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By Josie Itoyah-Splendor
There is a story in the ancient texts that feels painfully familiar today: Esau, returning from the field weary and hungry, sells his birthright—his future inheritance and legacy—to his younger brother Jacob for a mere plate of stew. It was a transaction of profound short-sightedness, a moment of weakness where an immeasurable treasure was exchanged for a temporary comfort.
I find myself reflecting on this story as I watch the ongoing tumult within the People’s Democratic Party (PDP). How did we, the party that laid the foundational pillars of Nigeria’s current democratic experiment, fall to this level? How did a political behemoth become a stage where charlatans, social media rascals, and political thugs deface our collective heritage for what can only be described as a modern-day “plate of porridge”?
Let us not forget the house we built. This is the party that has produced three Presidents, scores of distinguished Senators and House of Representatives members. It is the platform that nurtured Nigeria’s first set of ministers in this democratic era and gave the world figures like Dr. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, President of the World Trade Organization. It is the home of the President of the African Development Bank and respected international diplomats like Dr. Amina Mohammed. This is not mere chest-beating; it is a reminder of the stature we are so carelessly squandering.
On the back of the PDP, Nigeria rose to a democratic height where, for the first time, a sitting President gracefully relinquished power, prioritising the nation’s stability and the preservation of our democracy over personal ambition. That single act saved lives and cemented a legacy of sacrifice that we now seem so eager to spit upon.
This is the painful part. The PDP is not just a political machine; it is an ecosystem. It provides careers, succour, hope, and livelihood to millions of Nigerians—from the grassroots volunteer in Umuahia to the political strategist in Abuja. Their dignity is tied to the survival and health of this party. When we fight like rabid dogs tearing at our own flesh, what becomes of their hope? Who is listening to their silent anxieties?
Yet, in the midst of this, we are inundated with the most disgraceful spectacles. Under the guise of social media activism, we wield words like weapons, fighting each other with an unprofessional venom that should be reserved for the opposition. Brothers will always argue, but it is sacrilegious to fight to the death. It is an abomination to defecate in your father’s house, the very house that gave you shelter and identity.
The most profound betrayal, however, lies with those entrusted with the power to steer the ship. Members invested their trust and faith in their leaders to save the party and, by extension, fortify Nigeria’s democracy. But a haunting question now lingers in the air: Are they trading the soul of the PDP for a plate of porridge?
Has “power to the people” morphed into “power to the pocket”? Has individual interest swollen to a size that eclipses the collective good?
A political platform, by its very nature, cannot survive on personal aspiration alone. It is the most people-inclined industry there is. Its lifeblood is the collective interest, the shared dream, the united front. The day its participants start looking out only for themselves is the day a political party begins its irreversible death spiral.
I look at our dear PDP, and I am filled with a profound fear. Is this our case? Are we, like Esau, so fixated on the immediate morsel that we can no longer see the priceless, indivisible legacy we are about to surrender? The cost of this indivisibility is far, far greater than any temporary plate of porridge. We must remember that, before it is too late.
