In a nation already grappling with economic woes, rampant corruption, and a tarnished global image, Senate President Godswill Akpabio has once again thrust Nigeria into the international spotlight—but for all the wrong reasons. The sexual harassment allegations leveled against him by Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, now reverberating across global media, have sparked outrage, and Akpabio’s brazen refusal to submit to an independent investigation is a glaring testament to his arrogance and the festering decay within Nigeria’s political elite. This isn’t just a scandal; it’s a national embarrassment, amplified by Akpabio’s apparent belief that he can dodge accountability while dragging Nigeria’s reputation through the mud.
Oby Ezekwesili, a fearless voice for justice and a former Nigerian minister, didn’t mince words in her scathing X post on March 22, 2025. Quoting The Economist’s expose on the “nasty place” Nigerian politics has become for women, Ezekwesili demanded that Akpabio face the facts head-on. “All sensible Nigerians have asked of you on this matter is to subject yourself to an independent investigation and public hearing of Senator Natasha Akpoti’s petition,” she wrote, her frustration palpable. Yet, Akpabio’s response—or lack thereof—has been nothing short of disgraceful. Instead of clearing his name with transparency, he’s resorted to diversionary tactics, allegedly orchestrating a fraudulent recall of Akpoti-Uduaghan’s constituents and stonewalling any genuine inquiry. Why, one must ask, is a man so confident in his innocence so terrified of the truth?
The allegations themselves are chilling. Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan, one of only four women in Nigeria’s 109-member Senate, claims Akpabio made inappropriate advances, including a disturbing incident where he allegedly suggested she “take care of him” to advance her motions in the Senate. This isn’t just a personal affront—it’s a systemic indictment of a political culture that thrives on misogyny and power plays, where women are sidelined, silenced, and, in Akpoti’s case, suspended for six months in a blatant act of retaliation. Akpabio’s defenders, including some of his fellow senators, have dismissed her claims as fabrications or “signs of weakness,” while pro-Akpabio protesters—likely bankrolled by his allies—have publicly abused her in Abuja. This isn’t leadership; it’s a grotesque display of patriarchal bullying.
Akpabio’s track record only deepens the outrage. This isn’t his first brush with scandal. In 2020, a former public official accused him of sexual harassment, an allegation he denied while threatening legal action. His tenure as governor of Akwa Ibom State and minister of Niger Delta Affairs under Muhammadu Buhari was marred by controversies, including a 2018 comparison of his party’s electoral victory to Hitler’s invasion of Poland—a statement so tone-deaf it bordered on delusional. Now, as Senate President, his refusal to face Akpoti’s allegations head-on isn’t just cowardice; it’s a betrayal of the trust Nigerians place in their leaders. If Akpabio truly believes in his innocence, why hide behind procedural excuses and Senate rulebook loopholes, as his spokesperson Ahmed Tijani Ibn Mustapha has claimed? The answer is as clear as it is damning: he knows the truth could unravel his carefully constructed façade.
This scandal isn’t just about Akpabio—it’s a mirror reflecting Nigeria’s broader crisis. With women comprising less than 4% of the Senate, the country lags shamefully behind global standards for gender equality in politics. The rejection of gender equity bills in 2022, which would have reserved seats for women and mandated their inclusion in leadership roles, underscores a systemic disdain for female representation. Akpoti’s courage in speaking out, despite facing harassment, suspension, and a vicious smear campaign—including a false rumor about her personal life—stands in stark contrast to Akpabio’s evasive maneuvers. Her global media tour, from the BBC to Deutsche Welle, has exposed Nigeria’s political rot to the world, and Akpabio’s refusal to engage only fuels the fire.
Ezekwesili’s post also highlights the timing of this debacle: while other nations are “planning their future within new global realities,” Nigeria is mired in a self-inflicted crisis of credibility. Investors, already wary of Nigeria’s corruption and instability, will think twice before trusting a government where its Senate President dodges accountability like a fugitive. Akpabio’s actions—or inaction—aren’t just a personal failing; they’re a national disgrace, eroding trust in the National Assembly and tarnishing Nigeria’s standing on the global stage.
The call is clear: Akpabio must step down, allow an impartial investigation, and reinstate Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan immediately. His refusal to do so isn’t just worrisome—it’s a declaration of war on justice, transparency, and the dignity of Nigerian women. If Akpabio won’t face the music, Nigeria’s citizens—and the international community—must ensure he’s held accountable. The world is watching, and Nigeria deserves better than a Senate President who prioritizes power over principle. Akpabio’s legacy, if he continues down this path, won’t be one of leadership but of shame—a fitting epitaph for a man too afraid to confront the truth.
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