Category: Opinion

By Ezefi Mike Udoh

In representative democracy, progress is neither accidental nor instantaneous; it is the cumulative reward of vision sustained, experience deepened, and trust renewed. For Nkanu East and West Federal Constituency, the question before the people is not merely one of choice, but of continuity—whether to consolidate gains already made or to interrupt a trajectory that has begun to yield measurable dividends. On this score, the case for returning Rt. Hon. Nnolim Nnaji to the National Assembly is compelling, persuasive, and principled.

Since assuming office, Rt. Hon. Nnaji has demonstrated that representation is more than presence in chambers; it is presence in people’s lives. His tenure has been marked by purposeful engagement—legislative participation anchored on constituency interest, empowerment initiatives that touch women and youths across wards, and a consistent visibility that bridges Abuja and home. In a political climate where distance often defines leadership, he has chosen proximity. Where rhetoric often substitutes for results, he has delivered outcomes.

Performance, however, is only half the argument. The other half is continuity—the often underrated force that transforms good beginnings into enduring legacies.

Legislative effectiveness matures with time. Institutional relationships deepen. Policy pursuits gain traction. Constituency projects evolve from isolated interventions into coherent development pathways. To disrupt this momentum is to reset the clock; to renew it is to accelerate progress.

Rt. Hon. Nnaji’s record suggests a learning curve already climbed and a leadership rhythm firmly established. Returning him to the National Assembly is not an act of sentiment; it is an investment in institutional memory, strategic consistency, and expanding influence. It is to say that Nkanu East and West understands that development is a relay, not a sprint—and that handing the baton back to a proven runner is the surest way to finish strong.

Moreover, continuity sends a powerful message beyond the constituency: that performance is rewarded, that service is recognised, and that democratic trust is renewed when promises translate into impact. It strengthens the constituency’s bargaining power, amplifies its voice, and ensures that ongoing initiatives are not abandoned midstream but refined, expanded, and completed.

In renewing the mandate of Rt. Hon. Nnolim Nnaji, Nkanu East and West would be affirming a simple but profound truth: that leadership tested and proven deserves the opportunity to do more. The future is best secured not by frequent change, but by faithful progress—by allowing good work to mature into great outcomes.

Continuity, in this moment, is not complacency.

It is conviction.

It is confidence.

It is the wise choice of a people determined to move forward—together.

By Chibuike Ugwuanyi

Leadership is often discussed in the language of power, position, and privilege, yet history repeatedly shows that the most enduring leaders are shaped not by authority alone but by values formed early and tested over time. Long before titles are earned or platforms acquired, the foundations of leadership are laid quietly in childhood experiences, community interactions, and an instinctive response to the needs of others. This truth finds clear expression in the life journey of Chief Samson Chukwu Nnamani, whose path to public relevance has been guided less by ambition and more by a consistent ethic of service.

Born in 1971 into the family of Nnamani Chukwu of Ajama-Akpawfu in Nkanu East Local Government Area of Enugu State, Chief Nnamani grew up within a close-knit rural community where shared responsibility and communal survival were not abstract ideals but daily practice. In such settings, the welfare of one person was inseparable from that of the collective, and compassion was not optional – it was expected. These early influences later became defining traits in his adult life.

From his formative years, he was known among peers not merely for academic engagement but for an unusual sensitivity to the struggles of others. Schoolmates recall a young man who instinctively stepped in to assist classmates who lacked basic necessities, whether through material support, advocacy, or quiet encouragement. This disposition was not cultivated for recognition; rather, it appeared to be an extension of character – an internal compass oriented toward fairness and empathy.

As he progressed through primary and secondary education, this reputation deepened. Within age-grade circles and community youth groups, he was widely regarded as approachable and dependable, someone who could be trusted to act in the interest of others. While many adolescents are consumed by self-definition, Chief Nnamani’s defining impulse was outward-looking. He paid attention to those falling behind and sought ways, however modest, to bring them along.

These traits became more pronounced as he matured and encountered broader social realities. Exposure to inequality, both within and beyond his immediate environment, sharpened his awareness of how opportunity, or the lack of it shapes human destiny. Rather than fostering resentment, these observations strengthened his resolve to become part of the solution. Even as personal aspirations evolved, the underlying motivation remained constant: to create value that extended beyond self.

Those who interacted with him during his early adult years often speak of a man who listened more than he spoke and acted more than he promised. In a society where public generosity is sometimes performative, his approach was notably understated. Assistance was offered quietly, relationships were maintained with sincerity, and commitments were honoured without fanfare. This consistency gradually earned him trust across social strata, reinforcing his standing as a person whose word carried weight.

Over time, as life experiences expanded beyond local boundaries and opportunities emerged abroad, his worldview broadened without losing its moral centre. Living outside Nigeria exposed him to structured systems of social support and organised philanthropy, further shaping his understanding of how individual success could be leveraged for collective good. Rather than disconnecting him from home, this exposure deepened his sense of responsibility to the communities that shaped him.

It was this convergence of early values and global perspective that later crystallised into a more structured commitment to humanitarian service. The decision to formalise years of informal assistance into an organised platform was not sudden; it was the natural progression of a lifelong pattern. Friends and associates often note that the creation of the Odera Helping Hand Foundation was less an initiative than a continuation of an institutional expression of habits already ingrained.

What distinguishes Chief Samson Chukwu Nnamani’s leadership style is not merely generosity but intentionality. His interventions are guided by an understanding that dignity matters as much as relief. Whether supporting education, healthcare, or economic empowerment, the emphasis has consistently been on restoring agency to beneficiaries rather than fostering dependency. This philosophy reflects a leader who understands development as a partnership, not a transaction.

Community leaders across Enugu State have repeatedly described him as a bridge-builder – someone able to relate comfortably with traditional institutions, youth groups, professionals, and the most vulnerable members of society. Such versatility is rare and speaks to a leadership identity grounded in authenticity rather than performance. It is also a reminder that influence rooted in character often outlasts influence derived from position.

In an era marked by cynicism toward public figures, the story of Chief Samson Chukwu Nnamani offers a counter-narrative. It suggests that leadership can still be anchored in conscience, that compassion can coexist with effectiveness, and that service need not be loud to be transformative. His journey underscores the idea that the true test of leadership is not how much power one wields, but how consistently one shows up for others – especially when no applause is guaranteed.

As his humanitarian engagements continue to touch lives across communities, the values formed in Ajama-Akpawfu decades ago remain clearly visible. They surface in every intervention, every partnership, and every life restored to hope. In this sense, his story is not merely a personal biography but a case study in how early character, when nurtured and sustained, can evolve into leadership that genuinely serves humanity.

By Okey Ikechukwu

The four good things that can be said upfront about the South East Development Commission are: (1) The composition of its leadership team; (2) The Commission’s approach to stakeholder engagement; (3) The scope, , and analytical rigour of its public engagement of last week, which lasted from 3rd to 6th of this month of February; and (4) The fact that it is in a position to learn from the mistakes of older Commissions of the same type; some of which are now nothing more than procurement platforms for the elite with nothing to show in terms of real development of the regions they were set up together develop.

The Concept Note for the South East Vision 2050 (SEV2050), 2026, Stakeholder Forum was well put together. The background, rationale, overarching objectives, technical deep dives and stakeholder feedback clusters were all well-conceived. Last week’s event, which was carried out in collaboration with the Office of the Vice President, Ministry of Regional Development and Governors/Governments of the South East was well contextualized.

The objectives were apt, the Key Messages focused on issues the relevance of which cannot be contested. The Forum agenda was comprehensive. Under the broad theme of “Framing a Shared Future for the South East: Challenges, Choices and the Vision 2050”, I was required to give the major opening Keynote Speech titled “Regional Diagnostics: Where We Are, Where We Could Be, and What is Holding Us back”.

I started by pointing out that the idea of framing a shared future for the South East requires those aspiring to do such a framing to first admit the need for some consensus on the meaning and trajectory of that future. They must also agree on its broad advantages and what it offers each of the parties concerned.

It is within this context that anyone would be interested in a “shared” future, as presented in the projections of the SEV2050 project. Which means that the Commission must first do the homework, and grassroots consultation leading up to the desired ideals. This is where to contend with challenges that would arise from the choices and compromises needed to give the Vision joint ownership, as the property of all parties.

Thus, a conceptually meaningful, exciting, desirable, and viable must also be sustainable. In addition to being sustainable, it must also offer a value proposition that easily conduces to a consensus. In this regard, a South East vision and revival is possible today under the SEDC, because it presents the best chance of eliminating, or at least minimizing, the dominant “Ike Out Onye” philosophy of each state doing everything by itself, and for itself in the South East.

This new drive will require each of the five South East States to focus on their areas of comparative advantage. Such an approach will enable them create and lock into a regional template with a modern logistics system. That means networked specialization, and Economies of Scale, rather than unintelligent competition.

Concerning where the South East is today, where it ought to be and what is holding it back, one obvious demand is a change of mindset.

It calls for what I sometimes call the tripod of the Physical, Economic and Axiomatic spaces as the pillars to be fortified for a new regional outlook. This means working towards seeing, and making, the region an integrated and well-coordinated production, distribution, movement and governance system.

One way of doing this is to synchronize the SEDC’s well-articulated innovation, entrepreneurship and investment-focused programmer with a detailed values reorientation initiative and values consultative programmes. These should begin in our schools and pervade the community and the local government system. This should involve programmes for youth/women leaders, town union presidents, council and ward, LG chairmen, religious leaders, traders’ associations

In all of this, the Commission must leverage the media in a sustainable manner, so that it can go beyond mere presence and visibility to measurable media impact and dominance.

The things holding the Region back include conspicuous deficits in leadership, social infrastructure, loss of what should be business profit to self-generated power, poor overall transportation logistics and much more. There is also the problem of weak regional coordination and limited bargaining power at the center. Add the foregoing to low trust in the region’s political leadership, armed groups, sit-at-home disruptions, and heavy-handed local Task and tax Forces and you have the perfect recipe for a people in thrall.

There is also severe brain drain, as professionals increasingly relocate to Lagos, Abuja, or abroad. Meanwhile, the region could have since become the industrial hub for West and Central Africa, with export-driven clusters in light manufacturing, automotive parts franchising, pharmaceuticals, agro-allied processing, technology innovation and creative industries. Diaspora capital should also, by now, be driving investment, not just remittances that are mostly for domestic upkeep of family members.

Workings together, the Sout East should have become a Model of Regional Cooperation, with shared infrastructure in power generation, rail, and logistics corridors. It is even possible to contemplate a coordinated tax, investment, and industrial policies framework across the region.

Things are the way that are in the region today because it is dominated by a fragmented leadership orientation, wherein each governor is an emperor and also the custodian of ultimate wisdom. Nothing makes this more apparent than the absence of a shared long-term regional agenda. That is why, today, political leaders focus more on election cycles and personal popularity than sustainable development projects and projections.

The Politics of Atomization without, and largely reactive and emotional responses to emerging issues, is another factor. That is what has partly left the region with very weak negotiating capacity at the federal level; with policy think tanks that offer more of tanks for noisy idealists than any serious thinking.

In the end, the overall regional profile is characterized by the challenge of reliable data for long term planning. Yet, its economic profile exhibits strong entrepreneurial strength, with SMEs, commerce, trading networks, manufacturing clusters. Its human capital profile shows high literacy levels and large professional demographics.

Unfortunately, all that creativity and energy are displayed and often dissipated in the largely informal, under-capitalized, and infrastructure-poor economy. The large number of unscaled SMEs that are not transitioning into large, competitive firms is a source for concern.

Which takes us back to want I merely hinted at, when I spoke of the third leg of the tripod for change, namely, the axiomatic pillar. The type of people we are rests on the type of values we live by.

It is because the human being is the primary resource of any nation that natural endowments, like Liquid and solid minerals, forest reserves and game cannot develop a nation on their own. You need human beings with knowledge, discipline and the right values for development to take place. But ideas are not enough. They must be the right ideas. Give these ideas to good and effective leadership, and modern execution templates, and you have far-reaching transformations before you. v are needed.

The essential point being made here is that there is a fundamental difference between human resources and natural resources. The former is an agent and the latter is a tool that can be transformed by the former. Once you combine knowledge, vision, values and strategy with group discipline, development takes place.

Look at Venezuela with the greatest oil deposit on earth. Then look at Japanese, which does not have any other resource except its human capital. Japan exports only one product, namely “Knowledge”; which manifests as cars, electronic equipment and much more.

That is perhaps why we may be constrained to draw the conclusion that the South East’s biggest constraint may not just be marginalization. When you look at the absence of coordinated internal economic, political, and institutional power and loyalty, you begin to see many things that are not so readily visible on the surface.

The region needs to organize its capital, protect stability, think generational succession and negotiate at the national level from the angle of partnership and strength, rather than the three Gs of Grumbling, Grievance and Grandstanding.

As the SEDC is now, hopefully, working towards doing the right things for the South East, by knocking out a template for a realistic way forward, the real question for Ndigbo, going forward, may not be “What is Nigeria doing to, and for, the South-East?”, but “How does the South-East organize itself to be respected, respectable and indispensable to Nigeria—and Africa?”

The other questions are: “When will the South East wake up to the fact that its undue emphasis on distributive trade that is hopelessly dependent on an operating/policy environment they are not in control of verges on pure lunacy?”. Plus, this: “Why there so much capital misallocation in the South East, with much wealth shut away in pointless real estate of big village houses”?

It is important that the SEDC’’s drive for the better management of the many small scalable, but unscaled, ventures is supported and pursued. Ditto for the emergence of large indigenous institutions, like banks, manufacturing giants, funds, etc.?

Truth is: The South-East cannot triumph by shouting louder, but by becoming more strategic. It needs a regional Political Coordination Template that is capable of having one position and one negotiating voice on key national issues. It must minimize the now-well-known public quarrels, so that this is not also always an indication of inner divisions. The call is for the region to play Leverage Politics, and move from political “representations”, to “Portfolio Control” in politics;

SEDC is in a position to drive a new narrative that henceforth reframe security awareness as action in aid of Regional Economic Survival, by showing that no investor comes where he suspects social instability. The South-East will not rise by waiting for fairness, WhatsApp activism, or by online noise making. It should simply organize capital, coordinate, strengthen, thinking generationally and long term.

The Commission must watch out for those it can call its the Driving Forces for change, the Restraining Forces trying to undermine it, and also the Direction Changing Forces which try to achieve their own personal purposes on the pretext of being in synch with the Commission.

Finally, let the SEDC not be remiss in taking up the following three Next Steps stipulated, and arising from its Stakeholder Forum, namely: (1) Consolidate and synthesize inputs from the Forum, to informed an initial SEV 2050 Initial Framework; (2) Develop the First Integrated framework of the SEV 2050 framework; and (3) Confirm the commitment and Roles from relevant institutions and stakeholders.

A lot will depend on the SEDC, going forward.

By Christian ABURIME

Anambra State Governor, Prof Chukwuma Charles Soludo has ordered the immediate shut down of the Onitsha Main Market for one week, following defiance of the market leadership to open, against government directive.

Governor Soludo’s order for a one-week shutdown of the sprawling market is more than an administrative penalty. It is the latest, and perhaps most drastic, salvo in a protracted war over who controls time and economic life in Southeast Nigeria on mondays. The enemy is the long-standing, fear-enforced Monday sit-at-home order, a ghostly mandate from non-state actors that has strangled businesses and normalized weekly monday sit-at-home for years.

The Governor’s move is a direct response to what the government sees as baffling defiance. Despite repeated assurances of enhanced security and appeals to reclaim public spaces, many traders at the iconic market again chose to keep their stalls locked. Their absence was a quiet rebellion, but one that spoke volumes about the lingering climate of apprehension.

“The government cannot stand by while a few individuals willfully undermine public safety and disregard official directives meant to restore normalcy, this is plain economic sabotage. We are not going to allow this”, Governor Soludo stated, framing the closure as a protective measure for the “law-abiding citizen.” But his subsequent warning carried the weight of an escalating ultimatum: if the market does not reopen for business after this one-week shutdown, it will be sealed for a month. “And so on and so forth,” he added, drawing a line in the sand.

“You either decide that you are going to trade here or you go elsewhere. I am very serious about this”, the Governor insisted.

The scene at the market was one of tense enforcement. A joint task force of police, army, and other security personnel moved swiftly to secure the perimeter, turning away the few hopefuls who approached.

For the Soludo administration, the solution is unwavering enforcement to break a psychological barrier. The strategy is clear: make the cost of compliance with the illegal sit-at-home order higher than the fear that drives it. By targeting the economic heart of the region, the government aims to trigger a collective shift in behavior, betting that the traders’ desire to trade will ultimately outweigh their fear.

As the gates remain locked this week, the standoff in Onitsha encapsulates the broader struggle in the Southeast. It is a fight over normalcy, authority, and the fragile psyche of a populace caught between enforced directives and imposed orders. When the gates are scheduled to reopen next Monday, all eyes will be on the traders. Will they return to their stalls, emboldened by the state’s show of force? Or will the silent, empty aisles deliver a different verdict?

The answer will determine not just the fate of a market, but the rhythm of life in Anambra for Mondays to come.

When President Bola Tinubu announced the Democracy Day honours list in 2025, many Nigerians, myself included, assumed that evident omissions would be addressed in subsequent rounds of national recognition. That expectation now appears difficult to sustain. The recent conferment of the Grand Commander of the Order of the Niger (GCON) on a businessman whose career included close association with the Abacha era – however complex or commercially distinguished his later record – sits uneasily beside the continued silence surrounding many Nigerians who directly confronted military rule, often at the cost of detention, exile, or death.

I raise this issue as an eyewitness to the struggle and a participant in its most perilous years. I served as Coordinator of the Youth Wing of the Eastern Mandate Union (EMU). I was present at EMU’s inaugural meeting at the Enugu residence of Arthur Nwankwo, with Patrick Dele Cole and Chuba Okadigbo as the intellectual arrowheads. It was at that meeting that Nwankwo was proposed and accepted as Chancellor of EMU. Liyel Imoke and Greg Mbadiwe are living witnesses to those early days.

EMU, like NADECO, emerged in early 1994 to demand the de-annulment of June 12 and the restoration of a stolen mandate. Like NADECO, EMU issued an ultimatum to the Abacha regime. Only EMU was met with a 24-hour deadline to recant or face the full weight of the law. We did not. The consequences were swift. EMU leaders, Arthur Nwankwo and Udenta O. Udenta, were arrested and detained for over a week. Others, Chuba Okadigbo, Patrick Dele Cole, Polycarp Nwite, and the late Dubem Onyia, EMU’s tireless Secretary, were hunted for months and forced underground.

Between 1994 and 1998, Nwankwo and Udenta endured more than five arrests and detentions. EMU leaders and younger stalwarts paid in lost livelihoods, truncated careers, interrupted education, physical distress and mental anguish. I nearly missed graduation in 1995 if not for the benevolence of the late Mrs Adichie, then Registrar of the University of Nigeria.

EMU’s emergence nationalised the June 12 struggle. It lifted the cause beyond regional or ethnic lines and anchored it as a Nigerian democratic imperative. That transformation culminated in 1997, when the entire AFENIFERE leadership travelled by night bus to the EMU chancery in Enugu.

Led by Abraham Adesanya, the delegation included Bola Ige, Ayo Adebanjo, Solanke Onosanya, Olaniwun Ajayi, Kofo Akerele-Bucknor, Ayoka Lawani, Femi Okorunmu and others. I witnessed their arrival and the deliberations that followed. That Enugu meeting rebirthed NADECO as a truly national front. Leadership was recomposed: Anthony Enahoro as overall leader (including the Diaspora); Abraham Adesanya as Chairman (Nigeria); Arthur Nwankwo as Deputy Chairman (Nigeria); and Dan Suleman as Vice Chairman. EMU leaders – Udenta Udenta, Francis Ellah, Chike Obi and others – formed the backbone of the National Executive.

Prof Udenta, in particular, represented EMU in NADECO’s engagements with the international community and major embassies, holding forth when colleagues were detained and serving as the most visible face of the resistance between 1996 and 1998. He would later emerge as the National Secretary of the Alliance for Democracy.

It was also through EMU, partnering with NADECO, that the Commonwealth Ministerial Action Group (CMAG) submission for the Edinburgh meeting in 1997 was authored, tightening international pressure on the junta. By then, the democratic struggle rested on a triumvirate: AFENIFERE in the South-West, EMU in the East, and NEPU-PRP in the North. The day Balarabe Musa and Prof Bala Usman visited the EMU Chancery in Enugu, I was part of the reception team.

My own engagement was not abstract. In 1993, I placed a newspaper advert—funded by my father—urging Nigerian students to vote for M.K.O. Abiola. That led to my first meeting with Abiola in Lagos, facilitated by Stanley Egbochukwu. He introduced me to Kudirat Abiola and his aide, Fred Eno, and asked me to help align student leadership with the mandate struggle.

I was part of a small team that met regularly at Dr Edwin Madunagu’s office at Rutam House to push for the de-annulment of the June 12 result. My article, Pondering Over These Times, rebutting Peter Enahoro’s famous article A Time to Ponder, appeared in the final edition of The Concord before it was shut down by the junta.

After the Epetedo Declaration, I served as liaison between Kudirat Abiola and Arthur Nwankwo. Shortly after one of my visits, Fred Eno was arrested and disappeared; months later, I traced him to Enugu prison, bringing relief amid fears he had been killed. Those were the stakes.

EMU’s voice also drew attention at the highest levels. In 1995, Olusegun Obasanjo led his National Unity Organisation to parley with EMU; he was soon arrested and detained. EMU was among the most vocal platforms demanding the release of Obasanjo and Shehu Musa Yar’Adua—records attest to this.

In 1998, as Abacha’s grip weakened, Arthur Nwankwo and Udenta Udenta were detained again; plans were underway to move them to Abuja when Abacha died, abruptly ending that chapter.

These are not claims; they are facts – documented, witnessed, and verifiable. This is why the silence on EMU and the continued absence of names like Arthur Nwankwo, Udenta Udenta, Chike Obi, and others from Nigeria’s highest honours matter.

It is time to complete the record. Nigeria should recognise Arthur Nwankwo and Udenta O. Udenta; Patrick Dele Cole and Chuba Okadigbo; and, posthumously, Dubem Onyia, Polycarp Nwite, Balarabe Musa, Prof Bala Usman, and others who gave NADECO a national character and paid dearly for it.

Democracies endure by memory. Selective remembrance weakens the republic; full recognition strengthens it.

Osita Chidoka
21 January 2026

By Benjamin Okorie Ajah, PhD

 

My personal experiences, both within and outside the country, compel me to write this post. Before delving into the meat of my post, I would love to state that I have close and wonderful friends across different ethnic `groups in Nigeria, starting from the Yoruba to the Hausa, from the Tiv to the Jukum, the Fulani to the Ijaw, etc. Instructively, countless people from other ethnic groups have played immeasurable roles in defending the Igbo.

 

I never knew how deep the revisionists have gone in demarketing and projecting the Igbo as the only problem of Nigeria. In fact, it appears to be a grievous crime to be an Igbo. I had little experience of the extent the revisionists have gone in projecting the Igbo as the only problem of the country when one of my schoolmates in law school was telling me how he hates the Igbo, thinking that I’m an Ijaw man. When I asked him whether he had lived among the Igbo or transacted with them, he said no. I then told him that it is funny to hate people he never transacted nor lived with and reminded him that I’m Igbo and not Ijaw, as he had believed. He became uncomfortable and gradually petered out of our relationship.

 

Unfortunately, I encountered deeper collateral damage the revisionists want to cause the Igbo on the course of traversing other universities outside Nigeria. It was in Kampala International University in Uganda that someone who claimed to be educated was besmirching the Igbo in my presence without minding that I’m Igbo. He specifically accused the Igbo of being the only tribe in Nigeria who are not only tribalistic and domineering but also the only tribe doing drug and human trafficking and internet fraud. He cited the case of how Peter Obi won the majority of his votes from states with a significant Igbo presence. When I reminded him that the Igbo voted massively for Obasanjo in 1999 and 2003. They repeated the same by voting massively for Yar’Adua in 2007 and Goodluck Jonathan in 2011 and 2015, respectively. I then asked him, how come it became tribalistic for the Igbo to vote for a candidate who they believe was the best? I reminded him that even the principle of zoning and justice demands that the president should come from the southeast. He became uncomfortable.

 

When I attended a conference at the University of Leeds, UK, an Afrikaner asked me why the Igbo are practising cannibalism in Nigeria. I probed him to find out how he got his information; it happened that a Nigerian history professor told him negative things about the Igbo. I took time to re-educate and enlighten him about the situation of the country and how the political class are using divisional tendencies to strengthen their hold onto power.

 

In the University of Pretoria and the University of South Africa—all in South Africa—some South African scholars were made to think that it is only the Igbo who are committing crimes within and outside Nigeria. They had been told that the Igbo are the ones committing crimes in their country. I had to re-educate them and bring to their attention that criminality has no ethnic colouration. I equally cited known cases of Nigerians arrested in South Africa for drug and other crimes that are not Igbo.

 

When I visited the National University of Lesotho, I discovered that Basotho people were told similar negative stories about the Igbo like they did in South Africa, I had to equally reeducate them and cited known cases of Nigerians who committed crimes in their country that are not Igbo.

 

The same trend reared its ugly head when I visited Côte d’Ivoire.

 

Having said that, the revisionists are bringing the same energy they are using outside Nigeria to the fore to put the national political desire of the Igbo to the guillotine, of which I know they won’t succeed. Just recently, they brought about the history of the civil war on January 15, 2026, stating that only the Igbo military officers assassinated northern and southwestern political leaders and intentionally ignoring to state that the coupists comprised people from the Igbo, the Yoruba, and the North. Even a Hausa man was among the coupists. They intentionally refused to state the pogrom and genocide committed against the Igbo and other ethnic groups that share similar identities with the Igbo as a result of such misclassification.

 

Now, the government revisionists want other Nigerians to believe that the Igbo are the only ethnic group demarketing Nigeria and that some random IPOB apologists are behind the classification of the Igbo by the US as a country of particular concern. They are doing that but intentionally ignore stating that an Igbo woman, Oge Onubogu, was in the US Congress re-educating the US congressmen about the need not to clothe security issues in Nigeria with religious colouration. They intentionally forget to state that the actions and inactions of the political class are what have compounded our security situation.

 

The same revisionists are working hard to tribalise Peter Obi’s candidature, aided by some Igbo politicians who want to get political favour or appointment from the federal government. I’m pretty sure that if Soludo or Umahi, who has been working hard to belong and please the centre, decides to contest for president of Nigeria today, his candidature will be tribalised because it is the approach crafted to keep the Igbo away from becoming the president of Nigeria. They have started claiming that the Igbo cannot be contesting for president while agitating for independence from Nigeria but intentionally refused to mention that other sections of Nigeria are equally agitating for independence. The Oduduwa Republic is being agitated for in the southwest. The middle belt are equally agitating, etc.

 

What can the Igbo do?

 

It’s time to stop being aloof with what is happening in our political system. Yes, the federal government has not been fair to us and is engineering the revisionists, but we need to sustain a high tempo in countering them with facts devoid of insults and abuses. We equally need to pay attention to our own local political leaders. We need leaders who can offer qualitative leadership and technical know-how to reposition the east to be at the nerve of attracting urgently needed investors. For the political class and their foot soldiers, they can play their politics without demarketing their people in attempt to belong. The patterns of politics played by Mr Osita Chidoka and Mr Peter Mbah, Governor of Enugu State, are examples of how to play national politics without endangering the people you are meant to be representing.

-By Abdul Mahmud 

We are here at last in the decisive year before the 2027 General election; and under a political sky shaped by cooptation, consolidation, realignment and fatigue. The governing order described in the first part of this essay has narrowed the arena of contest and redrawn the boundaries of participation.

Power has been personalised through coordination at the apex of presidential power, while democratic life has thinned across the political spectrum. Against this backdrop, the central question concerns the prospect of change in a system where opposition appears weak, fragmented, and uncertain of purpose. The inquiry matters because politics without credible opposition drifts toward stagnation, and democracy without contest loses its animating force.

The weakness of opposition in contemporary Nigeria does not arise from absence alone. Parties exist. Leaders speak. Platforms circulate. What has faded concerns coherence, imagination, and capacity to mobilise belief. Opposition formations struggle to present themselves as alternative governments rather than displaced elites. Electoral defeat has translated into strategic confusion. Litigation has substituted for organising. Negotiation has replaced confrontation. The result resembles a political field populated by actors who recognise the dominance of the ruling order and seek accommodation within it.

This condition reflects the success of the early Tinubuist regime in redefining politics as alignment. The governing logic rewards proximity and punishes distance. Access to resources, protection, and relevance depends upon acceptance of the prevailing arrangement. Opposition figures face inducements to cross over, remain silent, or fragment their own bases. Party switching acquires normality. Ideological commitment dissolves into tactical survival. Politics loses its moral edge. And within such a landscape, prospects for change appear limited. The absence of a unified opposition weakens the capacity to challenge power electorally. Fragmentation disperses energy. Public cynicism deepens as citizens perceive politics as closed circuit. Many retreat into private life, informal economies, or migration. Democratic participation contracts further, reinforcing the governing logic that thrives on disengagement.

Political history rarely moves in straight lines. Systems that prioritise stability over inclusion accumulate pressures beneath the surface. The early Tinubuist regime has secured coherence through elite consensus, though this consensus carries inherent limits. A governing order sustained through coordination rather than consent encounters stress when coordination fails or consent becomes necessary. The very mechanisms that weaken opposition also generate contradictions that destabilise authority over time. One such contradiction emerges within elite bargaining itself. The expansion of patronage networks strains finite resources. As more actors demand inclusion, distribution becomes contentious. Loyalty purchased through access requires constant renewal. Exclusion breeds resentment among former allies. Factional competition intensifies within the ruling coalition. Unity achieved through accommodation proves fragile when accommodation reaches saturation. Power consolidates by absorbing rivals, then weakens by carrying their ambitions. Another contradiction resides in the language of reform. Economic policies framed as necessity impose social cost that erodes legitimacy. The moral vocabulary of sacrifice wears thin amid widening inequality and visible privilege. Citizens endure hardship without corresponding voice. Over time, endurance transforms into anger or withdrawal. Governance grounded in inevitability confronts limits when inevitability loses credibility. Economic pain acquires political meaning despite efforts to depoliticise it.

Institutional constraint presents further tension. Courts, legislatures, and regulatory bodies adjust to executive priorities, though such adjustment undermines their authority. As institutions lose autonomy, they lose capacity to absorb conflict. Disputes that once found resolution within formal channels spill into informal arenas. Legitimacy drains from procedures perceived as scripted. Law retains form while losing moral force. This erosion weakens the very stability the system seeks to preserve. Media management also carries contradiction. Selective tolerance creates uncertainty rather than silence. Critical voices adapt, migrate, and reappear through alternative platforms. Suppression fragments the public sphere without eliminating dissent. Information circulates through informal networks beyond regulatory reach. Attempts at narrative control encounter diminishing returns as trust declines. Control becomes labour intensive and brittle.

The weakness of opposition thus operates as both symptom and accelerant of systemic tension. Absence of organised challenge removes pressure for responsiveness. Governance drifts toward insularity. Decision making narrows. Blind spots expand. The ruling order begins to mistake silence for consent and stability for legitimacy. In such conditions, disruption often arrives from unexpected quarters rather than formal opposition structures. Civil society offers one such site. Though constrained, social movements adapt through issue based mobilisation. Labour, professional associations, faith communities, and local networks articulate grievances that escape party structures. Their demands concern survival, dignity, and fairness rather than ideology. These movements resist easy cooptation. Their legitimacy derives from lived experience rather than electoral calculation.

Power struggles to absorb them without conceding substance.

Generational dynamics introduce further uncertainty. Younger Nigerians encounter a political order that offers little promise of inclusion. Their relationship to the state remains transactional at best. Digital spaces provide alternative arenas for expression and organisation. Political identity forms outside traditional party structures. When mobilisation occurs, it defies established channels. Authority confronts actors uninterested in elite negotiation. Regional and communal tensions also complicate consolidation. Nigeria’s diversity resists uniform management. Grievances rooted in marginalisation, security, and resource distribution persist beneath the surface of elite consensus. Centralised control struggles to accommodate local realities. When accommodation fails, dissent acquires territorial expression. Stability achieved at the centre confronts volatility at the margins.

These pressures converge within the Tinubu’s Presidency attempt to construct a pan-hegemonic order. The project seeks to draw all significant political forces into a single architecture of power. Opposition becomes junior partner. Dissent becomes noise. Politics becomes administration. This ambition resembles suzerainty, a system of overlordship that tolerates autonomy only within limits defined by the centre. Such arrangements promise order through inclusion, though they contain seeds of collapse. Suzerainty demands constant management of loyalty. It relies on hierarchy without formal equality. Subordinate actors accept dominance in exchange for protection or access. Over time, the imbalance generates tension. Subordinates seek greater autonomy. The centre resists. Negotiation hardens into contest. The system’s stability depends upon continuous expansion or redistribution, both of which encounter limits. In Nigeria’s case, the attempt to fold opposition into a pan-Tinubu order produces contradictions at multiple levels. Political actors absorbed into the ruling coalition carry distinct ambitions and constituencies. Their presence dilutes coherence. Conflicts internalise rather than disappear. The line between ruling party and opposition blurs, weakening discipline. Authority fragments from within.

Furthermore, forced consensus undermines accountability. Without credible opposition, policy failure lacks corrective mechanism. Mistakes compound. Governance loses feedback. Public frustration accumulates without outlet. When pressure releases, it does so abruptly and unpredictably. History records numerous regimes that mistook absorption for stability and silence for assent.

The prospect of change in 2027 therefore does not hinge solely on the strength of formal opposition. It rests upon contradictions embedded within the governing order. These contradictions emerge from the tension between consolidation and inclusion, control and legitimacy, coordination and consent. The Tinubu’s Presidency has privileged the former in each pairing. Over time, the latter asserts its claim. Change may arrive through fracture rather than replacement. Elite alliances may splinter. Institutional actors may reclaim autonomy. Social movements may force recalibration. Economic realities may compel political adjustment. None of these paths guarantee democratic renewal. They do, however, disrupt permanence. The task for those concerned with democracy lies not in romanticising opposition weakness, but in recognising the limits of hegemonic control. Politics suppressed returns in altered form. Democracy hollowed seeks expression beyond formal channels. Power consolidated through suzerainty encounters resistance through contradiction.

The race toward 2027 is now unmistakably underway, and the architecture of power erected in the early Tinubuist phase already circumscribes the realm of political possibility. The attenuation of opposition narrows the immediate field of contest, but it also produces a more dangerous compression of tension within the ruling order itself. In the absence of credible external challenge, conflict is displaced inward. What appears, on the surface, as dominance thus conceals a growing fragility. Efforts to impose a pan-Tinubu hegemonic alignment stretch the system beyond its elastic limits, as the ambition to absorb all forces into a single political orbit generates instability through overreach rather than coherence. At the core of this moment lies a set of contradictions that the Tinubuist project cannot indefinitely evade. A governing order premised on elite coordination and transactional discipline confronts a society increasingly defined by material deprivation, social exclusion, and unmet expectations. Politics treated as administrative management collides with demands that are moral, distributive, and existential, demands that cannot be resolved through calibration alone. Suzerainty endures only so long as consent is continuously renewed and rewards can be credibly dispensed. When subordinates hesitate, defect, or withdraw acquiescence, or when the centre’s capacity to allocate patronage and protection falters, the carefully managed order begins to fracture from within. Power secured without renewal discovers its limits not at the margins, but at the very heart of its own design.

The effort to integrate opposition into a pan-Tinubu order is riddled with inherent contradictions. Efforts to co-opt, manage, and fragment dissent both consolidate power and generate tension. Alliances built on transactional loyalty are fragile, competing interests within the ruling coalition occasionally clash, and the pursuit of centralised control can produce uneven implementation across regions and institutions. These contradictions, if harnessed, contain the potential to weaken the Tinubu project from within. In theory, they reopen space for contestation and expose the limits of authority. In practice, however, the current opposition lacks the capacity to exploit these vulnerabilities. Neither Afiku nor Obi commands the organisational depths to transform these fault lines into a credible challenge for power. Their parties are fragmented, their coalitions brittle, and their ability to mobilise sustained mass support is limited. Meanwhile, the mechanisms of control like patronage, elite coordination, administrative alignment, and resource distribution continue to reinforce the presidency’s resilience. The contradictions that might, over time, undermine the system remain largely latent, their destabilising potentials unrealised, precisely because the opposition cannot translate structural weaknesses into actionable contest. The critical implication is that Tinubu’s project is not inherently unassailable. Its endurance depends on the careful management of these contradictions. Over time, misalignment within alliances, competing ambitions, and the tensions between inclusion and control could erode the foundations of dominance. The presidency’s strength lies not in immunity from these pressures, but in the current incapacity of rivals to convert them into effective resistance. The pan-Tinubu order, then, carries within it the seeds of its own transformation that are fragile, contingent, and ultimately dependent on the interplay between internal contradictions and the emergence of capable challengers.

Happy New Year, folks.