OTHERS' VIEWS

OTHERS' VIEWS

On 13 December 1972, Zambia’s founding president, Kenneth Kaunda, signed into law the Constitution (Amendment) Acts, numbers 3,4 and 5 ending the country’s First Republic and ushering in a new constitution for the country, which promised a “One-Party Participatory Democracy” under “one and only one party…., namely, the United National Independence Party (UNIP).” All of this was to be realized under an official ideology of “Humanism.” The previous day, Zambia’s Court of Appeal had thrown out the case brought by veteran nationalist, Harry Nkumbula, in his appeal from the decision of the High Court dismissing his case against the establishment of a one-party state. 

The developments leading to Zambia’s chastening detour into one-party authoritarianism under President Kaunda should offer an object lesson to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and all the people cheering him on in his transparent machinations to turn Nigeria into a single-party experiment denuded of opposition parties. 

Zambia’s march to one-party rule began following the general election in December 1968. At that election, the ruling UNIP of President Kaunda had won an overwhelming majority. The African National Congress (ANC) of Harry Nkumbula came a distant second with a handful of members of parliament confined to Nkumbula’s stronghold in the southern province. 

The constitution adopted at Zambia’s independence in 1964 established a multi-party system of government. In 1940, Godwin Lewanika emerged as the president of the Northern Rhodesia Congress, the first organized political party in the country that would later come to be known as Zambia. 11 years later, the party became known as Northern Rhodesia African National Congress under the leadership of Harry Nkumbula, a teacher. Kenneth Kaunda emerged two years later as the secretary-general of the party. 

 

As their advocacy against white rule intensified, Nkumbula became more emollient while Kaunda became radicalized. Following a split in the party, Kaunda emerged in 1958 as the factional leader of the Zambia African National Congress (ZANC). In March 1959, the party was banned  and Kaunda herded into jail. UNIP was formed from the ashes of the banned (ZANC) while Kaunda was in detention. Upon his release, Kaunda was installed leader of UNIP. In April 1961, Nkumbula was imprisoned for causing death by dangerous driving. By the time he emerged from jail in January 1962, Kaunda had eclipsed him politically.

Kaunda’s UNIP led the country to independence in 1964, with Harry Nkumbula as leader of the opposition. Following the December 1968 elections, however, speaker of the National Assembly, Robinson Nabulyato, declined to recognize Nkumbula’s ANC as the leader of the opposition claiming that the party could neither form a quorum nor execute the business of parliament or government. In doing this, Speaker Nabulyato channeled his party leader, President Kaunda who, mistaking himself for the country, had declared on the eve of Christmas in 1968: I cannot see how I can continue to pay a police officer or civil servant who works for Nkumbula…. How dare they bite the hand that feeds them? They must learn that it pays to belong to UNIP.”

As President Kaunda centralized power in and around himself, party management became more embittered into a contest between Zambia’s ethnic rivalries. In February 1972, with his most prominent political opponents detained, President Kaunda appointed a Commission to work out the modalities for a new constitution on the basis of single-party rule. 

 

The job of the Commission was not to inquire whether the country desired to be run on the basis of one-party rule. Kaunda had already decided that it would. The only issue was how to bring that about. Comprising 21 members, Kaunda tapped Mainza Chona, his loyal Vice-President, to chair the Commission. Harry Nkumbula, leader of the ANC, declined his nomination as a member of the Commission. Reflecting the skeptical mood of the country, a basic education teacher advised the Commission at one of its public hearings that “the National Assembly should be turned into flats, since there was a housing shortage in Lusaka (the capital city) and no need for parliament in a one-party state.”

In October 1972, the Mainza Chona Commission reported to President Kaunda. Shortly before receiving the report, Kaunda dismissed opponents of single party rule as “idiots and lost sheep”; told the public service that they existed “to serve the party in power”; and informed “the churches and the judiciary that their continued independence rested on being effective ‘mirror reflections’ of the nation”, which he subsumed in the ruling party. 

Things moved swiftly thereafter. One month after receiving the report, in November 1972, Kaunda issued his white paper on the recommendations of the Mainza Chona Commission. On 8 December 1972, Zambia’s National Assembly did something that observers of Godswill Akpabio’s 10th National Assembly will by now have grown used to: the parliament suspended their rules and standing orders and, in one swift afternoon session, passed three separate bills to amend the constitution, rushing each through first, second and third readings without debate or discussion. 

Four days later, the Court of Appeal perfunctorily dispensed with Harry Nkumbula’s legal challenge. The following day, Kaunda signed the bills into law heralding the arrival of Zambia’s second Republic as a single-party state. 

 

The new Constitution itself was not published until May 1973. The following month, on 27 June 1973, Harry Nkumbula entered into the so-called Choma Declaration, dissolving his ANC and announcing that he and the remaining members of Parliament from his party had joined Kaunda’s UNIP. His capitulation was complete as was Kaunda’s transformation into the autocrat that he dearly desired to be. Delta’s State’s Sheriff Oborevwori in Nigeria will be relieved to know that he is not without storied predecessors in the pantheon of political harlotry. 

Zambia was not the only country in which the judiciary acted as midwife to dismantling democratic pluralism and replacing it with a one-party autocracy. At its 1965-66 session, Sierra Leone’s parliament adopted a resolution asking the government to “give serious consideration to the introduction of a One Party System of government.” To implement this resolution, in April 1966, the government constituted a committee with the Orwellian mission to “collate and assess all views on the One Party System both in and out of Parliament and to make recommendations on the type of One Party System suitable for Sierra Leone.” 

Three months later, the government issued its White Paper on the recommendations of the Committee. On 3 January 1967, the Supreme Court of Sierra Leone buried the legal challenge to the process of converting the country into single-party rule under a rash of legal technicalities. Unknown to them, Sierra Leone’s descent into eventual conflict in the next generation had begun.

It is impossible to behold the orchestrated emptying of opposition political parties currently on-going in Nigeria without recalling these examples from sister African countries which presaged deeper descent into constitutional instability. The return of President Tinubu to the country after his extended Lenten retreat to the land of the Marian Apparition (in Lourdes) has coincided with a rush of politicians seeking to outdo one another in emptying the country of viable political parties. 

 

Ironically, President Tinubu himself represents the example of a politician who resisted this tendency. After President Obasanjo’s Peoples’ Democratic Party (PDP) stole nearly all of the south-west from his Alliance for Democracy (AD) in 2003, Tinubu, then the only surviving opposition governor in the region, refused to give in. It took him two decades of back-breaking rebuilding to work his way to the top of the political grease-pole in the country. As he embarks on his own transparent journey to a “one-party participatory democracy”, President Tinubu may wish to be reminded that of the major misfortunes in life, few are as ruinous as the tragedy of fulfilled desires.

A lawyer and a teacher, Odinkalu can be reached at chidi.odinkalu@tufts.edu 

The governor of Anambra state, Prof. Chukwuma Charles Soludo, applies the underlying principles of progressive welfarism as his strategic approach to governance. Progressive welfarism entails giving pride of place to the well-being and progress of the people as intrinsic values of a humane administration.

Fully defined, progressive welfarism combines progressive structures with a welfare state. It aims to redistribute wealth through taxation and social programmes, ensuring a higher standard of living for all, especially those with lower incomes. This approach seeks to create a society where everyone’s basic needs are met while generating revenue to fund public services like education, healthcare, and infrastructure, as Soludo, MI Okpara and Awolowo have done, as we will see shortly.

An example of progressive welfarism policy by Soludo was when, in late 2024, its government announced tax exemptions for Ndi Anambra, whose business capital was below N100,000 (One hundred thousand Naira). Soludo knows that no state or country can develop by taxing its citizens beyond their capacity to pay.

In the chequered political history of Nigeria, such progressive welfarist approaches to governance had been espoused by Dr Michael Iheonukara Okpara, the premier of the old Eastern Region, and Chief Obafemi Awolowo, the premier of the then Western Region in the First Republic. In the case of Dr Okpara, who was popularly hailed as MI Power, the focus was on agro policies and industrialisation, which made the Eastern Region of the First Republic to be rated as having the fastest-growing economy in the world in the 1960s following an international peer review, a feat that was botched by the Nigeria-Biafra war. Admirably, Governor Soludo is following Dr. Okpara’s cherished example in aggressively pushing ahead with his agro policies that will, of course, make Anambra State the primus inter pares in agriculture in the foreseeable future.

 

The other dimension of Governor Soludo’s progressive welfarism is replicating Chief Awolowo’s focus on free education, which has propelled the Western states to take leading positions in virtually all spheres of governance in today’s Nigeria. It is based on this ennobling background that one can see that the applauded inauguration of free, compulsory education from nursery to SS3 by Governor Soludo has institutionalised a progressive welfare state in Anambra State. Mr Governor has also instituted free antenatal care and child delivery up to caesarian sections for all pregnant women in the state with near-zero mortality. Indeed, women and children have never, ever had it so good in Anambra State.

Governor Soludo has lifted a heavy burden off the shoulders of the breadwinners of Anambra families, particularly through free education. Solution is now a way of life in Anambra state, justly lionised as the Light of the Nation.

In his drive toward a progressive welfare state, Soludo has put into full throttle, the Anambra Mixed-Use Industrial City (AMIC), a flagship infrastructure project aimed at accelerating industrialisation and economic development by focusing on enlarging industrial infrastructure. This will serve as the new industrial hub for Anambra and the Southeast.

 

It needs to be recalled that during the First Republic, the regional governments depended almost totally upon taxation to deliver development. For instance, the Eastern Region, under the exemplary leadership of Dr Okpara, built the cities of Onitsha, Owerri, Enugu, Aba, Calabar, Port Harcourt, Uyo, and Umuahia, etc., with taxes and the money generated locally from oil palm produce. The government was able to supply electricity and pipe-borne water all over the urban centres. It also established industrial corridors and built the University of Nigeria with three campuses, and so on, with taxes collected from peasant farmers.

The coming of the so-called oil boom in Nigeria after the civil war created a rentier culture that destroyed the incentives and institutions for taxation. Now the oil boom has turned to oil doom. States can no longer get adequate allocations from the federal purse in Nigeria’s accursed “feeding bottle federalism”.

Governor Soludo is taking the matter forward without borrowing a kobo from anywhere. He is providing needed infrastructure for the underserved and abandoned parts of Anambra State; for instance, building five brand new general hospitals in Anambra State where the greatest need exists.

Soludo is following the charge of Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe, the first President and Commander-in-Chief of Nigeria, who said, “Show the light and the people will find a way.” As Soludo is showing the light, what needs to follow in due course is for celebrated Anambra State personages of high net worth to follow the lead of Mr Governor’s welfare drive by undertaking public works such as the construction of roads and the building of schools and hospitals in their various communities. The buy-in from the great numbers of Anambra’s captains of industry scattered all over Nigeria and the world will instantly project the state in line with Governor Soludo’s plan of enacting the African-Dubai-Taiwan-Silicon Valley (ADTS) miracle in the homeland and make Anambra a destination and not a departure lounge.

 

As Leo-Stan Ekeh, the CEO of the trailblazing Zinox Computers, who is not from Anambra State, once said, “The wealth, energy and knowledge per square metre in Anambra do not exist in any other part of Africa.”

Anambra State is poised to turn from being a departure lounge to a destination point, as Governor Soludo has always propounded. The liveable and prosperous homeland planned by Governor Soludo will, in due course, become a reality before our very eyes. The dawn of Anambra as a welfare state is here.

Like MI Okpara, who focused on people-centred development and industrialisation, and Awolowo, who also focused on education in the Old Western Region, among other people-centred policies, Soludo is, through intentional and transgressive leadership, transforming Anambra into a welfare state.

Law Mefor, PhD , is the Anambra state commissioner for information

Let me start by saying I am not shallow…

The easiest and most attractive national pastime is buck-passing, especially with the bunch of leaders that we have, who can hardly peel a banana or wash an already white handkerchief. Not many of us want to take responsibility for anything, from personal to family or national life.

The blame is on the system. We do not need to create demons out of our leaders because they are already specimens of demons, so we hang our sins on them appropriately and inappropriately, too. And unfortunately, their behavior has made it easy for the critics to descend on them.

 

We, at most, talk, write, and discuss the Nigerian myth with a sense of fatalism. If everyone thought as much as I did about justice and fairness, life would be better. I am a critic, but I am also the critics’ critic, the unrepentant believer that the best way to keep the government on its toes is to keep harping on their flaws so they can improve.

Often, I say I believe the things I write about are as important for our nation as they are for other nations, but when it appears to me, Nigerians, especially those in authority, do not react to these issues as people in other lands do, I repeat them in new essays to remind old readers and recruit new ones to participate in the continuing dialogue.

So today, I address the real nonsense people…citizens, apologists, and crooks called politicians in Nigeria where nothing works and no one cares, when it works, it is because someone’s interest is about to be served or being served, not the people’s interest.

 

We talk about our institutions despairingly. Our leaders do not watch network news any longer except when their faces are there on the occasion of their sons/daughters’ weddings or such. They do not need the newspapers anymore because it is full of their lies, paid adverts, and the critics’ truth, the bitter truth.

Government bashing is a national issue, and every drinking joint and any suya spot has a sitting parliament with an expert on every and any issue, but we forget that no matter the input, if the politicians and actors in our national scene have questionable lives both on a personal and domestic level, nothing will change, the best government policy cannot change the individual. It is because the policies are formulated on a bad foundation and by people with warped thinking.

We do not need the government to teach us to stop treating ourselves like animals. Do we need the government to teach us that we demand responsible leadership and representation? Certainly not, we should know that and act in a fashion that depicts that we demand more than what we are getting.

So I’ll tell us a short story of my recent trip to Doha—In the heart of the Arabian Peninsula lies Doha, a city that has defied the limits of imagination. Over the past decade, Qatar has transformed from a quiet Gulf state into a global powerhouse, a metamorphosis symbolized by its glittering skyline, world-class infrastructure, and audacious ambition. Yet, this progress exists alongside persistent human rights critiques, particularly regarding migrant labor conditions. How did Qatar achieve so much so quickly? And why does Nigeria, a nation brimming with potential, remain trapped in a cycle of unfulfilled promises?

When Qatar won the bid to host the 2022 FIFA World Cup, skeptics questioned its capacity. A decade later, the world watched in awe as Doha unveiled state-of-the-art stadiums, a seamless metro system, and the architectural marvel that is Hamad International Airport. This airport, with its futuristic design, indoor gardens, and 40,000-square-meter retail space, is more than a transit hub—it’s a statement. Qatar invested over $200 billion in infrastructure, diversifying its economy beyond oil and gas into tourism, finance, and education.

Yet, this progress came at a cost. Reports of exploited migrant workers, restrictive labor laws, and censorship cast shadows over Qatar’s triumphs. However, the nation’s leadership demonstrated an unwavering vision: a willingness to spend, plan, and execute projects that transcended short-term politics. Qatar’s success lies not in perfection but in its ability to align resources, ambition, and global branding—flaws notwithstanding.

 

Nigeria, Africa’s largest economy and most populous nation, mirrors Qatar in potential. With vast oil reserves, a youthful population, and cultural influence, it could be a continental beacon. Yet, decades of corruption, inept governance, and infrastructural decay tell a different story.

Consider airports: While Hamad Airport symbolizes Qatar’s ambition, Nigeria’s airports—like Lagos’ Murtala Muhammed International—remain stuck in the 1970s, plagued by power outages, leaking roofs, and bureaucratic inertia. Qatar’s leaders see infrastructure as nation-building; Nigeria’s political class views it as a piggy bank. The $461 million Abuja CCTV contract, the Ajaokuta Steel Mill, and the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway delays are monuments to graft and incompetence.

The divergence stems from leadership and vision. Qatar’s monarchy, though autocratic, prioritizes legacy projects that outlive individual rulers. Nigeria’s leaders, however, are consumed by short-term gains—embezzling oil wealth, politicizing development, and weaponizing ethnicity. Qatar invests in education (Education City hosts branches of Georgetown and Northwestern); Nigeria’s universities languish through endless strikes. Qatar leverages its small population (2.7 million) for cohesive growth; Nigeria’s 220 million people endure fractured governance, where state allocations vanish into personal pockets.

 

Cultural attitudes also differ. Qatar maintains its infrastructure meticulously; Nigeria’s “maintenance culture” is an oxymoron. Stadiums built for the 2003 All Africa Games lie in ruins. Refineries do not work, despite billions spent on repairs. We celebrate “potential” as an anesthetic for failure.

As a Nigerian, this comparison stings. It’s not about Qatar’s wealth but its will. Nigeria has no excuse: Our oil reserves surpass Qatar’s, our diaspora excels globally, and our creativity dominates music and film. Yet, we falter where focus and integrity are required.

The problem isn’t resources—it’s accountability. Qatar’s World Cup spotlight forced labor reforms; Nigeria’s leaders face no such pressure. Citizens endure hardships while elites stash billions abroad. Our institutions, from the judiciary to the police, prioritize patronage over service.

 

Qatar’s story proves that transformation is possible with vision and sacrifice. Nigeria’s redemption requires a leadership revolution—not just in government but in civic responsibility. We must demand transparency, punish corruption, and invest in human capital.

The Hamad Airport wasn’t built by magic but by intentionality. Nigeria can rise, but only when we confront our demons: greed, tribalism, and apathy. The world saw Qatar’s ambition; it’s time to show them ours. As hurt as I am, I still believe—because Nigeria’s greatest resource isn’t oil. It’s her people. And our story isn’t over yet.

The critic’s anthem would be my end to this essay; it has always inspired me by H.G. Wells: “We are going to write about it all. We are going to write about business and finance and politics and pretenses and pretentiousness, and decorum and indecorum until a thousand pretenses and ten thousand impostors shrivel in the cold, …we are going to write about wasted opportunities and latent beauties, until a thousand new ways of life open to men and women. We are going to appeal to the young, and the hopeful, and the curious against—the established, the dignified, and the defensive…”

 

I will write about the nonsense in my society, once in a while, when I see good things, I will write about them, but I will not let an opportunity pass to address the real nonsense people so that they know that people are not happy, so that they come down from their hypocritical high horses, so they have the scales in their eyes removed; par adventure they can change, if only that we can have a true people’s revolution to get rid of the nonsense in our society

Qatar has done loads of things right, but one thing it cannot do; is make Nigeria do right, if it will happen—Only time will tell.

Nigeria’s political arena has always been a dynamic and often contentious space, where parties employ diverse strategies to outmaneuver opponents. However, recent trends indicate a troubling shift in tactics by the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC), which appears to be leveraging financial incentives to coerce key figures from the opposition Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) into defecting. While cross-party movements are not inherently undemocratic, the overt use of monetary inducements to engineer such defections raises profound ethical and systemic concerns. This practice not only undermines the ideological foundations of political competition but also weakens opposition structures, fostering a transactional political culture that prioritizes personal enrichment over public service.

The frequency of high-profile PDP members defecting to the APC has become impossible to ignore. Former governors, senators, and influential party leaders have abandoned their political affiliations, often citing nebulous justifications such as “national unity” or “progressive alignment.” Yet, credible reports suggest that many of these defections follow discreet negotiations involving substantial financial rewards, promises of political appointments, or immunity from accountability processes. For example, the abrupt defection of a sitting PDP governor to the APC last year was widely perceived as the outcome of behind-the-scenes negotiations involving federal concessions and personal financial benefits. Likewise, the sudden migration of several National Assembly members from the PDP to the APC has fueled suspicions of prearranged financial incentives rather than genuine ideological realignment.

This trend poses a significant threat to the integrity of Nigeria’s democracy. A functional democratic system relies on robust ideological competition, where differing policy visions are debated and scrutinized. When politicians switch allegiances primarily for monetary gain, politics degenerates into a mercenary enterprise where principles are secondary to patronage. The APC and PDP, despite their shortcomings, have historically represented distinct governance approaches. The erosion of these distinctions through financially motivated defections leaves voters with increasingly hollow choices, diminishing the substance of electoral politics.

 

Moreover, the deliberate weakening of the opposition undermines a fundamental pillar of democracy: accountability. A strong opposition is essential to check governmental excesses and ensure balanced governance. By systematically absorbing PDP figures through financial enticements, the APC is effectively neutralizing dissent and creating an uneven political landscape. This tactic risks entrenching a de facto one-party dominance, where electoral contests become mere formalities rather than genuine contests of ideas.

Beyond distorting political competition, this trend normalizes corruption and erodes public trust. When politicians are openly rewarded for abandoning their parties, it reinforces the perception that politics is a lucrative enterprise rather than a public service. Citizens grow increasingly disillusioned as they witness their representatives prioritizing personal gain over constituency representation. The resulting cynicism fosters voter apathy, weakening democratic participation and civic engagement.

The APC’s motivations for pursuing this strategy are clear. By dismantling the opposition’s structural integrity, the party aims to consolidate power ahead of future elections, ensuring minimal resistance to its agenda. Additionally, co-opting opposition figures allows the APC to control political narratives and suppress dissent, further insulating itself from criticism. Rather than addressing pressing national challenges, the party appears more focused on political engineering, diverting attention from governance failures.

 

Addressing this issue requires urgent and multifaceted interventions. Strengthening anti-defection laws to impose stricter penalties on unjustified cross-carpeting would deter opportunistic defections. Enhanced financial transparency measures, including rigorous scrutiny of party funding and expenditures, could expose illicit inducements. Civil society and the media must also play a more assertive role in holding defectors accountable, ensuring public awareness of the ethical breaches involved.

Ultimately, the normalization of financial inducements in political defections represents a corrosive force in Nigeria’s democracy. If left unchecked, it risks entrenching a system where power is maintained not through genuine public endorsement but through financial coercion and elite bargaining. Nigerians must demand a higher standard of political conduct—one where loyalty to principles outweighs loyalty to personal gain. The future of the nation’s democracy depends on it.

The world came together on a warm April morning in Rome. Under Bernini’s wide colonnade, a simple wooden coffin lay, almost shy against the grand marble of St. Peter’s. It held the body of Jorge Mario Bergoglio, better known as Pope Francis; it also carried a final message, passed without words. As I watched the funeral, I wondered if the message would be clear to leaders in places where leadership is often about show instead of service. Nigeria, my country, came to mind, because its people long for leaders who serve with humility rather than rule with power.

At first glance, comparing a pope to political leaders might seem unconventional, but important commonalities exist. Upon reflection, parallels are audacious: a Catholic pontiff and a republic’s president inhabit very different orbits. Yet both preside over institutions that store immeasurable wealth-monetary, cultural, spiritual, and both command loyalties that can bless or wound the human spirit. The difference lies in the currency they spend. Francis traded almost exclusively in moral capital. His motorcade rarely stretched beyond a small Fiat. He lived in a guesthouse, took meals in a communal dining hall, and instructed that his funeral expenses be redirected to shelters for people experiencing homelessness.  

In stark contrast, many political leaders, notably in Nigeria, have consolidated power through patronage, wealth accumulation, and coercion, severely damaging their credibility and the public’s trust. Nigerian power, by contrast, is often measured in sirens, convoys, and security votes, in the distance a public office holder can place between themselves and the exhaust of everyday life. The funeral invited a radical thought: what if legitimacy flowed from humility, not from the choreography of importance? This stress on the importance of humility in leadership could enlighten and provoke reflection on governance. 

Humility, though, is not a mannerism. It is a decision made daily, a refusal to situate oneself above the collective story. Francis’ last request, “bury me outside the Vatican walls”, was a slight tectonic shift, the first such break with tradition in over a century. It told pilgrims and presidents alike that holiness is not the property of marble tombs but of living deeds. Pope Francis was buried in a simple wooden coffin instead of the traditional three-nested casket, symbolising a life dedicated to humility and service. This act is probably the first of its kind in papacy history. This powerful statement of reform and decentralisation challenged entrenched traditions that maintain privilege. 

Nigerian leaders, accustomed to the trappings of power and privilege, could profoundly benefit from embracing servant-leadership that prioritises citizens’ welfare above personal gain. Imagine for a moment a Nigerian governor choosing to sleep occasionally in the wards of a rural clinic that lacks electricity, a senator commuting without escorts, or a budget speech opened with an apology to those whose dreams are still postponed. Such gestures, inspired by Pope Francis’ humility, would earn ridicule from cynics trained by years of theatrical piety, yet they might also crack the granite of distrust that politics has laid around the citizen’s heart.

Throughout his papacy, Francis consistently demonstrated simplicity, living modestly, rejecting extravagance, and continuously expressing empathy for ordinary people. For Nigerian political leaders, adopting similar modesty could substantially enhance their legitimacy, distancing them from the extravagant lifestyles that alienate them from the realities of the people they govern. By following Pope Francis’ example, Nigerian leaders could bridge the gap between themselves and the citizens they serve, fostering a deeper connection and understanding. 

The scenes in Rome offered other lessons as subtle as incense. Refugees and cardinals knelt side by side; presidents exchanged the sign of peace; atheists joined murmured prayers. I thought of the Plateau and Benue, of plains made fertile by rivers and yet stained by cycles of reprisal killings, each side armed with grievances as old as maps. If a pope’s funeral could fold the devout and the doubtful into the same silence, perhaps state ceremonies in Nigeria could be reimagined as platforms for reconciliation rather than patronage. Symbols matter because they reach the imagination before the policy can touch the pocket. A wooden coffin whispered more convincingly than any communiqué on inclusive governance ever could.

None of this is to canonise a man in hindsight; Francis was criticised, resisted, and sometimes misunderstood. Reform always bruises the edges of comfort. But in death, he achieved what many living leaders rarely managed: he convinced opposing camps to pause their quarrels long enough to say, “Thank you, Father.” The applause that rippled through St  Peter’s Square did not celebrate power captured; it celebrated power surrendered. How extraordinary and disconcerting to think that the shortest route to influence might be the surrender of privilege. 

I wish to reference  the testimony of Vinod Sekar, the Hindu philanthropist who once described being in the presence of “someone relentlessly good” pointing  to Pope Francis. Sekar confessed that holiness ceased to be a place, temple, mosque, or cathedral, and became instead a verb: to shelter, to include, to feed. Nigeria’s streets are crowded with worship houses, yet the mood often tastes of scarcity- scarcity of trust, of light, of potable water, of the belief that tomorrow might be gentler than today. What if holiness were measured not by the decibels of our prayers but by the quality of our public schools and hospitals ? What if fiscal policy became a beatitude, not just a technical tool or to score cheap political point  but a source of broad social good?

Authentic goodness, the kind that disarms calculation, cannot be legislated; it must be modelled. Leaders who publish their asset declaration unprompted, reject grandiose titles, and break bread with market women without cameras in tow begin to tilt the atmosphere. And atmospheres are contagious. When a pope chooses simplicity, bishops take notice; when a governor chooses public transport, commissioners start to wonder whether the show of might is worth its cost. A single act does not topple corruption, but it can short-circuit the logic that sustains it.

Critics will argue that symbolism is cheap and that coffins and cassocks cannot patch roads or fund hospitals. They are right, unless the symbol changes the story, and the story changes the budget. A nation cannot legislate self respect into its citizens while its leaders accumulate properties in distant capitals. Neither can it ask for sacrifice while official lips sip champagne at state banquets. The funeral in Rome stubbornly insisted that credibility is the one commodity no treasury can purchase; it must be earned in increments of integrity. 

As I write, the image of that lone coffin lingers, framed by sunlight and the tear-streaked faces of strangers who felt seen by a man in white. Power looked strangely like the vulnerability that morning, and history tilted, not dramatically, but perceptibly, toward the possibility that public office might again be synonymous with public service. I imagine a version of that morning unfolding on Abuja’s Eagle Square: no imported SUVs, no choreography of arrival times to signal rank, only leaders standing shoulder to shoulder with nurses, farmers, students, and the internally displaced. I imagine a moment when applause signals not relief that the ceremony is over but gratitude that the example is true. Perhaps that is naïve. Yet every durable reform was once a naïveté stubborn enough to outlive its ridicule.

The cypress boards of Francis’ coffin will one day fade, but the memory of his choices will migrate from anecdote to folklore, from folklore to benchmark. Nigeria, a country whose anthem pleads to “build a nation where peace and justice shall reign”, needs new benchmarks more urgently than new oil blocks. It requires the quiet scandal of servant leadership to make corruption look as outdated as a triple-nested casket. Nigerian leaders should embrace key principles drawn from Pope Francis’ life and funeral rites: humility that transforms rulers into servant-leaders; real and courageous reforms dismantling corruption; moral authority grounded in integrity and humility; inclusivity that fosters unity across ethnic and religious divides; and a legacy defined by public trust rather than accumulated wealth.

Ultimately, Pope Francis’ funeral provided a profound narrative on leadership that Nigerian political figures must internalise. By embodying these principles, they can cultivate a governance system rooted in moral authority, transparency, and service, genuinely transforming their nation and securing a legacy that endures beyond wealth or power. I end where I began, in the quiet of that Roman square, listening to chants swell like a rising tide, watching a coffin slip into the basilica, and feeling the strange comfort of a paradox: the smaller the ego, the wider the circle of souls who find shelter beneath its shade. This truth, more than any doctrine, is the gospel political leadership must embrace if it hopes to bury an age of hollow grandeur and awaken a season of genuine hope.

This column congratulates our boy and younger acolyte, Seye Kehinde, on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday.

Yours sincerely missed all the celebrations and the epic quaffing but will surely be back to share some of the usual liquid elixir with the celebrant.

Serious and scholarly undergraduate with an affable well-bred mien, guerrilla journalist and fabled editor of the famous anti-military magazine known as Tempo and latterly publisher of City People, the topnotch society broadsheet, Seye has come a very long way indeed.

Snooper remembers a pleasant-looking youth from the mid-eighties who usually sauntered into the office at the then University of Ife to read the latest copy of Newswatch magazine.

Even though he was not directly a student of yours sincerely as he was reading International Relations, it was very easy to add him to an ever growing list of mentees who could swear by yours sincerely.

Almost to no exception, they were young, brilliant and socially engaged. Seye was to make a seamless transition to the world of Nigerian journalism after graduation.

This was when events conspired to throw him into the crucible of the struggle against military tyranny and despotism which peaked with the annulment of the freest and fairest election in the history of the nation.

Seye acquitted himself with uncommon bravery and valour. Nigeria is yet to properly honour the true heroes of the democracy we are all enjoying.

We leave with two stories which reveal the depth of Seye’s sense of humour and daring. After a visit to a top notch general during the Abacha inquisition, Seye told the infantry supremo that he was coming to see yours sincerely whereupon the general expressed surprise saying that he thought all along that the name was a pen name because he believed nobody in his right senses would be writing such inflammatory stuff.

When Seye confirmed that the name was for real, the general quickly eased him out of his house with the parting shot that the nation was teeming with mad people: “Awon asiwere po nilu yi!” On another occasion, Seye was arrested by a policeman on patrol in the dead of the night around the Oshodi loop as he was coming from the hideout where Tempo was being printed. Unable to pin anything on him, the cop was about to release him when he noticed a huge stack hidden under the carpet.

It was the latest, freshly minted edition of the proscribed Tempo. The cop knelt by the keel to loudly thank God for giving him his own breakthrough. Negotiations ensued and they settled for hefty sum.

The snag was that Seye had no dime on him. Foolishly, the policeman agreed to follow him on a begging spree around all surrounding neighborhoods until Seye could retire his obligation.

They were still on this when dawn broke and some irate residents raised an alarm about a thief and the cop fled. Such was the surreal nature of life under military tyranny that we must pray the nation never revert to another.

Happy birthday, Seye.

 

 

Three years ago, Governor Chukwuma Charles Soludo, CFR, laid a visionary foundation, one shaped by discipline, service, and strategic investment. He promised a homeland that would evolve into the African Dubai-Taiwan-Silicon Valley. 

Today, that promise has transformed into palpable progress. But the Soludo story is not stopping or resting on its oars. It is shifting from gear to gear, powering transformational development and growth 

As the first lap concludes, a new phase begins, a phase of bold acceleration, deeper transformation, and the crystallisation of Anambra’s destiny.

Governor Soludo’s next chapter is built around scale and sustainability. Three new smart cities, namely Awka 2.0, Next Onitsha, and the Anambra Mixed-Use Industrial City (AMIC), are poised to redefine urban living in Nigeria.

Awka 2.0 is envisioned as Africa’s first truly smart and green city, where AI, renewable energy, and clean mobility meet seamless governance.  

Next Onitsha will emerge as a commercial, logistics, and retail powerhouse, complete with Africa’s largest shopping mall, revitalising the region’s historical trade legacy.  

AMIC, already underway, will fast-track the state’s journey into an export-oriented, manufacturing-led economy.

This urban trilogy is the architectural signature of a state in turbo-mode, expanding beyond today’s limits into tomorrow’s potential.

Governor Soludo’s next phase includes a comprehensive Oncology Centre, Anambra’s answer to Nigeria’s growing cancer burden. This will complement the telemedicine backbone already in place, ensuring that quality healthcare reaches not just cities but the most remote wards.

Every resident, no matter where they live, will have real-time digital access to medical consultations. Health emergencies will meet smart responses. Rural births will receive world-class care. Governor Soludo’s health vision is radical in its simplicity: every life must count.

The Solution Innovation District (SID) will scale its operations with the One Million Digital Tribe Initiative, a plan to equip one million Ndi Anambra, especially youth, with the tools, training, and opportunities to thrive in a global tech economy. 

The state is deploying over 2,000 km of fiber-optic cable, opening up high-speed internet access to every LGA. Startups will flourish, creators will innovate, and jobs will be created not by government handouts but by tech-enabled ingenuity.

Add to this is the coming Anambra Smart Education Ecosystem, including a new University of Education, a Smart College of Nursing, and leadership finishing schools, and you begin to see the complete human capital pipeline Governor Soludo is engineering, from classroom to a productive career, from village to virtual. No one is left behind 

The next frontier is connected, mobile, and efficient. The Anambra Transport Masterplan will deliver a state rail network, linking major commercial centres, dualisation of more Trunk A highways across the state, a modern mass transit system, combining BRTs, water transport, and digital ticketing. This is all about productivity, ease, and environmental responsibility.

Also, Governor Soludo is set to unlock Anambra’s untapped tourism goldmines, projects that will merge heritage with hospitality. This means that Ogbunike Caves, Owerre-Ezukala Waterfalls, and Agulu Lake will be developed into world-class eco-tourism destinations with supporting infrastructure, security, and luxury accommodations. 

The Marriott Hotel in Awka, with the groundwork on-going, will anchor a new era of business and leisure tourism in the state. Culture, once an afterthought, will become commerce. The way of life of the people will be projected respectfully and sustainably.

Governor Soludo’s next chapter further focuses on food security and climate-smart agriculture. The vision includes Smart farms across zones, using tech to monitor yield, irrigation, and soil health; A central Agro-Processing and Export Hub, linked to the AMIC; Scaling of the coconut and oil palm revolution, targeting economic self-reliance at the household level; and A reactivated Ifite-Ogwari irrigation infrastructure enabling 2-3 rice cycles annually, potentially turning Anambra into a regional rice powerhouse.

To ensure that no student is left behind, a comprehensive Anambra Students’ Bursary Scheme will be launched. Targeted at indigent but brilliant students, this programme will remove financial barriers to higher education, complementing the ongoing free basic and secondary education policy of the government. This is Governor Soludo’s philosophy in action: equal opportunity, not equal outcome, empowering merit and enabling dreams.

So far, Governor Soludo’s three-year track record has silenced doubters and inspired believers. But what is coming next is even more compelling. It is a future where digital connectivity meets social equity, where health is accessible, roads are navigable, cities are livable, and the environment is breathable. It is a future where transformation is not measured by applause, but by impact; and where Anambra, once a departure lounge, becomes the dream destination. Acceleration mode is now activated.

I have taken liberties to somewhat adapt the title of the prophetic poem, Come Thunder, written by Christopher Okigbo, one of Nigeria’s most talented first generation poets, as title of this piece. Okigbo, a contemporary of the Chinua Achebes, Wole Soyinkas, John Pepper Bekederemo-Clarks, wrote the highly prophetic poem at the time, which was concretely validated by latter day developments. Okigbo’s piece of art, undertook a dispassionate view of Nigeria’s sociopolitical turmoil at the time and predicted a rancourous denouement. Lightning and thunder, two fearsome, natural phenomena famous for leaving trails of blood, death and destruction, Okigbo predicted, would characterise the coming Tsunami. Okigbo had barely dropped his pen after writing Come Thunder, than Nigeria degenerated into fractious civil war. This was triggered by the resolve of the country’s contemporary South East and adjoining territories, to secede from the country. The larger Nigeria would also not subscribe to such a move. The secessionists had indeed christened the territory they desired to appropriate, as the Republic of Biafra. That strife validated Okigbo’s clairvoyance to the very letter. A zealous Okigbo enlisted to fight on the side of Biafra wherein lay his birthplace and homeland. Sadly, he died in battle in the same 1967 when he wrote Come Thunder.

No election, since I became a politically conscious Nigerian adult, has been as frenzied and talked about as the forthcoming 2027 presidential election. Yes it is almost two years away but the “flag-off,” that is bringing it to the front burner of fervid public conversation, was instantiated just months into the life of the Bola Tinubu presidency. A thanksgiving service held in honour of Barry Mpigi, Senator representing Rivers South East in February 2024, nine months into the administration of President Bola Tinubu, was the forum where the subject was first broached. Armed with a job and an address as reward for undermining his bona-fide political party, the Peoples Democratic Party, (PDP), in the 2023 presidential election, Nyesom Wike the truculent overseer of the Federal Capital Territory Administration, (FCTA), blew the bugle at the event. Those who know Wike very well, know that he suffers the “microphone disease.” It is an affliction manifested in the inability of microphone-wielders to simply be pointed and laconic. They over-reach themselves and veer off the course of the subject of immediate concern.

President of the Senate, Godswill Akpabio who was also at the thanksgiving used the opportunity to canvas for the election of an Ogoni governor in the 2027 polls. This, he observed, is necessary to acknowledge the place of the Ogoni nationality in the nation’s socioeconomic life. Once he got a grip of the microphone, however, Wike alluded to his privileged position as a member of the PDP serving in a government led by the All Progressives Congress, (APC), as availing him the opportunity to get both sides to return Tinubu in 2027. “See as we are today,” Wike blurted. “If we all come together, who can defeat us in 2027? Nobody,” he answered himself. A video clip which trended on the social media last year, showed Wike singing and marching to the now famous Tinubu anthem, “On Your Mandate We Shall Stand,” in the office of the Chief of Staff to the President, Femi Gbajabiamila. Ever since, the talk of Tinubu’s reelection in 2027, has dominated national discourse.

Major APC bigwigs notably the party’s national chairman, Abdullahi Ganduje and the Secretary to the Government of the Federation, (SGF), George Akume, have intoned at various fora, that “there’s no vacancy in Aso Villa, come 2027.” Governor of Akwa Ibom State, Umo Eno, declared at the flag-off of the segment of the Lagos- Calabar super highway, that he and his constituents would support “Baba,” in reference to Tinubu, for a second term. Days after, Delta State Governor, Sheriff Oborevwori, his predecessor, Ifeanyi Arthur Okowa, and the entire PDP pyramid in the state, defected to the APC, all in a calculated move to back Tinubu’s second term. Such is the fever-pitch craze to determine the 2027 presidential election, two clear years before the expiration of his subsisting tenancy in the State House.

 

Nigeria, meanwhile, has transmogrified into a sprawling landmass of ungoverned spaces, a testament to the near absence of conscientious administration. Whereas the Boko Haram scourge which has festered in the nation’s North East was the deadliest security scourge, new terrorist groups have taken position in other parts of the country. The Lakurawa, an armed group reportedly affiliated with extremist organisations operating in the Sahel region, especially in Mali and Niger, have made incursions into the North West, notably in Sokoto and Kebbi states. A previously little-known Mahmuda group is digging in in Nigeria’s North Central, notably in Niger and Kwara states. Borgu local government area in Niger, and Kaiama and Baruten local government areas in Kwara, have been the worst afflicted in recent weeks. About two dozen people were recently killed by members of the sect, around the Kainji Lake National Park area in Kwara State.

Plateau and Benue states, also in Nigeria’s North Central, have lost no less than 350 people in recent attacks by marauding herdsmen and cold-blooded criminals. Benue alone is estimated to have lost at least 250 people. The calibre of weapons and ammunitions deployed in these attacks transcend familiar armaments as deciphered from the profiles of expended shells found at various theatres of ruination. Whole communities have been sacked in instances by these terrorists, their lives and affairs disrupted. The populations seeking refuge in inconvenient camps for internally displaced persons, (IDPs), in Benue for instance, continue to swell. The hitherto recessed and serene Bunu district in Kabba-Bunu/Ijumu federal constituency has been at the receiving end of the antics of criminal voyeurs who abduct, attack and maim innocent rural folk. Pressures by well-meaning constituents of the area has gingered the Nigerian Army’s recent approval of a Forward Operating Base, (FOB), to be stationed in the area to secure lives and property.

A far-sighted Sunday Karimi, the Senator representing Kogi West zone had last October, delivered a fully built and kitted FOB in Egbe, Yagba West local government area, to the military to help deploy in the containment of insecurity in that part of the state. A recent report by The Sun newspapers suggests that almost 600 people have been massacred by herdsmen, bandits and free-style killers within the last six months. The report indeed captures figures of casualties in Nasarawa, which is put at over 100, and Kogi states, where about 60 lives have been wasted. Both states complete the six in the the North Central which effectively surmises that the whole of the zone is at the mercy of criminal bloodhounds.

 

Sadly, in several instances, the nation’s military, intelligence and security forces have been blamed for their laissez-faire attitude in nipping internal security threats in the bud. The military high command has indeed been fingered in instances, for the unnecessary politicisation of personnel deployment at the various theatres of operation. One often cited example is the recall, years ago, of Anthony Mayowa Atolagbe, a highly professional Major General who was erstwhile Field Commander of the Joint Task Force, (CJTF), overseeing the Operation Safe Haven. Atolagbe, a veteran of international military operations, very ably led an uncanny amalgam of land, maritime and air forces, as well as police, civil defence and prison personnel on the frontlines of Plateau, Kaduna and Niger states. Atolagbe’s ruthless efficiency was said to have angered certain interests who subtly canvassed his recall and redeployment. This was at a time he was on the verge of total clearance of troubled territories under his command.

Notable figures in Nigeria’s military and intelligence ecosystem have repeatedly admonished Nigerians to rise up to defend themselves. Theophilus Yakubu Danjuma, a former Chief of Army Staff, (COAS) and Defence Minister respectively, speaking at the convocation ceremony of the Taraba State University in Jalingo in 2018, advised his kinsmen to rise up in self defence. The Nigerian state, he warned, is incapable of guaranteeing the security of its citizens. Days ago at an event in Takum his hometown also in Taraba State, Danjuma re-echoed his advisory of seven years ago. Nigeria’s longest-serving President of the Senate thus far who is also a retired Army General, David Alechenu Mark, recently challenged Nigerians to rise up to be counted in the fight against banditry, kidnapping and killings. He was reacting to recent incidents of unprovoked attacks of his constituents by faceless gunmen. Mark, by the way was a military governor and minister respectively, under Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida, an Army General, during Nigeria’s years of military rulership.

Minority Leader of the Senate and successor to Mark, Patrick Abba Moro equally opined recently, that locals in places may be compelled to recourse to self-help in the face of government’s powerlessness in protecting lives and property. Adeola Oluwatosin Ajayi, Director-General of the Department of State Services, (DSS), said as much at a recent lecture hosted by the Institute for Security Studies, (ISS), Abuja. He alluded to his entreaties to his kinsmen back home in Ogun State, to do their bit in self-protection and not to be wholly dependent on government. Such is the despairing reality of the security situation across the country. All of these are happening when Nigeria’s leaders at various levels of the governance pyramid, have appropriated sizeable proportions of security personnel to themselves for their personal protection, the mass of the people abandoned to their whims.

One cannot but feel nostalgic about those years when governance was serious business, even in a multiparty democracy. President Olusegun Obasanjo never discussed his desire to run for a second term until three years into his first term. Indeed, as many political appointees as desired to vie for elective office, Obasanjo approved of their prompt disengagement from their briefs. He forbade the impairment of governance by the political distractions among his aides. That prototype of administrative discipline has since been lost to the overarching selfishness, vandalistic consumptiveness, voluptuous avarice and competitive nepotism of the contemporary political class. Politics has effectively been professionalised in Nigeria. Nyesom Wike, would in 2027, for instance, have grossed 28 years of active “political service” at the expense of taxpayer’s monies, starting from his days as chairman of Obio-Akpor local government area in Rivers State at the onset of the Fourth Republic in 1999.

 

Left to a Wike, the Independent National Electoral Commission, (INEC), should by now have written, signed and presented the Certificate of Return, (C-of-R) for the 2027 presidential election to his Principal. He is that obsessed, restless and impatient, bothering on delirium, about this subject. Let’s hope 2027 doesn’t come with cataclysmic accompaniments like Okigbo’s Come Thunder, with the way that all-important year is being courted and beckoned upon by preemptive agents of state. They seem totally oblivious of the fact that they are unwittingly stoking the flames and fires of future mammoth conflagration, courtesy of their actions and inactions today. They play God by their boastful arrogance and haughty utterances. Please come quick, 2027.

Olusunle, PhD, Fellow of the Association of Nigerian Authors, (FANA), teaches Creative Writing at the University of Abuja

Two events in the past two weeks refreshed Nigeria’s national question and the extent of it’s geo – political implications. These occurrences relate to the selective character of past and current system engagement. By assuming the weight of trends rather than mere incidents, the developments signpost the deep contradictions of our federation project.

With specific reference to the southeast, the gaps between the present federal government’s rhetoric and action reveal an unwillingness to pursue an inclusive framework.

Nigerians recently woke to the alarm that youths from the five southeast states were abandoning the opportunity to enlist into the army. The widely publicised concern was raised by authorities of the Nigerian army in the course of the 2025 recruitment exercise. The disinterest is said to have assumed a worsening trend in recent years. According to Daily Trust’s report (April 14, 2025), leader of the 2025 Army Recruitment Enlightenment Team, Chima Ekeator, a brigadier-general, observed that in the last few years, youths from the zone have kept shunning their slots.

 

“Kaduna State recorded over 3,000 applications in the ongoing 2025 recruitment exercise while Enugu State was still struggling to get 100 applicants. Enugu State was given about 200 slots, but the people who made it were never up to 100 due to poor application. This has also become a recurring decimal in other states in the South East.” Lending credence to the observation, Enugu State Commissioner for Youths and Sports Development, Barr. Lloyd Ekweremadu, “regretted that the problem had persisted despite the collective efforts to reverse the trend and called for a review of modes of advertising the opportunities and the need to provide more details about the benefits of serving in the army.”

Nigerian Tribune of April 10, 2025 reported that while in Abia State, the enlistment team spokesman lamented that ‘the region is losing out during recruitment exercises, citing an example from last year when Abia State was allocated nearly 200 slots, but only 53 were taken up. He added that similar situations were observed in other Southeastern states.’

The unfolding scenario is definitely worrisome. Alienation of any part in an organisation inevitably leads to dysfunction. It’s effect on a State’s security architecture, as the saying goes, should be better imagined than experienced. We commend the army for being sensitive to the situation. It’s to the credit of Nigerian army leadership that it is according this potential flashpoint serious attention. Assurances of complementing ongoing sensitisation with other remedial measures are welcome. Since the situation appears to be peculiar to the southeast, the army will do well to feel the pulse in the region as it seeks solutions. The enquiry should go beyond the stereotype that disinterest in military service is as a result of IPOB’s counter campaign. There are other ideas associated with the growing boycott which either predate the IPOB or have been shaped by specific experiences.

A southeast affirmation policy was naturally expected in the aftermath of the civil war. The depletion of Igbo ranks in the military rather than spur an adjustment plan, propelled a dismissive approach to the zone. In this put – down strategy, the southeast was almost totally ignored in the siting of military – industrial complexes. Officers from the region bore the brunt of erosion of professionalism and military discipline. Whereas a Shehu Musa Yardua could receive double promotion from lieutenant colonel to brigadier to fit in as chief of general staff, supreme headquarters, an Ebitu Ukiwe, did not deserve a slight push from naval commodore to rear admiral, to shut off those breathing down his neck as chief of general staff. I know three retired military officers from the southeast who were of NDA,1983, 35th regular course. One was retired as army captain; another as lieutenant colonel and the third as navy captain. Their premature disengagement was attributed to their not having godfathers. Then, relate the treatment to the feeling that a greater disproportion of soldiers of southeast origin are tasked with anti terrorism operations in the north. But the big morale killer is the perception that before long, captured insurgents are declared repentant and set free.

Yet, the army’s initiative to regain acceptance in this part of the country is laudable. But to bear fruit, the initiative must look at the broad picture. Preliminary findings point to systemic, rather than compartmentalized problem. As an institution, the army cannot be the only agency of government grappling with social alienation. The difference seems to be that while the army admits of it’s challenges, other spheres tend to ignore the system defect.
And this leads us to the second contrary event mentioned in the opening paragraph. The media reported the shocking story of inauguration of presidential committee on census and housing on April 17, 2025, without representation from the southeast and southsouth zones. Of the seven man committee, five members are from the southwest and one each from the northwest and north central. The outrage following this divisive step is suitably captured in the statement by Otu Oka – Iwu, the apex body of Igbo lawyers. From The Punch edition, (April 22, 2025) the lawyers declared: “This is not just an omission. This is a clear and calculated act of marginalisation, one that reinforces the entrenched and widening pattern of exclusion and systemic discrimination against the Igbo people and our neighbours in the south south region.” For the avoidance of doubt, the release tackles the diversionary defence of technocracy. “A national census is not a technical exercise, it is political, economic, social and cultural. It determines representation in government, allocation of resources…It defines who counts and who is counted.” And beyond a few murmurs about the composition’s link to portfolios held, the federal government has maintained embarrassing silence on the subject. In any case, the plea of office – determined selection is not exonerating. The concentration of sectoral offices in one or two zones is deplorable.

Denial of due measures to the Igbo constituency had been on the ascent since 1970. But while the injustices of the past cannot be shifted to the present government, she is to be held to account for the inequitable treatment of groups since it’s assumption of power. On at least two occasions now, functionaries of the government have come forth with what was certified as distribution of appointments by the administration. The purpose behind the authentication was to disprove the impression that the southwest was dominating positions in government. First of the records, released in November 2024 was restricted to military/ paramilitary appointments while the schedule unveiled March 2025 extended to other political appointments. The revelation from the fact – checks was indicting nevertheless. While the lists did not catapult the southwest to overall first position, they showed brazen favouritism by the lopsided allocations to the region. What stopped the southwest from dethroning the northwest were the inherited fixtures from Buhari’s provincialism. But even as this provided a cover for current self indulgence, it did not hide the demotion of the southeast and southsouth. Out of 20 security positions, the northwest had 8; southwest took 5 and the two inconsequential zones of the south got 1 each. In the expanded list of appointments, the southwest had 29 slots; northwest 36; southsouth 22; and southeast 16! The ferocity and consistency of the discrimination against the southeast is such that will affect the psyche of the people in the region. This is the reality the army must contend with as it tries to engage the population on military service. It will be rewarding if the army and indeed other agencies of government will reorientate towards inclusivity and fairness. That will be a win – win for Nigeria and the zone. To fail in this task will translate to public relations for enemies of a united Nigeria.

It is no more news that in a scathing revelation that raises serious concerns about the future of Nigeria’s democracy that former presidential adviser and ex-lawmaker Dr. Usman Bugaje has accused the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) of using financial inducements to lure key figures from the PDP. Speaking on Arise TV, Bugaje warned that the blatant monetization of politics poses a grave threat to democratic values in the country. If his claims are true, Nigeria’s democracy may be on a dangerous path.

Without a doubt, if Dr. Usman Bugaje’s allegation is anything to go by, and there is every reason not to dismiss it as a mere political rant, then what the APC is doing is no less than striking at the very heart of Nigeria’s democracy. The former House of Representatives member and ex-presidential adviser did not mince words when he said that the APC is buying off members of the opposition Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) with money. If this is the truth, then democracy as we know it in Nigeria is fast becoming an expensive joke, a dark comedy directed by the highest bidder.

Let us start by acknowledging that Dr. Bugaje is not a political lightweight. His decades of experience and closeness to the corridors of power lend his statements significant credibility. So when he claims that defectors from PDP to APC are being enticed not by ideology, policy alignment, or a sudden epiphany about APC’s competence, but simply by raw cash and threats of prosecution, Nigerians must sit up and ask themselves: What exactly are we operating, democracy or dollar-cracy?

 

The latest defection from PDP to APC, this time involving Delta State Governor Sheriff Oborevwori and his predecessor, Ifeanyi Okowa, along with an entire army of political appointees, has left many Nigerians wondering if our democracy is now nothing more than a bazaar. One by one, opposition members are crossing over to the ruling party like traders switching shops for better sales, and the reason, according to Bugaje, is simple: money.

In any true democracy, party affiliation is ideally based on shared ideology and vision for the country. But in Nigeria, we have thrown ideology to the wind. What we are seeing is a dangerous culture where political loyalty is dictated by who can dangle the fattest envelope. This is no longer politics; it is political merchandising, and APC seems to be perfecting it.

Bugaje hints at a disturbing possibility that deserves deeper scrutiny: that some defections might be coerced through the threat of EFCC prosecution. If this is true, then the ruling party is not only weaponizing state institutions to suppress dissent, but also undermining the fight against corruption by turning it into a tool for political gain.

 

It would mean that instead of prosecuting offenders regardless of party affiliation, the EFCC is being selectively deployed to haunt opposition members, until they “see the light” and defect. Once they do, their sins are forgiven, and they suddenly become “born again” politicians in the APC fold. This political baptism by defection is a disgrace to the fight against corruption, and a betrayal of the very Nigerians whose votes are being manipulated by this unholy alliance of power and impunity.

Bugaje also touched on another bitter truth, there is effectively no opposition in Nigeria today. The PDP has lost its voice, its spine, and its soul. From the moment it allowed Minister Nyesom Wike to play the party like a chessboard and eventually align with the APC while still claiming PDP membership, the writing was on the wall.

The absence of a strong, vibrant, and courageous opposition is a grave threat to democracy. In democratic systems across the world, opposition parties are not just a formality; they are the lifeblood of accountability. They scrutinize policies, challenge excesses, and keep the government on its toes. In Nigeria, the opposition seems to have been pocketed, and the pockets are lined with currency notes.

 

What is most shocking is the silence of institutions and civil society in the face of these allegations. If indeed money is being used to buy political loyalty and EFCC is being weaponized, where are the voices of reason? Where are the legal luminaries, the electoral watchdogs, the international observers, and most importantly, the Nigerian people?

We cannot afford to normalize the abnormal. The dangerous precedent being set here is that elections and mandates mean nothing. What matters is who can spend more and threaten harder. That is not democracy, it is tyranny in the guise of electoral legitimacy.

For the APC, the short-term gains of swelling its ranks through defections may seem like a smart political strategy. But it is a ticking time bomb. A party built on political scavenging rather than ideological unity will eventually implode. The very people being bought today will jump ship tomorrow when a higher bidder comes knocking. It is a political Ponzi scheme.

 

Moreover, the consequences for national cohesion and trust in democratic processes are devastating. Voters will eventually realize that their votes mean nothing. That elections are a mere ritual, a show to keep up appearances while real power is negotiated in backrooms with cash and blackmail.

Usman Bugaje is right to raise the alarm. We should not wait until democracy collapses entirely before we start holding those in power accountable. Nigerians must demand transparency in political funding. The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) must be empowered and required to monitor party financing and political transactions beyond elections. EFCC must be audited independently to ensure it is not a puppet of the executive.

More importantly, Nigerians must stop being complacent. The price of democracy is eternal vigilance, and right now, we are all sleeping on duty.

 

If money continues to be the currency of political loyalty and if parties like APC continue this brazen attempt to cannibalize the opposition through bribery and blackmail, then the country is on a dangerous path. A nation where no ideology is sacred and no vote is safe is a nation courting disaster.

To quote Bugaje, “for as long as money is going to be the determining factor, then that is the end of democracy.” And make no mistake about it, he is not crying wolf. He is ringing the alarm.

APC may think it is building an empire. What it is actually doing is hammering the final nails into the coffin of Nigeria’s already fragile democracy. The question now is: will Nigerians rise to resuscitate it, or will we watch it rot beyond repair?