There are few spectacles more embarrassing in politics than a man arguing passionately against himself while pretending to be attacking someone else. Psychologists call this cognitive dissonance. The rest of us call it eating your own words without choking. It is a difficult performance. The audience remembers the speech made earlier out of conviction, the newspapers preserve the quotes, and the politician is left insisting that black is white and that he has always believed the reverse of what he said. This is a classic Catch-22 situation.
Senator Adams Aliyu Oshiomhole is presently engaged in such a trial. He finds himself confronted not by Senator Godswill Akpabio, but by a far more formidable adversary: his own words.
The evidence against him is not supplied by his enemies. It is supplied by his own mouth. The falcon cannot hear the falconer.
In May 2025, Oshiomhole stood on the floor of the Senate and delivered one of the most effusive endorsements ever offered by a senator to another. Under Akpabio’s leadership, he posited, opposition politicians were joining the APC voluntarily and happily. The atmosphere in the Senate had become more cordial. Political tensions were easing. Defections were taking place without intimidation, coercion or conflict.
Then came the line that would become impossible to forget. “Mr Senate President, I thought that you would enter the Guinness Book of Records.”
For Oshiomhole, Akpabio’s leadership was not merely effective but profound. It was exceptional. He described it as “truly uncommon and increasingly uncommon.” He praised Akpabio’s patience, warmth and ability to attract political opponents through persuasion rather than pressure. He spoke admiringly of the Senate President’s smile and suggested that his leadership style had succeeded where others had failed. This was not a routine parliamentary courtesy. It was lavish public endorsement and heartfelt sentiments.
Indeed, Oshiomhole went even further to contextualize his praise of Akpabio. He reminded his audience of his reputation as someone who always speaks out of conviction, and added that public figures had an obligation to acknowledge success when they saw it.
That was Oshiomhole speaking. That was Oshiomhole’s standard. That was Oshiomhole’s record. That was Oshiomhole being Oshiomhole.
Now, fast forward to June 2026.
Appearing on a podcast, the same Oshiomhole launched one of his strongest (and strangest) attacks yet on Akpabio. Among other claims, he alleged that the Senate President’s daughter had secured employment at the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited through improper influence and outside normal procedures. The allegation was serious and spurious. It was also, according to Akpabio’s colleagues, completely false.
The Senate President’s Spokesperson stated that it is trite that whoever alleges must proof. He asserted further that none of Akpabio’s children work at NNPC or any of its subsidiaries. Suddenly, the issue was no longer about Akpabio. The issue became a test of Oshiomhole’s integrity and conscience.
How does a former labour leader, former governor, former national chairman of the ruling party and serving senator make such a damaging allegation without first establishing a basic fact: whether the person in question even works where he claims? More troubling still was Oshiomhole’s own explanation for the allegation: “Somebody told me.”
Those three words should worry every Nigerian. Not because politicians should never raise concerns about public institutions. They should. Not because powerful people should be shielded from scrutiny. They should not. But because a democracy cannot function when public accusations are built on hearsay rather than evidence.
The low standards expected from a roadside gossip are not the standards expected from a senator of the Federal Republic. And that is what makes this episode so disappointing and worrisome. Like the first Adam, this Adams gave Eve the apple of lies and digested it.
Adams should have known better. He is not an ordinary politician. His place in Nigeria’s political history compels him to be more circumspect in his communication. He rose through the labour movement to become one of the country’s most recognisable public figures. He challenged military rule. He led workers’ struggles. He governed Edo State. He chaired the APC at a critical period in its development.
Few public figures have accumulated such political capital. Yet the path he toed which made Oshiomhole formidable now appears increasingly to be covered with indignity and less than noble motives.
For much of his career, he thrived on confrontation. There was always a cause to champion, an adversary to challenge or an institution to hold accountable. That instinct served him well when it was anchored in facts and robed with decency.
The danger comes when confrontation becomes an end in itself. Then the need to fight begins to outweigh the need to verify. Then attention becomes more important than accuracy. Then the line between advocacy and recklessness begins to disappear. The contradiction in Oshiomhole’s treatment of Akpabio is therefore impossible to ignore.
A little over a year ago, he was publicly suggesting that Akpabio deserved a place in the Guinness Book of Records. Today, he paints him with a tar brush as a beneficiary of nepotism. A little over a year ago, he praised Akpabio’s leadership as a model of political inclusion and persuasion. Today, he portrays him as a leader whose conduct deserves public suspicion. A little over a year ago, he was urging Nigerians to acknowledge what was working. Today, he is making allegations that appear incapable of surviving basic scrutiny and integrity test.
What changed? Did new evidence emerge? Did Akpabio suddenly become a different person? Or is something else at work? Some observers point to Oshiomhole’s growing frustration with developments within the Senate itself, particularly debates around the chamber’s rules and leadership structure. Whether that explanation is accurate or not, it highlights an uncomfortable reality about Nigerian politics and politicians’ sweet descent.
Too often, political disagreements that should remain institutional become personal. Policy disagreements become personality conflicts. Procedural disputes become vendettas. Legitimate criticism becomes a vehicle for settling scores. And when that happens, truth is usually the first casualty. This is where Senator Oshiomhole risks damaging something far more valuable than any political rivalry.
He risks damaging his credibility. Credibility is a strange asset. It takes decades to build and only moments to diminish. It is the reason people listen when a public figure speaks. It is the foundation upon which influence rests. Once it begins to erode, every future intervention becomes harder to take seriously.
That is the tragedy here. Oshiomhole does not need sensational allegations to remain relevant. He has already earned relevance. He does not need unverified claims to command attention. His record already guarantees attention. He does not need to manufacture controversy and peddle rumours. His experience alone should mean his voice would always matter in national conversations.
What he needs is the discipline that once distinguished him from countless others in public life. The discipline to verify before accusing. The discipline to separate evidence from rumour. The discipline to recognise that prominence carries responsibilities. History is often kinder to politicians than their contemporaries. It overlooks many mistakes and forgives many errors. But history is also unforgiving when it comes to patterns.
And a pattern appears to be emerging. The labour leader who once built a reputation on speaking truth to power now risks becoming associated with speaking before establishing the truth. The politician who once demanded accountability now finds himself facing questions about his own standards. The man who urged others to “put a record” when things were going well now stands accused of abandoning the record altogether when it became politically convenient.
That is why this story is ultimately not about Godswill Akpabio. It is about Adams Aliyu Oshiomhole. It is about the danger of allowing ambition, frustration and ego to eclipse judgement. It is about how distinguished careers are rarely destroyed by a single scandal or a single defeat.
More often, they unravel through a series of avoidable choices. A careless allegation here. An unverified claim there. A growing willingness to sacrifice accuracy for effect. For a man of Oshiomhole’s stature, that should be the real concern. Because the greatest threat to his legacy is not Akpabio but ego and himself
It is the possibility that, after spending decades building a reputation for courage and credibility, Adams Oshiomole may now be remembered for diminishing both with reckless falsehoods and needless ego of his own making.
. Harries is an Abuja-based Development Communication Strategist.
