Nyesom Wike’s latest political chant — “agreement is agreement” — is not the language of democratic persuasion; it is the tone of decree. It echoes less like a social contract freely entered and more like a commandment issued from a throne that tolerates neither questions nor dissent. In a constitutional democracy, agreements are subject to law, reason, and public interest. Only in despotic settings are agreements invoked as sacred relics, immune from scrutiny and explanation.

When a public figure repeatedly shouts an agreement into the ears of a whole state yet refuses to disclose its content, suspicion naturally follows. Rivers people are not vassals, and Nigeria is not a feudal estate. If Wike insists that agreement is agreement, then elementary democratic decency demands that he tells Rivers people and Nigerians what that agreement contains, who the parties are, when it was signed, and under what moral and legal authority it was made.

More importantly, how does this mysterious agreement align with the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria? Does it respect the sovereignty of the people, the independence of elected offices, and the separation of powers? Or is it one of those private political covenants that seek to subordinate public mandate to personal control? An agreement that contradicts the Constitution is not binding; it is void, no matter how loudly it is proclaimed.

Wike should also clarify how this alleged pact tallies with the Constitution of the All Progressives Congress. He is not a card-carrying member of the APC, and no amount of proximity to power alters that fact. Political parties are governed by rules, not personal bravado. On what authority, then, does a non-member brandish an “agreement” as though it binds a ruling party and an elected governor?

Even more fatal to the argument is the political reality Wike avoids: Governor Siminalayi Fubara has defected to the APC. Whatever private understanding existed under a different partisan roof has been overtaken by political reason and constitutional consequence. Defection is not a footnote; it is a fundamental rupture. One cannot cling to yesterday’s chains while claiming relevance in today’s political order.

History, too, is an unforgiving witness. Wike’s sudden sanctification of agreements rings hollow when weighed against his own record with political allies. At the 2022 PDP presidential primary, he stood before Nigerians, hand raised to heaven, and vowed loyalty to whoever emerged. The nation watched. He lost — and the vow evaporated. That moment alone stains his current sermon on fidelity.

He later reinvented himself as the apostle of Southern Presidency, calling it a matter of principle. Yet records show that after losing the presidential ticket, he eagerly submitted himself for consideration as running mate to a Northern candidate. One is compelled to ask: did principle arrive only after ambition was denied? Or is principle, like agreement, something to be activated only when convenient?

This elasticity of conviction defines the Wike political brand. Agreements, principles, loyalties — all appear firm until they obstruct personal ambition, at which point they are bent, stretched, or discarded. It is this malleability that makes his current posture toward Governor Fubara appear less like moral outrage and more like wounded authority struggling to reassert dominance.

The contrast with President Bola Tinubu, whom Wike simultaneously flatters and envies, is instructive. Tinubu built political capital through consistency — consistency in party building, ideological patience, and respect for internal processes. He did not burn down platforms because outcomes displeased him. He did not weaponize agreements against the electorate.

Wike, on the other hand, has a long history of torching bridges once they no longer serve his immediate interest. He turned on Rotimi Amaechi, who elevated him into prominence. He turned against Goodluck Jonathan, the very president under whose watch he became governor. He later turned on Dr. Peter Odili, after publicly swearing he never would. These are not rumours; they are political landmarks.

Against this backdrop, his moral interrogation of Fubara collapses under its own weight. With what sincerity does a man who has repeatedly broken faith now demand unquestioning loyalty from another? With what authority does a habitual defector from his own words preach permanence to others?

Wike’s obsession with relevance — today in 2027 calculations, tomorrow in whispered 2031 ambitions — appears to drive this entire confrontation. The battle is less about Rivers State and more about preserving leverage for future negotiations. Rivers people are reduced, once again, to collateral in elite power chess.

Yet Rivers is not owned by any godfather, past or present. The state belongs to its people, and its governor holds office by constitutional mandate, not private lease. No agreement, however loudly proclaimed, supersedes the will of the electorate or the supremacy of the Constitution.

If Wike truly believes in the sanctity of agreements, let him submit his own political history to public judgment. Let him explain which agreements he kept, which he broke, and why Nigerians should believe that this one — shrouded in secrecy — deserves blind obedience.

Until then, “agreement is agreement” remains not a principle but a threat; not a democratic argument but a despotic slogan. Rivers people deserve transparency, constitutionalism, and leadership freed from the politics of personal bondage. Anything less is an insult to their intelligence and a betrayal of the republic.

_Dr. Precious Nchelem is the CEO, Rivers People\'s Assembly for Transparency and Good Governance._

3rd January, 2026.