Public reactions to the recent wave of defections by state governors have been loud, emotional, and in many cases, misguided.
Commentaries frame these political movements as sudden acts of opportunism or personal ambition. That reading is shallow. What we are witnessing today did not begin with defections. It began in courtrooms.
The current political realignments were effectively predetermined by a sequence of judicial decisions, particularly those of the Supreme Court of Nigeria, which have profoundly altered political structures across several states.
Plateau State offers the clearest illustration.
In a single judicial sweep, all sixteen elected members of the Peoples Democratic Party in the Plateau State House of Assembly were removed from office.
The party’s entire legislative structure in the state was dismantled. Yet, paradoxically, the same judicial system ultimately upheld the election of Governor Caleb Mutfwang, after the Court of Appeal had earlier sacked him.
The contradiction is difficult to reconcile. A governor survives, but his party’s mandate in the legislature is erased. The result is not stability, but institutional imbalance.
A governor remains in office, while every other elected official who won alongside him on the same party platform is removed for alleged defects in party structure. The logic of such an outcome is, at best, strained. It makes little sense to me.
The consequences extended beyond the state level. At the National Assembly, a sitting senator from Plateau State, Simon Mwadkwon, who had already emerged as Minority Leader of the Senate, was also removed by court order.
This was not a peripheral figure, but a ranking officer of the legislature, displaced not by voters, but by judicial intervention.
Taken together, these outcomes sent a powerful and unmistakable signal to political actors. Party dominance could be erased through litigation. Legislative strength could vanish overnight. Executive survival could depend less on the ballot and more on judicial recalibration.
In such an environment, political behaviour adjusts accordingly.
Governors who observe their party structures hollowed out by court rulings are forced into strategic recalculations. Loyalty becomes risky. Remaining isolated within weakened party platforms becomes politically expensive.
Defection, in that context, ceases to be a moral failure and becomes a rational act of self preself-preservationxperience of Kano State follows a similar trajectory.
Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf lost at both the election tribunal and the Court of Appeal, only to prevail at the Supreme Court.
Again, the issue is not the finality of the judgment, but the political implications of such reversals. They reinforce the perception that political survival is increasingly shaped by judicial outcomes rather than electoral strength alone.
This is the deeper context missing from much of the public outrage.
Defections are being treated as the problem, when in reality they are symptoms. The underlying issue is the steady reconfiguration of political power through the courts, often in ways that weaken party systems, distort representative mandates, and leave elected executives governing without stable institutional support.
The real drama did not unfold at defection ceremonies or party secretariats. It unfolded earlier, through judgments that reordered political realities long before the public took notice.
Until there is a serious national conversation about the expanding political consequences of judicial intervention beyond dispute resolution, public debate will continue to focus on the wrong moment in the chain of events.
Defections are merely the final act.
The script was written much earlier.
A concerned citizen,
Prince Daniel (Aboki)