members are emboldened to challenge establishment candidates. And at the center of it all, a 2027 presidential race that is supposed to be a formality is starting to look a lot less certain than the party leadership would like.
Nigeria’s ruling party wanted to project unity and strength heading into the next election cycle. Instead, it has opened Pandora’s box. The primaries have not even started, and the APC is already bleeding. The question now is whether the party can survive its own commitment to democracy, or whether the bickering, betrayals, and broken promises will hand the opposition the opening it has been waiting for.
