Is Wike Pushing Himself Toward Being Fired? -By Psychologist John Egbeazien Oshodi

THE MOMENT WHEN A MAN STOPS FIGHTING OPPONENTS AND STARTS FIGHTING HISTORY

There comes a time in political life when a leader is no longer battling rivals but instead struggling against change itself. That is where Nyesom Wike now stands. His remarks that “there is nothing like PDP or APC in Rivers State,” his declaration that “if you are pursuing Wike, you’ll miss the road,” his repeated insistence that “agreement is agreement,” and his visible anger at Abuja’s presence show something deeper than political frustration. They reveal fear. The fear that power, which once moved obediently in his direction, has found new pathways. His public tone is no longer strategic. It is emotional. It is heavy with the realization that the era of unquestioned dominance has quietly begun to dissolve.

HOW A CONTROL SYSTEM WAS BUILT — AND HOW IT BEGAN TO UNRAVEL

For years, Wike shaped Rivers State around a command structure that rewarded loyalty and punished dissent. Those who rose under him understood that upward movement required approval from above. The language of politics became the language of allegiance. That construction gave him a powerful internal narrative: that in Rivers, political life depended on him. But political environments are not monuments. They change, sometimes slowly and sometimes rapidly. New actors appear. Institutions re-adjust. The man who once seemed indispensable eventually discovers that decisions begin happening without him. The true shock is not that others gain influence. The shock is that the state keeps moving, even when he is not at the center of control. That shock began to surface the day Governor Siminalayi Fubara no longer operated as a subordinate orbiting a former mentor.

FUBARA DID NOT FIGHT BACK — HE OUTGREW THE STRUCTURE

What makes Wike’s frustration particularly intense is that Fubara did not wage war. He did not insult him publicly, ridicule him, or assemble a hostile tribe. Instead, he did something more powerful psychologically. He realigned upward. He stepped into federal legitimacy. He found footing outside the old godfather network. His movement from PDP into APC, and into the sphere of Abuja security and political stability, meant that his survival no longer rested solely on a past benefactor. Independence replaced dependence. In political psychology, this moment is the breaking point for every controlling figure. The former protégé becomes an adult actor, one with alternatives. For Wike, this did not merely feel like political restructuring. It felt like betrayal. Not because Fubara attacked him, but because Fubara stopped asking permission.

WHEN WIKE SAID THERE IS NO PDP AND NO APC — HE WAS NOT TALKING ABOUT PARTIES

When Wike stood before a crowd and declared, “There is nothing like PDP or APC in Rivers State,” it sounded radical but it was not analytical. It was psychological. He was asserting control rather than describing reality. That statement signaled to APC that formal authority stops at the borders of Rivers. It signaled to PDP, the party that expelled him, that their loss meant nothing because their existence depended on him. It subtly implied to the presidency that while they govern Nigeria, he still determines political life in Rivers. This is not democratic language. It is proprietary language. It suggests that the state itself has been internalized as personal property. But no territory permanently belongs to any one political figure. And reality has already begun correcting that illusion.

THE TRANSACTION HE THOUGHT EXISTED — AND WHY IT FAILED

Inside Wike’s thinking exists a mental contract. He believes he helped deliver Rivers to President Tinubu. He believes his maneuvering contributed significantly to the presidential victory in the state. And therefore, emotionally, he believes Tinubu owes him permanent protection. This silent thought drives his expectations: I worked for you, you must now preserve my dominance. But presidents do not rule based on personal emotional agreements. They cannot reorganize entire systems simply to keep one former governor permanently comfortable. Tinubu made a different decision. He maintained institutional calm. He recognized Fubara. He favored stability over loyalty politics. The moment that happened, Wike’s imagined transaction dissolved. His anger since then has been less about policy and more about disappointment that his perceived leverage did not guarantee endless influence.

THE STATEMENT ABOUT 2027 — SUPPORT THAT HIDES ANGER

When Wike says, “Tinubu’s own for 2027 is settled,” it sounds like strong endorsement. But beneath it sits calculation. If the future election matters, then party structures matter as well. No serious president tolerates a fractured state machine in a critical region heading into an election cycle. Yet Wike, while praising Tinubu, returns home to say APC does not effectively exist in Rivers. That contradiction exposes the emotional gap. He wants proximity to Tinubu as a person, while rejecting Tinubu as the head of an institutional system. He wants private access but rejects party discipline. That is not political loyalty. That is personal survival instinct dressed as support.

WHEN PRAISE FOR THE PRESIDENT HIDES RESENTMENT TOWARD THE PRESIDENT’S DECISION

The deeper truth is that Wike’s frustration is not only aimed at Fubara. It is quietly directed at President Tinubu. The National Security Adviser visited Rivers and told the governor, “The President is happy with you.” That sentence symbolized federal validation of the man Wike once produced politically. To Wike, that was not a mere courtesy statement. It was a sign that Abuja had accepted Fubara as fully legitimate. When Wike later said that after announcing money in Rivers “they will collect,” he was implying that federal emissaries are circling to benefit. The psychological message is that Abuja is interfering improperly. But in truth, what hurt was not interference. What hurt was displacement. Federal approval had moved past him.

HOW WIKE TURNED HIS FRUSTRATION AGAINST STRUCTURES — NSA, APC, PDP, AND THE GOVERNOR

The crisis is not that Wike is angry. The crisis is that his anger is now directed at key structures of the state simultaneously. Against the NSA, he implied opportunism, even though the NSA represents presidential authority in matters of national stability. Against APC leadership, he claimed irrelevance, even though he serves in an APC government. Against PDP, he dismisses them entirely, though they shaped his political life before expelling him. Against Governor Fubara, he constantly challenges legitimacy, denying that the governor becomes the automatic political head of the state once seated. This combination is politically hazardous. Emotional conflict has now turned outward against institutions that do not argue back. They simply outlast.

THE QUESTION OF WHO IS “001” — AND THE TRUTH HE DOES NOT WANT TO ACCEPT

Across Nigeria, a straightforward principle guides political order: the sitting governor is the chief political head of the state. This applies everywhere. Wike himself enjoyed that privilege. Today he argues that Fubara is not the “001” of APC in Rivers, even though by structural design, a sitting governor assumes that role. Whether Wike likes him or not does not change that rule. Even the President recognizes the political primacy of governors in their states. Yet Wike rejects it, because acknowledging it would mean publicly admitting that his own cycle of absolute control has ended. This is not about technical disagreement. It is about emotional resistance to political adulthood emerging around him.

THE FAMOUS PHRASE “AGREEMENT IS AGREEMENT” — A WINDOW INTO CONTROL

When Wike repeats, “Agreement is agreement,” many Nigerians understand the subtext. He is referring to the widely discussed understanding that Governor Fubara would not seek a second term. To Wike, this arrangement was strategic. A governor without a re-election goal remains dependent on those who installed him. But when Fubara secured federal confidence, that “agreement” transformed from political tool to restraint. And restraints do not survive indefinitely. What angers Wike is not only that Fubara may run. It is that Fubara now possesses the freedom to choose. And nothing threatens the psychology of a political godfather more than a former protégé who no longer requires validation.

WHY THESE FIGHTS LEAD TO SELF-DESTRUCTION, NOT VICTORY

A politician can survive conflict with opponents. He cannot easily survive repeated conflict with institutions. Challenging PDP is emotional. Challenging APC while serving in their government is reckless. Suggesting opportunism around the NSA is institutional disrespect. Attempting to delegitimize a sitting governor who has federal recognition is politically unsustainable. Each move isolates him further, not because people dislike him, but because systems protect themselves. The presidency, the security apparatus, and party leaderships do not respond loudly to such behavior. They simply make calm administrative decisions. Influence is reduced. Invitations decline. Standing disappears. And the former center of attention slowly becomes a spectator.

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE CONVOY FINALLY STOPS

Today, Wike still moves with escorts, convoys, and authority symbols. But all of these are attached to office, not to personality. Once office is removed, the resources travel with it. The same voices shouting admiration will begin aligning elsewhere. Not because they are ungrateful, but because political loyalty follows relevance. Many powerful men learn this lesson only after their final security siren goes silent. The shock is not that friends disappear. The shock is realizing those friendships were rooted in proximity to power rather than affection.

THE INNER PSYCHOLOGY OF A MAN WHO HAS FUSED IDENTITY WITH CONTROL

Listening to Wike today reveals a man whose self-worth has merged with authority. Criticism feels personal. Institutional pressure feels like humiliation. Normal leadership transition feels like punishment. This is not uncommon among leaders who have spent years at the center of every political conversation. The difficulty comes when the environment inevitably evolves. Without psychological adjustment, the leader begins to fight everyone. He interprets correction as betrayal, compromise as weakness, and dialogue as disrespect. In reality, nothing unusual is happening. Only power has obeyed its nature. It is moving.

THERAPEUTIC ENDING — ACCEPTING CHANGE BEFORE CHANGE SPEAKS FOR ITSELF

There are moments in public life when the contest is no longer about opponents, but about reality itself. Power does not stay fixed. It shifts, rearranges, and eventually settles where it is most useful. No individual, no matter how dominant for a season, can hold it permanently in their hands. Rivers State, like every other political space, will ultimately answer to institutions, processes, party structures, and the rhythm of time — not to any single personality.

If Wike continues on this path, insisting that everything must revolve around him, the conclusion may not play out loudly. It may not arrive with drama or confrontation. It may simply arrive quietly, through gradual isolation, fading influence, and decisions being taken without him. Systems rarely argue when they have decided to move on. They simply continue working.

And there is something else worth reflecting on. Public life comes with memory — and with files, reports, and unanswered questions that never fully disappear. Those who once stood at the center soon discover that when the noise fades, scrutiny grows sharper. For anyone in that position, adding unnecessary confrontations only invites more pressure, more exposure, and more emotional strain. In simple terms: there is no need to keep hurting oneself by fighting every shadow. Sometimes stepping back is not weakness — it is self-preservation.

If that day of quiet transition arrives, the clearest lesson may not come from critics or from rivals. It will come from silence. The silence of sirens that no longer follow. The silence of those who once applauded but have quietly aligned elsewhere. The silence that reveals what many powerful men learn only at the end — that the cheers were never truly about them. They were about the authority they temporarily carried.

Power travels. Power moves to the next seat. And history has always shown that it never belongs to anyone forever.

About the Author

Prof. John Egbeazien Oshodi is an American psychologist, an expert in policing and corrections, and an educator with expertise in forensic, legal, clinical, and cross-cultural psychology, including public ethical policy. A native of Uromi, Edo State, Nigeria, and son of a 37-year veteran of the Nigeria Police Force, he has long worked at the intersection of psychology, justice, and governance. In 2011, he helped introduce advanced forensic psychology to Nigeria through the National Universities Commission and Nasarawa State University, where he served as Associate Professor of Psychology.

He teaches in the Doctorate in Clinical and School Psychology at Nova Southeastern University; the Doctorate Clinical Psychology, BS Psychology, and BS Tempo Criminal Justice programs at Walden University; and lectures virtually in Management and Leadership Studies at Weldios University and ISCOM University. He is also the President and Chief Psychologist at the Oshodi Foundation, Center for Psychological and Forensic Services, United States.

Prof. Oshodi is a Black Republican in the United States but belongs to no political party in Nigeria—his work is guided solely by justice, good governance, democracy, and Africa’s development. He is the founder of Psychoafricalysis (Psychoafricalytic Psychology), a culturally grounded framework that integrates African sociocultural realities, historical awareness, and future-oriented identity. He has authored more than 500 articles, multiple books, and numerous peer-reviewed works on Africentric psychology, higher education reform, forensic and correctional psychology, African democracy, and decolonized models of clinical and community engagement.