Inside Nigeria’s Power Puzzle: Why Governors Fear Their Deputies

IN Nigeria’s stormy political landscape, one mystery has persisted for decades: why deputy governors almost never succeed their principals. Across states and administrations, the office that is constitutionally designed to ensure continuity has instead become a political graveyard — where ambition meets resistance and loyalty rarely pays off.

From Kebbi to Enugu, Imo to Niger, former deputy governors who spoke with our correspondents paint a picture of deep-seated mistrust, political betrayal, and systemic marginalisation. Their experiences reveal that Nigeria’s deputy governors are often treated as “spare tyres”—useful only when needed, sidelined when decisions matter, and discarded when ambition surfaces.

Kebbi: Zoning and Political Deals Block Deputies’ Rise

In Kebbi State, former deputy governors Bello Dantani Argungu and Ibrahim Aliyu agree that a mix of political zoning and party dynamics have made it nearly impossible for deputies to succeed governors.

“There are states where deputies became governors,” Argungu explained, “but Kebbi has never recorded such a development. Sometimes, the zoning formula simply shuts that door.”

Aliyu added that only in rare cases — where there is “a written agreement” or extraordinary goodwill — can a deputy seamlessly take over. “Without trust and clear consensus within the party, the governor’s circle will resist the deputy’s rise,” he said.

“They Don’t Want Us to Find Out Their Secrets” – Ketso

Former Niger State Deputy Governor Ahmed Mohammed Ketso offered perhaps the most candid insight into the growing mistrust between governors and their deputies.

According to him, three main factors explain why governors prefer outsiders to succeed them: financial secrecy, political insecurity, and fear of revenge.

“Most deputy governors are excluded financially,” Ketso revealed. “They are not allowed access to the state’s real financial records. The governor doesn’t want his deputy to take over and expose atrocities that could lead to probes.”

He also blamed the “kitchen cabinet”—powerful aides and advisers around the governor—for deepening the rift. “They see the deputy as a threat to their future relevance. They tell the governor the deputy cannot be trusted, creating unnecessary tension.”

Ketso said many governors suppress their deputies so much that “they fear the deputies will avenge the humiliation if they ever become governors.”

Despite this, he insists most deputies work hard for their states and deserve a fair chance at succession. “During my time, I contributed meaningfully to governance, but like many others, I was deliberately kept in the dark about critical decisions.”

Enugu: When Impeachment Became a Weapon

In Enugu, former deputy governor Sunday Onyebuchi still recalls the scars of his controversial impeachment in 2014, which he described as “a politically motivated plot to end my career.”

Onyebuchi, who served under then-Governor Sullivan Chime, said his removal was not about misconduct but about political succession.

“My impeachment was orchestrated to block my chances of succeeding Governor Chime when he was ill. It was a way of neutralising me politically,” he said.

Since Enugu’s creation, no deputy governor has ever succeeded a sitting governor. Political observers attribute this to what they call “the Enugu fear factor” — the fear of the unknown that drives sitting governors to crush potential successors early.

Imo: A Promise Broken and a Friendship Betrayed

Few stories capture the treachery of Nigeria’s succession politics better than that of Prince Eze Madumere, former deputy governor of Imo State.

At the beginning of Governor Rochas Okorocha’s second term, Madumere was seen as his political heir. “He gave me his word that I would succeed him,” Madumere recounted. “We had worked together for years. But when the time came, he chose his son-in-law, Uche Nwosu.”

The fallout was dramatic. Madumere accused Okorocha of betrayal, vowing that “no man can stop my ambition.” But the political machine that once backed him turned against him — including allies he had personally groomed.

“The greatest opposition I faced came from people I brought into politics,” he lamented.

Madumere argues that the Constitution needs to be amended to define the role of deputy governors more clearly. “We function as spare tyres. We are only needed when the governor is unavailable or incapacitated. Otherwise, we are excluded from governance,” he said.

When Fate, Not Faith, Opens the Door

For the few deputy governors who eventually became governors, most owe their elevation to circumstance rather than succession planning.

• Lucky Aiyedatiwa (Ondo State) rose after Governor Rotimi Akeredolu’s death.

• Goodluck Jonathan (Bayelsa) became governor following Diepreye Alamieyeseigha’s impeachment — and later ascended to Nigeria’s presidency after Yar’Adua’s death.

• Patrick Yakowa (Kaduna) became governor when Namadi Sambo was elevated to vice president.

• Virginia Etiaba (Anambra) became Nigeria’s first female governor after Peter Obi’s impeachment.

• Adebayo Alao-Akala (Oyo) and Ibrahim Gaidam (Yobe) similarly benefited from impeachments and deaths in office.

• In 2015, Abdullahi Ganduje in Kano succeeded Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso peacefully — a rare instance of a deputy completing the transition with his principal’s blessing.

Political analysts say these examples prove that deputy governors rarely become governors through planned transitions. Instead, it takes “accidents of fate” — death, impeachment, or federal intervention — to elevate them.

A Cycle of Distrust

Across Nigeria, the deputy-governor conundrum continues to expose a deeper flaw in the country’s political culture: a zero-sum approach to power.

Governors, once elected, often view their deputies as rivals rather than teammates. Deputies, in turn, are left to navigate political minefields where loyalty is demanded but rarely rewarded.

As Prince Madumere put it, “Until we redefine the powers and roles of deputy governors in the Constitution, they will continue to be victims of political convenience — useful when needed, dispensable when not.”

In the end, the deputy governor’s seat remains one of the most powerful yet powerless offices in Nigeria — a throne within reach, but never within grasp.