The Pacesetter Frontier Magazine

Category: Opinion

  • A Ruling Class That Eats Itself

    A Ruling Class That Eats Itself

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Contemporary Nigeria feels like a country pulling against itself. Every day brings shock and surprises. Every night brings deeper worries. The country moves, but it moves without directions. It is not collapse, yet it is not order. It is something in between. Something that drags Nigerians down and wears them out. It resembles a place that has lost itself and the centre that no longer holds. A place where authority exists only in name. A place where power speaks loudly but acts weakly. Many Nigerians now describe the country in images borrowed from history. One of those images is China during its Warlord Era. It is not a perfect comparison. It is not even a comfortable one. But it is a useful frame for understanding the tragic drift of a country that cannot govern itself with clarity.

    China of the early twentieth century lived under fractured authority. Regional strongmen carved out fiefdoms. Armies answered to personal loyalty rather than the nation. Rulers acted like emperors. But they were actually terrors. Chinese struggled to stay alive between the shifting lines of conflict. Hope became a fragile currency. Trust disappeared. Nigeria today is not China of 1916. Still, it mirrors some of the same anxieties, the same sense of mercenary leadership, the same feeling that ruling elites no longer serve the people, the same mood of desperation among a population forced to improvise its survival; and the same suspicion that the state has become a shell that echoes emptiness, but never protects. Everywhere you look, you see a ruling class that feeds on the very system it was meant to sustain. It is a ruling class that eats itself. And in doing so, it consumes the country.

    Across Nigeria, the sense of safety has thinned to a whisper. Entire regions drift into insecurity. Armed groups take advantage of the vacuum. Communities mourn losses that have become too frequent to shock. The government responds with promises, yet the reality remains unchanged. Nigerians are stampeded with announcements, the type Fela once famously sang about as “government magic”, and endless condemnations. They hear everything except real solutions. Nigerians die on highways. They die on their farms. They die in their homes. They die while waiting for leaders who refuse to lead. It is a tragedy that repeats itself so often that it feels like part of the national routine. In China’s Warlord Era, leaders fought for territory. Control was the only ideology. The state became a broken vessel. Yet, something unexpected happened. Even in the midst of chaos, the Chinese clung to the idea of a future China. They nurtured the dream of a unified republic. They preserved their cultural memory. They produced thinkers, writers, and reformers who refused to surrender to the disorder around them. And when the warlords finally exhausted themselves, the country began the slow process of rebuilding. It was messy. It was violent. It was painful. But the idea of China survived.

    The idea of China survived because its deepest institutions outlived the warlords who tried to overthrow them. Local communities kept their traditions intact. Teachers educated children in classical texts. Merchants maintained networks that tied distant regions together. Reformers in cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou carried forward debates about national renewal. Newspapers, student groups, and emerging political parties kept alive a vision of a united republic, even when the country itself was fractured. These threads held society together when the state could not. The idea also survived because the Chinese never abandoned the belief that their destiny was collective. They experienced warlordism as a temporary betrayal of the national project, not its end. They protested fragmentation. They wrote against it. They fought against it. They imagined a future in which China would be whole again. This imagination created pressure that weakened the warlords’ grips, and when military exhaustion set in, the intellectual and cultural groundwork for rebuilding was ready. Out of that groundwork emerged the next phase of the Chinese state. As it was then, and as it had always been, the Chinese nation-state building was a fierce struggle for grounding visions and competing ideas, not a flippant appeal to sentiment or convenience. It required depth, conviction, and the hard labour of shaping a shared future rather than the easy pursuit of applause for the warlords.

    Nigeria is inching close to the point where it must reclaim itself from its own violent fragments. The danger of fragmentation continues to grow. The ruling elites continue to fight among themselves. They continue to chase influence and access while the country burns. They chase the next election cycle. They chase everything except the wellbeing of Nigerians. They do not confront the insecurity that terrorises ordinary Nigerians. They do not confront the poverty that reduces life to a miserable hustle. They do not confront the corruption that empties public coffers. They do not confront the decay of institutions that once held the country together. What they confront instead is each other: “Someone once said you are supposed be kept away in the zoo. Sincerely that’s where you belong”. And in that confrontation, they devastate the very system they claim to defend. The judiciary is hijacked. The legislature is compromised. The executive is swollen with power but thin on capacity. Agencies clash. Serving governors accuse past governors. They deflect; and when they are not deflecting on the real issues, they are busy abusing fellow Nigeria: “Go and die”. The federal state stumbles along as the subnational states burn. This is how a country eats itself. Not through dramatic implosion. But through constant erosion.

    China’s Warlord Era ended through exhaustion. Nigeria cannot afford such an ending. The cost in lives would be unbearable. The social damage would last generations. The economic ruin would push millions into irreversible poverty. Though the world is different now, populations are larger, weapons are deadlier, and the interdependence of communities is deeper, a Nigerian collapse would be disastrous. It would be a continental earthquake. So the question is simple. When will our ruling elite realise that it has consumed too much of the country’s vitality? When does it understand that its survival depends on the survival of the country? When does it learn that power cannot be sustained on the ruins of public trust? These lessons appear obvious. Yet they seem to escape those who hold office. A country cannot run on improvisation. It cannot survive on announcements. It cannot endure on propaganda. It needs a moral centre. It needs a political vision. It needs leaders who understand that governance is not performance. Governance is responsibility. It is a duty. It is courage. It is the ability to stand between citizens and danger. And it is the humility to know when the state is crumbling and must be rebuilt.

    China recovered because its people refused to let the idea of China die. Nigeria stands at a similar crossroads. Nigerians still believe in the idea of Nigeria. They show it every day. They show it in their stubborn resilience. They show it in their refusal to give up. They show it in their search for work, for safety, for dignity. They show it in their prayers. They show it in their grief. They show it even when the state ignores them. But belief is not infinite. Resilience is not eternal. Hope is not immortal. There comes a time when citizens look at their leaders and see nothing but hunger for power. There comes a time when they recognise that the ruling class feeds on the country like a parasite. There comes a time when they see that those who govern have no interest in building a future. At that point when the ruling class begins to devour itself, the people begin to chart a course of their own.

    If Nigeria is to avoid that fate, its ruling class must act now to save the country and itself. It must restore security. It must strengthen its institutions. It must clean its politics. It must rebuild public trust. These are not lofty ideals. They are basic responsibilities. They are the foundation of every functioning state. Without them, the country slips deeper into the logic of the Warlord Era. Disarray. Fragmentation. Fear. The tragedy of Nigeria is not that it lacks resources. It is not that it lacks ambition. It is that it lacks leaders who understand the moral weight of stewardship. Leadership is not enjoyment. Leadership is a burden. Leadership is sacrifice. Leadership is the understanding that every decision shapes the lives of millions. China’s past is a warning. Nigeria’s present is a plea. The ruling class can still step backwards from the path of self-destruction. It can still choose purpose over plunder. It can still rebuild the fragile trust that binds the country together. But it must act. It must reform. It must confront the insecurity, the corruption, the disorder, and the decay. A ruling class that eats itself leaves nothing behind. Nigeria deserves better. Nigeria deserves leaders who build. Nigeria deserves a state that protects. Nigeria deserves a future that is not swallowed by the failures of today.

  • Nigeria’s Insecurity and Leadership: The Growing Crisis of Confidence – By Dr. John Egbo

    Nigeria’s Insecurity and Leadership: The Growing Crisis of Confidence – By Dr. John Egbo

    For millions of Nigerians, the fear of being kidnapped on the road, at home, or even in school has become a grim part of daily existence. From the outskirts of Abuja to rural communities in Kaduna, Kwara, Niger, Katsina, Plateau, Benue, Rivers, and Zamfara, the wave of abductions continues to rise, eroding public confidence and raising urgent questions about the priorities of the country’s political leadership.

    Despite repeated promises from successive administrations, Nigerians widely believe that national security is still treated with alarming levity by those at the highest levels of government. From the Presidency to the National Assembly and the state governors, there is a growing public perception that the nation’s leaders are more focused on protecting themselves and their families, with troops of police officers, army personnel and DSS than ensuring the safety of the people they are supposed to serve.

    KIDNAPPINGS: A NATION UNDER SIEGE

    Kidnapping for ransom has evolved into a multi-billion-naira criminal industry. Major highways such as Abuja–Kaduna, Enugu–Abuja, Benin–Lagos, and Birnin Gwari–Funtua have witnessed repeated attacks. Communities in the Middle Belt and North-West live under a constant shadow of terrorists called bandits, militants and herdsmen while southern states once considered safe such as Edo, Delta, Imo, and Anambra, now report near-daily abductions.

    In early 2025 alone, several communities recorded mass kidnappings, including farmers, schoolchildren, church members, and even traditional rulers. For many Nigerians, these incidents underscore what they see as a failure of political will of Nigeria’s style of leadership. They travel overseas for medical treatment but will not hire foreign trained officers to help with their sick security condition.

    A trader in Suleja, who narrowly survived an attack, told our reporter: “We are left to protect ourselves. The leaders are surrounded by dozens of security men, but ordinary people are on their own. It seems we are not part of the security equation.”

    SECURITY FOR THE POWERFUL, INSECURITY FOR THE PEOPLE

    Analysts argue that a major source of public resentment is the disproportionate deployment of security personnel political leadership. Thousands of police officers are attached to politicians, government officials, business moguls, and their families, while rural communities and urban neighborhoods struggle with inadequate policing.

    A retired police superintendent, who requested anonymity, described the situation bluntly:

    “We lack manpower not because officers don’t exist, but because many of them are guarding VIPs. If you withdraw and equip half of those officers and send them back to communities, you will see an immediate improvement in national security.”

    Despite generous annual allocations running into trillions of naira for defense and monthly Security Votes to Governors, internal security, frontline officers often lack basic equipment such as bulletproof vests, patrol vehicles, communication gadgets, and sometimes even fuel. Many work long hours under hazardous conditions with limited insurance or welfare support.

    This mismatch between resources and results has fuelled widespread frustration among service men in uniform.

    POLITICAL INTERFERENCE AND REACTIVE MEASURES

    Critics say part of the problem lies in the politicization of security agencies. Postings, promotions, and procurement decisions have sometimes been influenced by political considerations rather than merit, weakening professionalism within the security sector.

    Moreover, security responses have often been reactive rather than proactive. Government interventions typically occur after tragic incidents as in mass abductions in Kebby school where there was an intelligence before the attack took place and Niger students incidents, attacks on villages, or high-profile kidnappings—rather than through coordinated preventive strategies.

    A security researcher at the University of Ibadan, Dr. Tolu Adebayo, summarized the problem: “We cannot continue waiting for attacks before deploying resources. Kidnapping gangs have saboteurs in the military and they are adapting faster than our institutions. Without intelligence-led policing, improved welfare, and professional autonomy, the cycle will continue unabated”

    CITIZENS LOSING PATIENCE

    For ordinary Nigerians, the consequences of insecurity are devastating. Farmers are abandoning their farmlands for fear of attack. Transporters avoid certain highways. Unity schools have been ordered closed in many states of the North while other Schools in high-risk regions operate under threat. Businesses are closing, and families are selling property to pay ransoms.

    An Enugu resident whose cousin was abducted in 2024 expressed anger at government inaction:

    “Every day we hear politicians talking about billions spent on security. But where is the impact? Bandits are still operating freely. We cannot live like this.”

    A CALL FOR GENUINE COMMITMENT

    The public is demanding a shift from rhetoric to action. Experts recommend:

    -Reducing VIP security escorts and redeploying personnel to communities

    -Ordering all National Assembly members and Ministers back to their respective towns to empower both Neighborhood Watch (Vigilantes) and Forest Guards as a first line protection for their people during the upcoming yuletide.

    -Improving welfare and insurance for police and military officers.

    -Deploying drones, surveillance systems, and intelligence tools for security personnel.

    -Creating  state policing structures as promised by the President to adopting a multi-layered policing model

    -Ensuring transparency in defence spending and procurement.

    -Sign an agreement with a foreign country to help flush out terrorists from the country and secure our porous borders.

    -Improving coordination among the armed forces, police, DSS, and local vigilantes.

    Ultimately, Nigerians want a leadership that demonstrates genuine commitment, not just speeches. A leadership that recognizes that security is not a privilege for the powerful, but a right for every citizen.

    As insecurity grows more brazen and kidnappers become more entrenched, the nation faces a stark choice: continue on the current path of reactive measures, or embrace bold reforms that restore public trust and reclaim Nigeria from the grip of fear. We all know that action speaks louder than words.

    The people have spoken loudly and the country’s leaders can no longer afford to ignore them.

    Dr. John Egbo is a Retired Deputy Sheriff from the United States of America and Security Consultant. Email: jnegbo1@gmail.com 

  • New Week, More Abductions and More Deaths

    New Week, More Abductions and More Deaths

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Another week has opened in Nigeria with blood on the ground and fear in the air. The country wakes up each morning to new tragedies. Each day closes with fresh accounts of death, kidnappings, and retreats. Nigeria is living inside a vortex of violence. Nothing breaks it. Nothing interrupts it. The state has become pusillanimous, a timid spectator.

    The abduction of more than twenty five girls from Government Girls Comprehensive Senior Secondary School, Maga, in Kebbi State, is another grim reminder of how far the security collapse has travelled. The killing of the Vice-Principal in the attacks showed the brutality of the terrorists. These were girls preparing for a future that is constantly denied them. In that region, the education of girls has long been contested by extremists and patriarchal norms. The state promised to protect these children. It failed. Again.

    Across the north, the same story unfolds. In Tsafe Local Government Area of Zamfara State, entire families were taken. Women and children disappeared into forests controlled by terrorists. Homes were emptied without resistance. Communities now live under criminal rule. Citizens whisper not to provoke those who control their roads, markets, and farmlands. The state is absent. In the north east, the shock is deeper. The reported capture and killing of General Muhammed Uba, who the Army High Command assured the country was safe within his battalion, has shaken the country. A General of the Nigerian Army. Seized. Dragged away. Made to sit on the ground by his snatchers. Killed by terrorists who move on motorcycles. A military built on decades of training and investment was breached by a band that holds no formal command structure. It is shameful. It undermines morale. It raises a painful question. Is the Nigerian military still capable of fighting?

    Everywhere Nigerians turn, the failures of the state stare back at them. The military is stretched. The police is overwhelmed. Intelligence gathering is weak. Communities report danger and no one comes. Criminals move from state to state. Terrorists set up camps. They impose taxes. They administer their own justice. The state protects no one. It barely protects itself. The government keeps promising a turning point. Instead, we watch a point that turns in on itself, spinning without direction, circling like the widening gyre of WB Yeats’s The Second Coming. The turning point never arrives. Operations are launched with loud declarations of victory. The terrorists regroup. They reorganise. Villages burn. Schools fall. Families mourn. The cycle continues.

    Our country has normalised tragedy. Nigerians now expect bad news. They wait for the next report of abductions. They wait to hear which community has fallen. Prophet Amos once asked, “When will the new moon be over, so we can sell our corn?” It was a lament about a society rotting from inside. It was an indictment of leaders who worshipped power but abandoned justice. Nigeria carries that lament today. Nigerians now ask when this cycle of death will end. They now ask when the government will act with urgency. They now ask when rulers will remember that the first duty of the state is protection. Instead of answers, Nigerians see a president who governs from behind high walls. The fortress of Aso Rock grows more secure while the rest of the country grows more vulnerable. Terrorists move freely. Terrorists spread across territories untouched by government authority. Villages have no police presence. Cities shrink into islands of guarded estates. Nigerians travel only by daylight. Even then, they travel in fear.

    Nigeria cannot continue this way. Our country cannot survive when its armed forces appear unsure of their own strengths. The military once carried the weight of national pride. It was the symbol of unity. It was the institution that projected the authority of the federal government. Today, Nigerians ask if it is still primed for battle. They ask how a General can be captured. They ask why battalions retreat. They ask why weapons fall into the hands of those who seek to destroy the republic.

    These questions are fair. They must be asked.

    The military needs honest scrutiny. This government needs accountability. Nigerians deserve truth. If the armed forces are under-resourced, Nigerians need to know. If corruption has weakened capacity, the offenders must be punished. If political interference has crippled operations, it must be exposed. The attitude of silence, denial, and deflection is no longer acceptable.

    Nigeria and Nigerians are now trapped between the rock and the hard place. Some cling to patriotism, patience, and faith in the government’s ability to defeat the terrorists, mocking any notion of foreign assistance. Others insist that the country must seek help from beyond its borders. When President Donald Trump promised that he would send troops to our country to wipe out terrorists wherever they found them, Nigerians wondered what such intervention would mean here. They now ask when he intends to send help, since their own President cannot secure the country. It is a question born out of despair. A question rooted in frustration with a state that has abandoned its duties.

    The despair is not only in the number of dead. It is in the absence of hope. A country loses part of its soul when children are stolen from classrooms. A country loses its dignity when Generals are captured. A country loses its direction when leaders stay silent or offer empty speeches. Nigeria is losing too much. The new week has already brought more deaths. More abductions. The next week may bring the same. Nigerians pray it does not. Nigerians ask for a leadership that understands the urgency of the moment. They ask for a military that fights back. They ask for a police force that responds. They ask for a country that feels like a country.

    Nigeria must reclaim its security. It must rebuild its confidence. It must restore the bond between the state and the citizens. It must treat every abduction as an assault on the republic. It must treat every killing as a national injury. It must confront the terror networks with strength and strategy. It must do these things because no country can survive on a wing and on a prayer. The clock is ticking. The country is bleeding. The Nigerians are watching. The world is watching. The Nigerian state must show that it still has the will to protect itself. It must show that it can defend Nigerians. It must show that it is not a defeated republic.

    A new week has begun. The country cannot afford another filled with grief. While Nigerians sink deeper into despair, the pressing question remains: when will President Trump act, if at all, so that Nigerians can once again tend their farms, sell their corn, and bring their wheats to the market without fear? Nigerians are weary of waiting for rescue, yearning for the day they can live without daily encounters with violence, abduction, and the absence of security.

  • Wike, Yerima; Clash of Values and Authority – By Oseloka H. Obaze

    Wike, Yerima; Clash of Values and Authority – By Oseloka H. Obaze

    Two wrongs never make a right. When two people stridently but wrongly assert their rights over an issue, something is systemically wrong. That was the circumstance surrounding the recent Wike-Yerima standoff that has become the greatest content asset for social media lampooners.  But this is a very serious matter relating to military-civilian relations in Nigeria.  For starters, Wike and Yerima took the already fraught military-civilian relations to a whole new subterranean level.

    One of the greatest ills bedeviling good governance in Nigeria is the use of the military for purely civilian police duties in a democracy.  Soldiers by orientation are not good policemen.  It’s not their orientation. It is not their training.  As such they should not be. Yet, because of the military’s long sojourn in Nigeria’s leadership politics, certain traits imbued on the psyche of Nigerians continue to reflect the negative influence of military anti-politics.

    The recent shameful public altercation between Nyesom Wike, the Abuja FCT Minister and a young naval officer, Lt. AM Yerima, speaks to and epitomizes the prevailing crises of our national clash of values and lack of respect for constituted authority.  Those, who like Wike, who occupy high public offices, have unwittingly contributed to the crisis, often by their conduct and their utterances.  Some may say minister Wike deserved his comeuppance.  That’s debatable.  But a minister berating a uniformed military officer, as “a fool” and a “small boy,” lends credence to how deep-seated the crisis has become.   It speaks also to the dearth of patriotism in Nigeria.

    The now viral altercation presented a Catch-22 situation.  Heads both parties lose; tails, both parties lose.  Both Wike and Lt. Yerima, represent by their official positions, constituted authority.   Yet, they both cancelled each other’s prerogative, and shamelessly so.   Today, political leaders take full delight in legitimizing the militarization of our politics.  They have police and military officers guarding them and standing or sitting behind them at public events. Our civilian leaders all covet having ADCs; a purely military culture.  Incidentally, had officer Yerima been assigned as part of the Minister Wike’s security detail, -such assignments which happen frequently-  he would have executed  Wike’s orders the very way he executed the orders of his principal; reportedly a retired three-star military officer.  That’s the irony that was lost on Wike, and his cloistered civilian mindset.  It’s worth recalling that in July 2020, Gov. Wike used his security details to rescue embattled former NDDC managing director Joy Nnuieh from a supposed house confinement. If the truth be told; soldiers are meant to obey the last command.  They follow orders. Moreover, due process in enforcing a purely civic matter, required modalities other than the one deploy routinely by the FCT Minister.

    Here is the sad paradox of that altercation.  In a democracy, the military is statutorily supposed to be subservient to civilian authority.  That respect derives operationally, from the commander-in-chief to his alter egos.  It matters little, if the official is elected or appointed.  Then again, in the order of protocol and official precedence, a minister ranks about the same as a military general.   Interestingly, well before Wike became the FCT minister, four of his predecessors as ministers of the FCT, were soldiers; Gen. Mamman Jiya Vatsa, AVM Hamza Abdullahi, Gen. Gado Nasko and Gen. Jeremaih Timbut Useni.   Now, would young Lt. Yerima, have responded the same way to them in a similar circumstance? I think not.   What this says is that our military has this mindset that every non-military Nigerian, no matter how highly placed, is a “bloody civilian.”   Someone forgot to remind Wike of that reality.  Just as someone forget to tell him that he was not a judge, a sheriff or a bailiff.

    Relatedly, an incident that happened in the late 1980s that is worth recalling, illustrates how our values and respect for constituted authority has been egregiously eroded. During President Ibrahim Babangida’s rule, late Ambassador George Dove-Edwin, one of Nigeria’s most astute and highly respected diplomats, was the High Commissioner in London.  Prior to that assignment he had served as Permanent Secretary in the Foreign Ministry.  At that time, late AVM Hamza Abdullahi, an air force general, was the FCT Minister, a member of the ruling military council and as a very close ally of President Babangida, belonged to his close-knit kitchen cabinet.

    AVM Abdullahi had travelled to Germany and was returning to Nigeria via London.  The High Commission was duly informed of his transit so as to facilitate his transfer after his short layover in London. When High Commissioner Dove Edwin was informed that the FCT Minister would be passing through, he had indicated that he intended to personally go to the airport, and await the Minister’s arrival at the Heathrow Airport protocol lounge. His plan to spend the transit time with the minister was not out of obligation, but as a matter of courtesy and diligence.

    On the appointed day, several hours before Dove-Edwin was to go to the airport, he was summoned to Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) at Whitehall.  Realizing that he might not make it to the airport on time, Dove-Edwin dispatched his Deputy Chief of Protocol to the airport to receive the minister and hold fort until he arrived, just in case he was delayed.  He went a step further.  He sent a personal handwritten note to the FCT Minister explaining his predicament.  The Deputy-Chief of Protocol received Minister Abdullahi, handed over the High Commissioner’s personal note, and reassured him that the High Commissioner would definitely arrive before his departure for Nigeria. AVM Abdullahi was visibly displeased; and made that known in very clear terms.

    When Amb. Dove-Edwin eventually arrived, and was already tendering his apologies as he entered the Protocol Lounge, an irate Minister Abdullahi publicly berated him, using expletives, despite the presence of other high ranking foreign dignitaries in the Lounge.  His grouse; he did not understand what was so important at the Foreign Office to warrant the High Commissioner not being on hand to receive him.  His ultimate faux pas was when he said; “We sent you here at great expense to serve us.”   It was not clear if the “us” was Nigeria, or Nigeria’s top military brass.  A totally stunned Dove-Edwin, though a civilian, stood erect, almost at attention, looked straight at the Minister, and said, “Honourable Minister, your language is most unbecoming and unacceptable. Have a good afternoon.”  He turned around and left.

    The postscript to that saga is that Amb. Dove-Edwin reported the incidence in a dispatch to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, with copy to the Chief of General Staff (CGS).  One point vehemently made in the demarche, was that traditionally, Ambassadors when at post, were only obligated to be present at the airport, when the Head of State, his Deputy or the Foreign Minister visited.  Any such presence, for other senior government officials, was simply, a matter of courtesy- a privilege, not a right.  The upshot is that Dove-Edwin was never queried and never sanctioned, even as some might have deemed his conduct insubordination.  The flip side is that the Minister’s conduct reflected a clash of values that also ridiculed constituted authority: his, and that of the High Commissioner.  In Nigeria, military-civilian relations are complex and fraught with imponderables.  Even when soldiers retire from active duty, and don agbada or kaftan mufti, most generally treat civilians with visible disdain, whenever there is a civil disagreement.  Officer Yerima exemplified that mindset. Also, in Nigeria, soldiers don’t submit to civilian police authority.  That’s a fact.

    The interface between Minister Wike and Lt. Yerima would have ended well, if Wike instead of publicly berating the officer had simply and civilly asked to speak to his principal or commanding officer.  That could have been done, without acrimony. No one appointed the FCT minister a law enforcement police officer or bailiff.  Wike should have also recognized and respected the officer’s obligation to carry out his orders by a constituted authority.  A proper and courteous interface would have also affirmed the Minister’s legitimate position and authority as someone, who was also carrying out his statutory duties at the behest of the commander-in-chief, without the engagement becoming vexatious.

    The Wike-Yerima face off, is a daily occurrence in Nigeria. What happens at military checkpoints across Nigeria is even more appalling. The only difference is that this incident involved a well known public official, whom most Nigerians already consider obtuse and very controversial.   But it was not just Wike that the soldier disrespected; it was the commander-in-chief, who appointed him and the senate that confirmed him. Likewise, it was not only Yerima that Wike called a “small boy” and “a fool”.  Indeed, it was the entire armed forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria that Wike abused. Admittedly, Lt. Yerima did professionally well, not to be provoked by the abuses and name calling. Two wrongs never make a right.

    Even though it is well and good that Lt. Yerima stood his grounds, some of his military superiors know too well that his conduct, despite being polite to Wike, perceptibly did not enhance military-civilian relations.  Often, perception is worse than reality. The messaging was visibly conflictual and condescending.  If a junior officer can publicly do that to a serving minister, what then, can they do to the common man? And on the flip side, can a junior civil servant do same to a serving or retired military general without agonizing reprisals?  I think not! Beyond right and wrong, the Wike-Yerima episode raises more questions than answers. One can only hope that this saga will prompt the urgent rethink and redress of deploying military officers to enforce law and order tasks that are within the statutory remit of the Nigerian police.

     

    ———-

    Obaze is MD/CEO, Selonnes Consult – a policy, governance and management consulting firm in Awka.

  • Misreading Realities -By Abdul Mahmud

    Misreading Realities -By Abdul Mahmud

    There are times when ideas become prisons. When ideology blinds those who hold it. When conviction turns into a wall that shuts out reality. This is what has happened to some of the comrades on the Nigerian Left. They have chosen to see the world only through the prism of anti-imperialism. So much so that they can no longer see the blood that stains the Nigerian earth in Benue, Plateau, and Taraba. Two Comrades stand as examples of this blindness. Femi Falana, a lawyer and long-time human rights advocate. Owei Lakemfa, a trade unionist and columnist. Both men have done admirable work in the past. Both have fought the military. Both have defended the weak. But, on the question of the slaughter of Christians in northern Nigeria, they have become prisoners of old dogmas. Falana says Donald Trump’s claim that Christians are being exterminated in Nigeria is false. Lakemfa goes further. He says the killings are not genocide but the outcome of land grabbing. Both Comrades take comfort in argument. They seek refuge in needless semantics. They forget that while they debate definitions, human beings are being wiped out in their ancestral homes. Perhaps not referring to both, Tunde Aremu, a respected member of the Nigerian Left who has devoted much of his adult life to development work, captures what is essentially a cry of moral frustration at the intellectual dishonesty of denial. Hear him: “You understand now, my brother, why some of us grow infuriated when people paid to deny the reality of our people sit behind their computers, in air-conditioned comfort, spreading falsehoods”.

    There is a difference between skepticism and denial. The Left generally thrives on skepticism. It questions power. It exposes imperial propaganda. But when skepticism becomes denial, it becomes cruel. When Falana dismisses the idea of genocide, he denies the testimony of survivors. He denies the bones of the dead. He denies the evidence that lies scattered across the valleys of the Middle Belt. Lakemfa too misreads the tragedy. He sees it as a struggle for land. As though land, not faith, is the reason villages have been emptied out and churches burned. As though northern Christians are being violently turned on without the ideological poison of jihadism. To call it land grabbing is to flatten reality. It is to erase the religious hatred that fuels the violence.

    The Nigerian Left once prided itself on standing with the oppressed. But some of its comrades now stand not with the people but with rhetoric that is ideologically dishonest, slogans that serve dogma rather than truth. Everything America says must be wrong. Everything the West condemns must be exaggerated. So, when Trump or Western observers describe the killings of Christians as genocide, the instinct of some members of the Left is to dismiss it outright. They would rather defend their ideology and be wrong than confront the enemies of the people and be right. This is not new. A few scholars of the Left have long called out this intellectual arrogance. The late Polish philosopher, Leszek Kołakowski, wrote that the tragedy of Marxism was not only political but moral. He argued that the Left had become so fixated on its struggle against capitalism that it lost the ability to see evil elsewhere. Terry Eagleton, the Marxist literary critic, later warned that the Left’s obsession with imperialism made it blind to new forms of domination, whether religious, cultural, or ethnic. In the same way, Falana and Lakemfa display what the prominent US political theorist and philosopher, Michael Walzer, once described as “the moral blindness of the sectarian Left”. They see imperialism everywhere except where it is absent. They read northern Nigeria as a chessboard where America moves pieces and fabricates narratives. They cannot accept that local actors masquerading as ethnic militias, religious fundamentalists, and entrepreneurs of religious conflicts can produce violence on their own.

    But they are wrong. The massacres in Benue, Taraba, Plateau, and southern Kaduna are not Western fiction. They are not stories written by the CIA. They are realities witnessed by those who bury their dead in mass graves. Reporters, missionaries, aid workers, and local NGOs have documented the killings. Satellite images have shown razed villages. Survivors tell of attacks that begin with chants of Allahu Akbar and end with burning crosses. These massacres are not mere accidents of land disputes. They are the result of deep-seated religious hatred fueled by a violent ideology.

    To call the massacres anything less than genocide is to play with words. Raphael Lemkin, who coined the term genocide, defined it as the destruction of a group in whole or in part. He did not say that the group must be annihilated completely. Nor did he say the motive must be purely political. He said it is enough if the intention is to destroy the group’s existence, culture, or faith. By that standard, the targeted killings of Christians in northern Nigeria fit the definition. The Marxist suspicion of religion adds another layer to the blindness. For many on the Left, religion has always been the opium of the masses. A distraction from material struggle. So, when Christians are killed, they see not believers but pawns. They reduce faith to false consciousness. They cannot imagine that people might die for belief, not for land. They forget that even Marx, in his later writings, softened his stance on religion as he observed the social sufferings of real people. There is also an element of moral cowardice. To acknowledge genocide would require confronting the failure of the Nigerian state. It would mean admitting that ideology cannot explain away every atrocity. It would mean standing with victims who may not share the Left’s worldview.

    The Nigerian Left has not always lacked empathy. It has long combined careful analysis with genuine compassion, dissecting suffering while identifying with those who endure it. So what has gone wrong? Some of its leading cadres seem to have ignored Mark Lilla, who, in The Reckless Mind, warned that intellectuals who subordinate morality to ideology become servants of abstraction. These intellectuals defend ideas at the expense of real people. That is where Falana and Lakemfa now stand. They frame every argument through the lens of anti-imperialism, even when the subject at hand does not warrant such a perspective. They cling to a narrative that has become disconnected from the immediate suffering it ought to address.

    But, one must ask: what does it profit some cadres of the Nigerian Left to win an argument against Trump but lose its moral compass? Trump may be cynical. He may exploit Christian persecution for political gain. But his cynicism does not erase the truth of the persecution. To reject his statement simply because it came from him is to mistake the messenger for the message. It is to allow hatred of the West to become hatred of truth. The violence in northern Nigeria has roots in history, religion, and state failure. Colonial boundaries, demographic pressures, desertification, and elite manipulation all play their part. But to deny the religious dimension is to deny the essence of the conflict. When priests are beheaded at the altar, when worshippers are burned inside churches, when attackers shout Islamic slogans, the motive speaks for itself. Some Comrades on the Left must learn to see, and learn to glimpse realities. They must learn that reality is not what ideology permits it to see. The poor and oppressed they claim to defend are not abstractions. They have names. They have graves. Falana and Lakemfa have misread this reality. In their zeal to challenge imperial narratives, they have joined the list of Comrades who confuse skepticism with denial. The result is a moral failure. It is time for them, and others like them, to lay down the old dogmas and face the facts. The truth is simple. People are being killed for their faith in northern Nigeria. That is not a Western script. It is a Nigerian horror. The Nigerian Left once called on society to speak truth to power. Today, it must speak truth to its own ideology.

  • The Trails of Nnamani – By M.O Ene

    The Trails of Nnamani – By M.O Ene

    A dozen days after Air Marshal SK Aneke of Ụmụaga, Udi LGA, another eagle landed in Ọzara, Nkanu West LGA. In Igbo folkloristics, such sightings are rare and revered.

    Rumors had been rampant about nominating Ifeanyi Ugwuanyi, Sullivan Chime, Chimaroke Nnamani, or Jeff Nnamani for the open Enugu State seat in the federal executive council.

    On November 4, President Tinubu nominated Attorney-General Kingsley Tochukwu Udeh, LL.D/PhD, SAN. I was not surprised: Gov. Peter Mbah had imbibed Chimaroke Nnamani’s style of appointments for the future.

    I took note of Dr. Udeh in Ugwuanyi’s regime. As a Special Adviser and later Commissioner for Rural Development, he took on stabilizing town governments. While he ran in the 2023 PDP gubernatorial primaries, two of his native Ọzara dudes duked it out on APGA party platform: Frank Nweke and Dons Udeh (now late).

    Mbah won eventually. I openly endorsed him for the same spot in the executive council to persevere on the peacemaking paths. Without stable and strong community governments, elitist city changes will benefit few Enugu people. I didn’t know he was a lawyer! Boom: He became the AG and later Senior Advocate of Nigeria, SAN. During the lawyers’ 2025 convention in Enugu, Senator Dino Melaye saw something and said something. Nigerians noticed.

    With the exit of Uche Nnaji and the PDP-APC defection wave in October, Mbah captured the power to anoint a ministerial replacement. He deployed Dr. Chimaroke Nnamani philosophy: the perspective that projected Hon. Frank Nweke, then chief of staff to Gov. Nnamani, to become a minister and catapulted Mbah, fresh out of law school at Agbani, into the corridors of power in 2003.

    The name “Nnamani” has become a recurring surname in politics. From DO Nnamani to Jeff Nnamani, we got the quintessential Chimaroke of the dividends-of-democracy fame and Senate President Ken Nnamani, the big barrier to President Obasanjo’s third-term vision.

    Which Nnamani is Dr. Udeh trailing, thanks to the dividends of defection? No, it is not Chimaroke Nnamani, the erudite Ebeano exponent—another Nnamani, his uncle: Revered Supreme Court Justice Augustine Nnamani, Esq., PhD, SAN, a man of majesty, dignity, and integrity,

    Justice Augustine Nnamani was a trailblazer. Before his 11 years on the Supreme Court, he was the Attorney General of Nigeria, a commissioner for housing, lands, and survey in East Central State, and an attorney-general of Anambra State. An erudite economist and a juggernaut of jurisprudence, he was one of the first five SANs from the East (including Olisachukwura, Nwakamma Okoro, Nwabueze, and GCM Onyiuke).

    “The Oracle at the Pinnacle of Justice” was the first SAN in the Supreme Court. Nnamani nailed these stellar successes in his mid-50s. He passed away before becoming a surefire Chief Justice of Nigeria.

    Good fruits do not fall far from the tree. Down the road from Augustine Nnamani Campus of the Nigerian Law School, a seed has germinated in Ọzara. From Dr. KT Udeh, “Ude Enugu,” we will pluck many more fruits from 042: the land of law lords. Just up the Udi Hills, we had the mightiest of Supreme Court: Justices Dadi Onyema (World Court), Nnaemeka Agu, Anthony Aniagolu, Dennis Edozie, Chris Chukwuma-Eneh, and Chima Centus Nweze, PhD.

    Here is crossing fingers for a competent and capable citizen who is yet to display his full potential.

    @OkaaMOE
    Friday, November 7, 2025

  • Nigeria at the Crossroads: We Must Take Responsibility for Our Future – By Frank Nweke II

    Nigeria at the Crossroads: We Must Take Responsibility for Our Future – By Frank Nweke II

    Weeks ago, several persons were reportedly arrested over an alleged coup against the government. President Bola Tinubu responded immediately with decisive intelligence gathering, swift restructuring of the military hierarchy and clear resolve to neutralise any threat to power. That singular action revealed what our state is capable of when urgency is prioritised.

    Yet, Nigerians are being killed, displaced and terrorised every day, and have been for years, without that same determination from our governments to staunch the bloodletting. Entire communities are left unprotected, and the government’s silence carries the painful implication that defending authority is urgent but defending citizens is optional.

    America’s recent threat toward Nigeria is unhelpful and inconsistent with international laws and norms. Yet it reflects a deeper reality: the world has lost confidence in a nation that has failed to secure itself. We must look inward and rebuild strength from within.

    While there is much to say concerning this matter, I am deeply concerned that internal killings persist and that an external attack could occur even as we engage in debates to apportion blame, critique the government’s response, or analyse the dire consequences an American offensive could have on our nation.

    Therefore, here are some immediate and strategic actions the government should consider:

    1. Lead with data

    America has made proclamations based on data. The Nigerian government must respond with data, not claims of falsehood. Announce an independent, time-bound inquiry into violence against civilians across all faiths and regions. Publish monthly data on casualties and displacement, and invite credible observers. Replace claims with evidence, and make protection the metric of progress rather than propaganda.

    2. Show citizen-focused urgency at home.

    Replicate the tempo shown in the coup response by deploying civilian-protection operations in hotspots, apprehending and punishing perpetrators, and holding monthly public security briefings that clearly outline goals, timelines, and outcomes.

    3. Review the management of internal security beyond the service chiefs.

    Our security must stop revolving around personalities and partisan interests but around systems that guarantee accountability, efficiency, and measurable protection for citizens. The President should initiate a comprehensive review of Nigeria’s internal security architecture – from intelligence coordination and policing to state-level frameworks – to ensure coherence and competence across all layers.

    4. Affirm international laws

    Reaffirm that any foreign military action without a United Nations mandate violates international law and will be contested through diplomatic and legal channels. At the same time, offer cooperation against terrorism strictly within Nigeria’s consent framework.

    5. Lead with strategic communications

    Streamline all communication through official channels and designated spokespersons to ensure clarity and coherence. Address the nation with respected religious and traditional leaders alongside the President. Condemn all forms of sectarian violence, outline a clear protection plan, share progress dashboards, and provide daily briefings to pre-empt rumours and fear.

    6. Fix the diplomatic machinery.

    Immediately fill key ambassadorial posts, adequately resource embassies to function effectively, and establish a crisis coordination cell to unify messaging between Abuja and foreign missions so that Nigeria speaks with one credible voice.

    From experience in public service, I have learned that nations project power from within, not without.

    Nigeria must remember that sovereignty is not defended by defiance alone, but by competence, consistency, and credibility. True influence rests on internal security, sound policies, economic productivity, verifiable human progress and respect for the rule of law. These are the pillars that inspire confidence in citizens and command the respect of others. When they are absent, disrespect follows naturally.

    This moment is not only a test of diplomacy but of character, of whether we can rise above excuses, restore confidence in our state, and prove Nigeria’s resolve to value and defend every Nigerian life.

    Frank Nweke II.

  • One Year an Orphan: Reminiscences on Lives and Times of Rabbi Gabriel and Mother Josephine Anichukwu

    One Year an Orphan: Reminiscences on Lives and Times of Rabbi Gabriel and Mother Josephine Anichukwu

    By Uche Anichukwu

    I am penning this piece just a few minutes before 12 midnight, November 1, 2025. It is also a few minutes to the first anniversary of the passing of the great lioness, the late Senior Mother-in-Israel Josephine Mgborie Anichukwu (nee Anyianuka-Orji). October 2024 was a particularly trying period for our family, as our dear mother, fought valiantly for dear life. At about this time of the night last year, I made to go to my residence to shower, change to something else, and return to the hospital quickly. I had not showered all day. I was already downstairs, but somehow, I could not put myself beyond the door. Something in me pulled me back to my mother’s bedside.

    Back to her bedside, I sat quietly by Mama and I played one of her favourite hymns – Almighty Jah Jehovah, the freely giver of old… proclaim thy wonderful works. She was a member of the Eternal Sacred Order of the Cherubim and Seraphim. Although Mama was unconscious, I knew she was listening.

    Suddenly, Mama seemed not to be breathing again. I called out to my elder brother, Nnaemeka, who was also with her. He was taking his bath. I alerted the nurse stationed just in front of the room. She did one or two things and quickly called the doctor on night duty. After examining her, checking her pulse and all, he mentioned something to the nurse, who drew the bedsheet to cover the Lioness.

    Thank God for the disbelief which hit me first. Otherwise, I wonder if I could have survived the shock of losing my mother, unable to put up a fight, unable to defend the daughter of the Irokos, unable to at least chop off the right ear of the grim reaper just like Peter did to Malchus during Christ’s arrest. As far as I was concerned, it appeared like a drama, or perhaps, just a nightmare.

    A similar thing happened to me when I learnt of the passing of my father, the late Rabbi (Chief) Gabriel Nworie Anichukwu. He joined the saints on 15th October 1995. I had just finished my second semester, year one, examination in the university. As far as I was concerned, they did not know what they were saying. Perhaps it was just a movie scene being rehearsed. I just sat quietly and listened, confused and tensed. Somehow, I just did not believe the news. Or better put, I was too shell-shocked to come to terms with the reality. I could not even cry immediately.

    In the case of Mama, it was not until I saw her being wheeled out of the ward, covered in white bedspread that I broke down uncontrollably like a child. The words Shakespeare put in the mouth of Mark Antony’s in “Julius Caesar” tore through my heart: “O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low, Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well.” Truth is, I never really believed death could conquer her.

    Mama barred us from informing anyone, including our larger family, that she was hospitalised. She was a strong woman, who obviously did not want to be seen in her weak state. But before she left our hometown, Nomeh, to Enugu, she had spoken with Amoge (my first cousin), Madam Vicky (a family friend) and a few others detailing to them the people she gave our individual and family parcels of land to farm. Amoge, said the last time she visited Nomeh before Mama’s death, she was forced to tell Mama that she was scaring her be the story and details she was dishing to her. Mama asked her if she (Amoge) was a child. Again, Mama had also promised my younger brother, Onyekachi (Omego), who lives overseas, that she would wait to see and cuddle her grandchildren. Yet she would remind him that she had brought him up to be strong and assured him that she would always watch over us. In retrospect, I think Mama prepared us for her departure, just that we were too carried away by our love for her, our determination to keep here, to read in-between the lines. The rest is history.

    Death closes all, as Alfred Lord Tennyson puts it. But it would never close the fond memories our parents left behind or the extreme sacrifices they made to see us through life. As I stated in my tribute during Mama’s funeral in February 2025, “Mother Josephine Anichukwu: And My Mama Departs in a Blaze of Glory” (https://www.thisdaylive.com/2025/03/01/mother-josephine-anichukwu-and-my-mama-departs-in-a-blaze-of-glory/), one of our greatest gifts in life is to be parented by teachers. I urge the reader to click on the link to know more about my mother.

    A combination of their attributes helped in shaping us. Both were great disciplinarians in different ways. Mama would pursue after you until she caught and flogged you like a masquerade. Papa, on the other hand, would allow you to run all you wanted, then wake you up in the middle of your sleep in the dead of the night. He would recount your “sins” and proceed to give it to you “woto-woto”, as the Nigerian parlance goes. Again, while Papa did not beat often, each of his therapies lasted you till the next season.

    They both believed that as a teacher’s child, you should be a shining example to others. So, if we fell into punishment at school (at least one of them was always in the same primary school that we attended), you would get a double portion of discipline. On one occasion, our father flogged me so mercilessly that I could not use my buttocks for several days.

    Our father was a highly principled person, who stood for what was right. He was a Returning Officer during the heady days of the 1983 general election. Some group of gun-wielding thugs from one of the two popular parties stormed the voting centre. They wanted him to alter the results, to which he stubbornly refused. Mama’s rigid principles are also well known.
    From childhood, they taught us many deep things about life. They taught us to run away from injustice. They taught us the sanctity of human life and the sacredness of human blood. They taught us the efficacy of prayers. They taught us absolute trust in God and I can attest that there is nothing beyond God. Nothing! He has been our help in ages past and remains our hope in years to come.

    They equally taught us that hard work pays. As a headmaster, father marked his teachers’ lesson notes like examination scripts. From time to time, he would also go from class to class, along the corridors to monitor them as they taught their classes. At a point, I lived with him at Ozalla, in present day Nkanu West Local Government Area. Whenever he was sick, I would beg him not to go to work the next day. He would agree. But by 7am, he would mount his Suzuki motorcycle and ride off to work. If I tried to protest, he would say, “Boy, duty is duty.” Many years after his demise, I learnt from one of his teachers that they actually called him Duty is Duty behind him.

    Likewise, our mother refused to spend any reasonable time anytime she visited her children in the township. She would tell you that her children (pupils) would be like sheep without a shepherd. We fought over this on several occasions. Till her death, she remembered and called every one of her former pupils by his or her full name, even when some of them had become grandmothers. She had this everlasting bond with them.

    They valued education and learning so highly. Father was cerebral. Each time he took us to Agbani for Children’s Day or Independence Day celebrations, his colleagues and school mates would usually say, “I hope you are as intelligent as your father?” Father disliked bad grammar and academic laziness and pretences. Sometime during my secondary education, the idea of speaking like the Whiteman became quite popular. I tried to converse with dad like an Oyibo as we returned from evening church service. He turned and asked me why I was sounding “hio hio hio” like someone with a broken nose. I still laugh so hard each time I remember the incident.

    Following father’s demise in 1995, the entire weight of seeing us through our education fell on our mother’s shoulders. She literally overworked herself in the process. As my earlier-referenced tribute shows, she was the type that would even give her own life for her children to live and succeed.

    They taught us service to one’s community. They served Nomeh in various capacities. Father served as Secretary of Nomeh Development Union at a point, while mother served as the Financial Secretary of Nomeh Unateze United Women Association. They initiated what metamorphosed today into Nomeh-Unateze Maternity Health Centre.
    Today is exactly a year since Mama passed on and one full year since we became orphans. It has not been easy. Sometimes, after Sunday service, I make to drive to Nomeh to see Mama, but only to remember that she is no more. Again, several events since after her death keep validating all her warnings and counsels. I am sure if she was still here with us, her words would have been “Did I not warn you?” Yet in all things, God has been faithful.

    Rest on, Papa, Nwa Ofia Inyinya Okereke Igboke Anyiomaa Egbo Ogbuna na Amigbo Alumangu Obodosaa. Rest on Mama mu, Ada Anuka Orji Nwa Onuofu Orji na Njoku Ekwe Alumangu. Rest on Onwuetuegwu. You are both deeply loved and sorely missed. But it is well. Obodo gbara onwe, ochighi echi. We will keep the flags flying high.

    To thousands, who stood by us throughout the challenging times of our mother’s death and funerals, we remain ever indebted in gratitude to you all. Indeed, mmadu ka e ji aga.

    Mazi Anichukwu writes from Obinagu, Nomeh Unataeze

  • The Ambassadorial Burden of a Failing Republic

    The Ambassadorial Burden of a Failing Republic

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Nigeria has finally plunged into the depths of morass. Deep and troubling depths, difficult to climb out. The new list of ambassadorial nominees tells a familiar story. It is the story of a country that refuses to rise. A country that recycles its worst. A country that decorates failure and calls it service. The President has sent a fresh batch of names to the Senate. Thirty two in all. They join an earlier set of three. It should be a moment of pride for our country. It should be a moment to showcase our best. Instead, it is an embarrassing parade of deadwood and political survivors who have little business representing a country in need of credibility. Look closely at the list. Former governors who left no mark at home. Former commissioners who are remembered only for patronage. Former legislators who saw public office as personal property. Election riggers who supervised the erosion of trust in the ballot. People rejected by their states but rewarded at the national level. This is not a diplomatic corps. This is a retirement home for the politically displaced persons of dubious interest and politicians of particular concern.

    The diplomatic service is the face of a country. It is the voice of a people. It is the place where competence matters. It is the place where integrity stands firm. Countries rise or fall on the quality of the people they send abroad. That is why serious countries take diplomatic postings seriously. They understand the weight of consular and diplomatic representations. Nigeria does the opposite. We treat embassies as political rehabilitation centres. We treat foreign missions as consolation prizes. We reward political loyalty. We punish merit. We sideline career officers. We insult the service. We diminish the country.

    Look at how other countries behave.

    The United States sends seasoned diplomats with years of service. Sometimes it sends political nominees but even those are men and women with serious achievements. They are people with policy minds. People nuanced in policy. People who can open doors abroad, and in promotion of their countries’ national interest. France sends its finest administrators. China sends disciplined technocrats who understand the world. India sends highly trained officers drawn from its foreign service elite. South Korea sends competent professionals who understand trade, investment and technology. These countries understand diplomacy as a strategic asset. They understand that ambassadors carry the weight of national interest. They know that representation is a serious business. They know that no country rises when mediocrities carry its passport across borders.

    Nigeria stands alone in its contempt for excellence. Its rulers insist that political actors who have failed at home somehow succeed abroad. They believe that those who ruined local institutions will protect national interests in foreign capitals. This is an illusion built on arrogance. It is a tragedy built on notoriously poor habits. The damage is visible. Many of our missions are weak. Some are directionless. Some are barely functional. They cannot protect citizens. They cannot attract investment. They cannot sell the country. They cannot build serious bilateral ties. They cannot speak the language of global diplomacy. They cannot engage because they do not understand the issues. The result? Our passport is treated with suspicion across the world. Our missions cannot help. They lack the skill. They lack the influence. They lack the respect. Nigeria is big but its diplomatic voice is small. It whispers at foreign tables where others speak loudly. It watches while others act. The new list promises more decline. Rapid decline.

    There are career officers in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs who have trained for decades. They understand protocol. They understand negotiation. They understand the UN system. They understand the African Union. They understand the slow and patient work of diplomacy. In pursuit of tokenism, a few career diplomats are thrown into the appointment mix, while many watch politicians with no knowledge of international diplomacy take positions meant for professionals. It is demoralising. It is destructive. It weakens an institution that is already fragile. But, there is a grave cost to mediocrity. Every bad envoy carries Nigeria’s weaknesses abroad. Every failed politician posted to a foreign capital worsens our country’s poor reputation. Foreign governments know who is serious and who is not. They know when a country sends its best. They know when a country parades deadwood and sends political handshake dealers abroad to man its missions.

    Nigeria keeps promoting payback tokenism. Nigeria keeps sending liabilities abroad.

    Worse still, Nigeria keeps sending men and women whose only qualification is their usefulness to the President. This is the tragedy of a country caught in the cycle of low expectations and low standards. There is a moral problem as well. Some of the nominees helped produce the electoral chaos that Nigerians now live with.  Some supervised flawed elections. Professor Mahmood Yakubu is one example. Some defended impunity with unmatched zeal. Reno Omokri and Femi Fani-Kayode stand as its most enthusiastic evangelists, men who turned public discourse into theatrics and acrobatics. They did not merely excuse the excesses of power. They flipped. They flopped. They flip-flopped. They somersaulted around truth, to the point of eating their vomits. They justified impunity. They amplified falsehoods as if truth were an inconvenience. They embraced propaganda as a vocation. In a country struggling to rebuild trust in its institutions, their voices have too often deepened cynicism and normalised the erosion of accountability. Some weakened public trust. To reward them with diplomatic postings is to endorse their conduct. It sends a message that the state has no ethical core. It signals that public office is not a service but a spoil of war.

    The world is changing. Diplomacy is now about technology, climate change, migration, security, trade and innovation. Nations that understand this are recruiting the brightest minds. They are building strong foreign services. They are investing in knowledge. They are preparing for a complex future. Nigeria is doing none of this. Nigeria is moving backward while others are moving forward. There are Nigerians who can serve well. Distinguished scholars. Former international civil servants. Former judges. Entrepreneurs who built serious institutions. Career officers who have risen through merit. Professionals who have excelled across the world. They are not on the list. They are not considered. They are not invited. They are not valued. They are simply not wanted by power. They are not listening to scholars and practitioners in the field. Even if they don’t want to listen to the former Indian diplomat and scholar, Kishan Rana, who has written extensively on diplomatic professionalism and appointment criteria, our country has the respected Professor Bolaji Akinyemi who has consistently argued that the selection of ambassadors should be grounded in merit, professionalism, and national interest rather than political patronage. In his view, diplomacy is a specialised field that demands competence, experience, cultural sensitivity, and a deep understanding of international affairs. He stresses that career diplomats, trained within the foreign service system, are best positioned to represent the state effectively and maintain continuity in foreign policy. While acknowledging that political appointments may sometimes be unavoidable, he warns that excessive politicisation weakens professionalism, erodes institutional memory, and diminishes a country’s global standing. His overarching position is that ambassadorial appointments must prioritise expertise and integrity to protect the country’s diplomatic credibility.

    These ambassadorial appointments are a mirror. They show us what our rulers think of Nigeria. They don’t take Nigeria seriously, as the poet, Odia Ofeimun highlighted with intellectual verve and flourish two decades ago. They show us how little is expected of our country. They show us how low the bar has fallen. A country that wants greatness must send great people to represent it. A country that sends its failures abroad will receive the respect such failure deserves. The Senate will confirm the nominees. It always does. It will ask a few questions. It will praise the list. It will claim that the nominees are qualified. Then, it will ask the ambassadorial nominees to “take a bow and go”. It will then move on. Nigeria will move on as well but in the wrong direction. Another opportunity for progress will be lost. Nigeria deserves better. Nigerians deserve better. The world deserves to see our country takes itself seriously. A country that knows that dignity and competence matter. A country that believes that representation is sacred.

    One day our country will rise above the needless elephantine burden it chooses to place on its own back. The weight is heavy. It is the weight of recycled failures. It is the weight of institutions drained of confidence. It is the weight of a country that keeps dragging the carcass of its worst habits into a future that demands clarity, courage and competence. No country grows by carrying the load of its own mediocrity. No Republic moves forward when it insists on hauling along with the same tired figures who helped slow its steps. Nigeria must learn to travel light. It must learn to shed the burdens that weaken its ambition. Only then can it walk with purpose among countries that have already learnt that progress begins with choices that honour the present and protect the future.

    Today is not that day for our failing Republic.

  • Soludo: Fighting Voter Apathy, Not Buying Votes [OPINION]

    Soludo: Fighting Voter Apathy, Not Buying Votes [OPINION]

    By Christian Aburime 

    Politics is that volatile turf where sentiments, propaganda, and innuendos often take centre stage in an election season. In this part of the world, the political game gets even more sinister as heightened sensibilities rush to react to every contentious news story to create warped impressions that desperate politicians exploit to denigrate their opponents.

    Thus is the perfect example of those making a mountain out of a molehill. Now, in the lead-up to the Anambra State governorship election on November 8, Governor Chukwuma Charles Soludo has been unfairly attacked with allegations of vote buying via incentivisation. The claims are not only baseless but also a significant misrepresentation of his intentions and actions. It is essential to examine the contexts and clarify the true nature of the incentives mentioned by Governor Soludo, which are entirely legitimate and in line with democratic principles.

    During a campaign rally in Umunze, Orumba South Local Government Area, Governor Soludo spoke about providing financial incentives to his party members. He stated, “When we were campaigning for the Senate, we knew we were going to win every ward in the South Senatorial Zone, but we still had some incentives. Any ward that APGA won received N1m, and we won all the wards in Orumba South. We promised each of these wards N1m, and next week, we will redeem it. The ward that comes first will get N5m, the second N3m, and the third N2m. That was the deal. For November 8, any ward that wins again will receive N1m, while the first three performing wards will get N5m, N2m, and N1m, respectively.” What a discerning reader would notice in the foregoing statements is the clause “we will redeem it.” This means that wards may have been won, but the rewards come only later, not before.

    Yet, immediately after the Umunze rally, the news went viral that the Governor was engaged in vote-buying. Impulsive outbursts took over as every opinionated critic kicked with an opinion. As typical of Nigerian political discourse, misrepresentations and vilifications spiralled out of control.

    Surprised, Governor Soludo later clarified his position at an APGA rally in Onitsha North Local Government area. He emphasized that the incentives promised were not meant to buy votes but to motivate party canvassers to mobilise voters. He stated, “Don’t sit at home and say Soludo has won. No, we have not won until you have voted. Do you still have your PVC?” He further explained, “We in the APGA, we stand for one man, one vote, transparent, free and fair election. We are going to cooperate with INEC to make sure that this will be the freest, most credible election ever conducted by INEC.” Now, do these statements sound like someone trying to compromise voters?

    Indeed, Governor Soludo likened the incentives to a manufacturer rewarding its marketers for increased sales, a legitimate exercise. He said, “That is what the prizes of APGA are about! Remember that members of political parties constitute less than 5 percent of voters. So, it is members of our political party as canvassers who are being incentivised to mobilise voters to the polling units. In politics all over the world, including America, political parties pay canvassers before elections. But in our own case, we are not paying them before the election. We say to them that if they win their wards, we will have a prize for them.” Definitely, the rewards coming for party canvassers (not voters) after the election cannot qualify as someone inducing voters before the election.

    Governor Soludo has repeatedly emphasized his commitment to a free, fair, and transparent election. He has called for cooperation with the Independent National Electoral Commission(INEC) to ensure that the election is credible and that every vote counts. He stated, “We just want people to cast the votes, count the votes, announce the votes and know who the winner will be.” His call for voters to cast their ballots and for the results to be accurately announced clearly underscores his dedication to democratic principles.

    But the real, bigger issue in all of this is voter apathy. One of the key challenges in any election in contemporary Nigeria is voter apathy. Governor Soludo’s incentives are designed to combat this issue by motivating canvassers to engage with voters and encourage participation. As he explained, “Instead of paying you upfront, we provide the incentives after the election. It’s like commission agents who earn commission on products selling. So, if you work hard and convince people to come out to vote, then we have a reward for you after the election.” This is necessary due to voter apathy which was a problem in previous elections.

    Therefore, the allegations of vote buying against Governor Chukwuma Soludo are unfounded and misleading. His statements about providing incentives are clear, noble and competition-driven: they are meant to reward the hard work of party canvassers and to combat voter apathy. These incentives are a legitimate part of campaign strategy anywhere in the world, and are in no way an attempt to bribe voters. A high-performing governor like Professor Soludo, whose impressive achievements are undeniable and winning awards, doesn’t need to buy votes to win re-election.

    With the November 8 election fast approaching, it is crucial to focus on the issues and policies that matter to Ndi Anambra, not shadows chasing. Governor Soludo’s vision for the state and his dedication to ensuring a credible and transparent electoral process should be recognised and supported, not taken out of context and spun into wild allegations.

  • A Megastar Magnifies Umuaga – By M.O Ene

    A Megastar Magnifies Umuaga – By M.O Ene

    When citizens are appointed to prominent positions, people rush to know their roots. The major appointments of Friday, October 24, 2025, were no exceptions. The military served meticulous dossiers: parents, wives, children, travels, qualifications, training, and degrees. Air Vice Marshal Sunday Kelvin Aneke, the 23rd Chief of Air Staff, popped up like a supernova in a cosmic carnival destined to renew a dormant planet.

    “He hails from Udi Local Government Area of Enugu State.” Folks of Agbaja extraction (Udi/Ezeagụ LGAs mostly) identified as “Udi”—a consequential colonial division. Udi town was the administrative capital of the East before colonial colliery took the government station and its airfield down to the valleys of Udi Hills. Enugu emerged. Coal City.

    When Aneke’s root narrowed to Ụmụaga town, the gasp was loud. Although Aneke had been known in the area, encouraging youths to consider careers in the military setups, the name, rank, and town of the megastar with a brilliant resume remained intriguing. To emerge as the first Southeasterner to hold such a lofty position is no tobacco chaff.

    So, where is Ụmụaga? The town nestles on the southern end of Udi LGA. General access is off Nkwọ Agụ market/Udi technical college on old Enugu-Onitsha highway, through Sullivan Chime-macadamized main road. The two thoroughfares geolocate Ụmụaga. The southern flank is washed by Oji River, which powered the East with hydrothermal electricity. Tentatively, one can sail from Ụmụaga to the Atlantic.

    Called “Ụmụaga Obodoeze” by natives, it is one of eight communities in Udi South. According to legend, forefather Neke had seven sons, collectively called Umuneke (children of Neke). The last son, Aga, begot sons who founded villages of Ụmụaga and the eight town, Nāchị.

    Sidebar: The singular form of ‘umu’ (children) is ‘nwa’ (child). In fast-paced dialects, ‘nwa’ becomes ‘wa’—as in some Abia, Enugu, and Ikwere parlances. Similarly, ‘w’ fades. So, ‘nwa Neke’ (son of Neke) becomes “a’Neke,” as in “Yar’Adua” but written as ‘Aneke.’

    Someone asked succinctly: What is in this for Ụmụaga? By magnifying Ụmụaga, AVM Aneke is a shining light that reveals human potentials, vast land resources, best palm wine (‘anekeachime’), food delicacies, and its vibrant cultural heritage: ‘Iheaneke’ masquerade festival, youth-fascinating ‘Okomọyọ,’ new yam festival (‘Ajụ’), and end-of-year entertainments, especially inter-village soccer sponsored by Umuaga Diaspora Union—the community project powerhouse.

    AVM Aneke could leave an indelible mark by establishing a permanent and prestigious presence of the air force in the southeast. The civil aviation activities at Akanu Ibiam International Airport should not constrain the air force base and the International Helicopter Flying School (IHFS). Such an institution deserves ample open space.

    IHFS should soar up the hills, where aviation began in colonial Southern Nigeria. Thus, during recruitment exercises into military establishments, there will be less complaints about the apathy of some sections of Nigerian youths. This will be an important yield from his appointment to the pinnacle of Nigerian Air Force.

    Good deeds follow good news. Air Vice Marshal S.K. Aneke has generated excitement. The young ones will aspire to be like him. They cannot all be air vice marshals. True: they must aspire to be marshals—marshal mechanics, marshal managers, marshal mentors and mentees… even marshal politicians. In all professions, excellence comes with hard work, honesty, humanity, and humility.

    M.O. Ene
    @OkaaMoe
    Thursday, October 30, 2025

  • [OPINION] As Nnolim Nnaji Repositions For The Future: Strategy, Constituency And Political Renewal

    [OPINION] As Nnolim Nnaji Repositions For The Future: Strategy, Constituency And Political Renewal

    By Ezefi Mike Udoh 

    In politics, timing is everything — and strategy even more so. The defection today of Rt. Hon. Nnolim Nnaji from the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) to the All Progressives Congress (APC) is neither an impulsive gamble nor a routine political migration. It is a deliberate recalibration, a tactical shift designed to position both the lawmaker and his constituency at the center of Nigeria’s evolving political equation.

    Rt. Hon. Nnaji, a respected parliamentarian and voice of reason in national discourse, has long stood for purposeful representation and pragmatic governance. His record speaks volumes: steadfast advocacy for infrastructural development, commitment to youth empowerment, and a reputation for integrity in legislative affairs. Yet, in an increasingly polarized political climate where access to power is synonymous with access to progress, remaining within the opposition bench risked constraining his developmental agenda for his people.

    By moving to the APC, Nnaji is not merely switching political jerseys — he is choosing effectiveness over sentiment, influence over isolation. His move symbolizes a new kind of political realism that recognizes that true service sometimes requires bold recalibration. The APC, as the party in control of the federal government, offers a wider corridor for legislative collaboration, policy influence, and constituency development.

    Critics may label this as opportunism, but the discerning mind will see it for what it truly is: strategic alignment. In Nigeria’s political ecosystem, where power and governance are often intertwined, aligning with the ruling party can mean unlocking access to federal projects, attracting infrastructural investments, and securing opportunities for one’s people. To ignore this reality would be to neglect the very essence of political representation — delivering tangible results.

    Rt. Hon. Nnolim Nnaji’s move is therefore not a retreat from principle, but an assertion of purpose. It is a declaration that loyalty to one’s people must supersede loyalty to partisan labels. In stepping into the APC, he steps closer to the levers of national policy, ready to engage, negotiate, and deliver more robustly for his constituency.

    Ultimately, history will judge leaders not by the colors of their political banners, but by the legacies they leave behind. And for Rt. Hon. Nnolim Nnaji, this bold political realignment may very well be remembered as the defining pivot that ushered his constituency into a new era of inclusion, empowerment, and progress.

    Ezefi Mike Udoh writes from Ihunekwagu Akpugo.