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The Menace of Local Government Transition Committee in Anambra State

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If the House of Assembly of Anambra State goes ahead to confirm Chairmen and Members of Local Government Transition Committee anytime this week or in the coming week, most of the Transition Committee Chairmen and members (councilors) would have spent not less than five years in their local governments, with zero accountability or responsibility for the hundreds of millions of local government funds supposed to have been disbursed to them. In fact, many of these transition chairmen and members have spent about six to eight years in their local governments, with completely nothing to show for it. Indeed, one or two might have stayed beyond eight years because they started as elected local government chairmen in 2013.

The culture of transition committee in Anambra state local government system is one that was reinforced by former governors Dr. Chris Ngige and Mr. Peter Obi. Just a few months to his exit, Obi conducted local government election and this was in 2013. Borrowing the same script, the incumbent governor Willie Obiano decided to take it a bit to the next level and therefore has not conducted local government election and not going to conduct till his exit in two months time. For the better part of his eight years, Governor Obiano has relied on the transition system to run the local government across Anambra State even to the disapproval of many party members.

To perfect this, Anambra State House of Assembly has been a reliable partner in this business of imposing and recycling of transition members in the local governments. Eventually, the failure of the government of Willie Obiano to conduct local government election in Anambra state throughout the life span of his administration, a record failure, may become his greatest political error, not only because the transition system is a disempowerment for the people in a democracy, whose first contact with government and involvement with government process should start with their local government. But also because the transition system is a cesspool of all forms of financial corruption and misappropriation in which local government funds are disbursed without responsibility and without due process.

The transition committee members are just there, waking up to a renewed term every three months.

Clearly, the transition committee members in Anambra state are representing themselves and the people that got them appointed; absolutely no one else. Such an extremely predatory system that absolves people in positions of authority of any responsibility can only thrive in a place like Nigeria and that is how it has been. The transition committee members are just there, waking up to a renewed term every three months. Where do Anambra people stand with this dangerous system? The most incredible provocateur in all these is the taught that this same system, most awful, the same transition committee members will be stylishly handed over to the incoming government. If the House of Assembly collaborates to approve a new tenure for the transition chairmen and members of the transition, the new tenure will extend into the life of the new government that will be sworn in on March 17, 2022. Is there any kind of justification for this?

Let us even assume that the government is simply taking advantage of the gap in the local government administration system and therefore the transition committee is not exactly illegal. The question is, why must the system be abused? For years, every three months the governor submits names of transition committee chairmen and members to the House for approval and the House approves. This has happened for no fewer than six to seven years under the current governor. Worst still, for at least five to seven years, the governor has appointed almost the same people, only making few changes in some local governments like two or three years ago. In all the local governments with transition committee that have stayed for so many years, are there no other APGA party faithful or qualified people in APGA to take up the job? Little wonder many of these transition committee members see their local government as their private property.

So if we are comfortable with corrupt, self-enriching system, why can’t the enrichment scheme just go round?

The House of Assembly must put an end to this abuse. If we justify the transition system, what justifications have we for the repeated reappointment of the same people, most of who have stayed for over half a decade in office? Is there any place in which people have no responsibility and yet are allowed to remain in office for years even when they have nothing to show? How many of these transition chairmen have done anything for their people worth one million Naira, even if what they get monthly is a subvention of five to ten million Naira? So if we are comfortable with corrupt, self-enriching system, why can’t the enrichment scheme just go round?

With the drug abuse and despondency ravaging communities across Anambra state, allocations meant for local government are shared under shrouded circumstances and the local government that should stand up to local issues such as this, has been emasculated. The transition committee simply takes their subvention home safely and still goes out to mount collection of some government revenue which they also disburse at will. No responsibility to the people and no accountability. These are different times and the people are getting increasingly agitated and aggressive and intolerable. These are danger signs that can only result to known consequences. Public office holders might wish to be more circumspect and attuned towards public good more than ever. It is however shocking that this is not yet the case.

Anambra State House of Assembly should not bequeath this legacy to the incoming government. The new government must be allowed in the interest of utmost public good, to settle down and take a responsible position in the manner Anambra state local governments are administered. For now, instead of reconfirmation of the transition committee, the House of Assembly should turn it down and use their powers to ask Local Government Heads of Service to assume office in the twenty-one local governments in Anambra state for the next two months, to create a conducive environment for the new government.

If the incoming government decides to set records straight and start by auditing local government accounts, before appointing a transition committee, so be it. And if the incoming government decides to appoint a transition committee briefly before conducting a proper local government election possibly next year, so be it. But the Anambra State House of Assembly must not bequeath a template of failure, corruption, and impunity in the local government, to an incoming administration.

♦ Ebuka Onyekwelu, strategic governance exponent,  is a columnist with the WAP

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When Power Doesn’t Need Permission: Nigeria and the Collapse of a Gambian Coup Plot

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Power does not always announce itself; sometimes it prevents chaos simply by being present. —Anthony Obi Ogbo

A failed coup attempt in The Gambia reveals how Nigeria’s understated military, diplomatic, and intelligence influence continues to shape West African stability—without spectacle, but with unmistakable authority.

The attempted destabilization of The Gambia—quickly neutralized before it could mature into a full-blown coup—served as a quiet but powerful reminder of how regional power is exercised in West Africa today. While social media narratives raced ahead with exaggerated claims and half-truths, the reality underscored a familiar pattern: Nigeria remains the pivotal stabilizing force in the sub-region, especially when the democratic order is threatened.

Unlike the dramatic coups that have unsettled parts of the Sahel, the Gambian plot never gained momentum. It faltered not by accident, but by deterrence. Intelligence sharing, diplomatic signaling, and the unmistakable shadow of regional consequences helped shut the door before conspirators could walk through it. At the center of that deterrence was Nigeria—acting through ECOWAS mechanisms, bilateral security coordination, and its long-established role as the region’s security backbone.

Nigeria’s influence in The Gambia is not a new phenomenon. From the 2017 post-election crisis, when Nigerian forces formed the backbone of the ECOWAS Mission in The Gambia (ECOMIG), to ongoing security cooperation, Abuja has consistently demonstrated that unconstitutional power grabs will not be tolerated in its neighborhood. The recent coup attempt—however embryonic—was measured against that historical memory. The message was clear: the region has seen this movie before, and Nigeria knows how it ends.

What is notable is not just Nigeria’s military weight, but its strategic restraint. There were no dramatic troop movements or chest-thumping announcements. Instead, Nigeria’s power was exercised through quiet pressure, coordinated intelligence, and credible threat of collective action. That subtlety is often overlooked in an era obsessed with spectacle, but it is precisely what makes Nigerian influence effective. Power does not always announce itself; sometimes it prevents chaos simply by being present.

The Gambian coup flop also exposes a wider truth about West Africa’s information ecosystem. Rumors travel faster than facts, and failed plots are often retrofitted into heroic or conspiratorial narratives. Yet the absence of tanks on the streets and the continuity of constitutional governance speak louder than viral posts.

In a region grappling with democratic backsliding, Nigeria’s role remains decisive. The Gambian episode reinforces a hard reality for would-be putschists: while coups may succeed in pockets of instability, they are far less likely to survive in spaces where Nigeria’s regional influence—political, military, and diplomatic—still draws firm red lines.

The failed coup attempt in The Gambia is a blunt reminder that real power in West Africa does not always announce itself with tanks, gunfire, or televised bravado. Sometimes it arrives quietly—and when it does, it often carries Nigeria’s imprint. While social media chased rumors and inflated conspiracy theories, the reality was far less dramatic and far more decisive: the plot collapsed because the regional cost of success was simply too high.

Unlike the coups that have torn through parts of the Sahel, the Gambian attempt never found momentum. It was stopped not by chance, but by deterrence. Intelligence sharing, diplomatic signaling, and the unspoken certainty of ECOWAS intervention closed the door before it could open. At the center of that deterrence stood Nigeria, operating through regional institutions and long-established security relationships. Abuja did not need to issue threats; its history spoke for itself.

Nigeria’s influence in The Gambia is rooted in memory. In 2017, Nigerian forces formed the backbone of the ECOWAS Mission, which enforced the electoral will and prevented a democratic collapse. That precedent still haunts would-be putschists. They know how this story ends, and they know who writes the final chapter.

What makes Nigeria’s power effective is not just military superiority, but strategic restraint. There were no dramatic troop movements or chest-thumping speeches—only quiet pressure, coordinated intelligence, and credible readiness. In a region addicted to spectacle, this restraint is often mistaken for weakness. It is not.

The Gambian coup flop also exposes the toxicity of the information space, where fiction outruns fact. But governance is not decided online. It is decided by institutions, alliances, and forces that do not need permission to matter. The message to plotters is brutal and clear: coups may succeed where chaos reigns, but they rarely survive where Nigeria still draws the red lines.

♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015)  and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us

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Burna Boy, the Spotlight, and the Cost of Arrogance

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Humility is the anchor that keeps greatness from drifting into delusion. —Anthony Obi Ogbo

Fame is a dangerous flame. It warms, it dazzles, and if you hold it too close, it burns straight through the layers of judgment that keep a person grounded. In its hottest glow, fame convinces artists that applause is permanent, talent is immunity, and fans are disposable. Arrogance doesn’t erupt overnight—it grows in the quiet corners of unchecked power, in entourages that never challenge, and in audiences that forgive too easily. But the world has a way of reminding every superstar of one brutal truth: no one is too famous to fall.

This season, Burna Boy is learning that lesson in real time. The Grammy-winning giant—hailed globally as the “African Giant”—is now facing one of the most dramatic reputational meltdowns of his career. Five U.S. arena dates on his NSOW Tour have reportedly been cancelled due to poor ticket sales and a fierce wave of fan backlash following his Denver debacle. What was supposed to be another triumphant American tour has spiraled into an expensive public relations disaster.

It all ignited on November 12, 2025, at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Colorado. The show started late. Energy was high. Then Burna Boy spotted a woman in the front row who had fallen asleep. Instead of performing through it, he halted the show, called her out publicly, ordered her partner to “take her home,” and refused to continue until they left. The humiliation would have been bad enough on its own. But later reports revealed she wasn’t drunk or uninterested—she was exhausted, mourning the recent death of her daughter’s father.

The internet demanded empathy. Burna responded with contempt. A sleeping fan, he said, “pisses me the f*** off.” And then the line that detonated the backlash: “I never asked anybody to be my fan.” Those ten words may become the most expensive sentence of his career.

This wasn’t an isolated flare-up. Burna Boy has long danced on the edge of arrogance, and the public has kept receipts. In 2019, he halted a performance in Atlanta to eject a fan who wasn’t dancing—handing the man money and telling him to leave. In Lagos in 2021, a fan who attempted an innocent stage hug was shoved off by security, sparking outrage over excessive force and coldness.

The following year was worse. In 2022, his security team was accused of firing shots in a nightclub after a woman allegedly rejected him, injuring multiple patrons and triggering legal headaches that trailed him for months. Fast-forward to January 2023: at his “Love, Damini” concert in Lagos, he arrived hours late, berated the crowd, and left fans feeling disrespected and insulted.

By 2025, the pattern was undeniable. He kicked a fan offstage during a New Year’s performance. Months later, he brought a Colorado concert to a standstill until an “unengaged” couple was escorted out. The incidents piled up, painting a portrait of an artist increasingly out of touch with the people who made him a global phenomenon.

This latest incident, however, has delivered the sharpest consequence yet: the U.S. market—a notoriously unforgiving arena—has pushed back.
Cancelled shows. Sparse crowds. Boycotts. Refund demands.
For perhaps the first time, an African artist of Burna Boy’s magnitude is experiencing a full-force American-style public accountability storm.

If African entertainers are paying attention, they should treat this moment as a case study in how fame can be mismanaged.

The first lesson: Fan value is sacred. Fans are not props. They are not subjects. They are not inconveniences in an artist’s emotional universe. They are customers, supporters, ambassadors, and—most importantly—the foundation on which every stage, every award, and every paycheck rests.

The second: Empathy is not optional. A superstar who cannot pause long enough to consider that a fan might be grieving, ill, exhausted, or battling something unseen is a superstar who has forgotten the humanity at the core of all art.

The third: Professionalism is currency. Arriving late, publicly shaming fans, halting shows, and weaponizing power in moments of irritation are choices that corrode trust. And once trust is broken, even a global superstar can watch ticket sales collapse in real-time.

Burna Boy is an extraordinary artist—brilliant, groundbreaking, and influential. His musical legacy is secure. But greatness in artistry is not the same as greatness in character. Fame tests the latter far more than it rewards it. And the spotlight, no matter how bright, does not protect anyone from the consequences of their own behavior.Humility is the anchor that keeps greatness from drifting into delusion. Burna Boy’s current storm is a brutal reminder that talent without restraint can become tyranny, and fame without introspection can become a curse. Artists rise because people believe in them, invest in them, and support them. When that respect is abused, loyalty evaporates. The lesson is stark: the higher the pedestal, the harder the fall—and the fall always comes. What matters is not the applause you command, but the humanity you maintain long after the music stops.

♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015)  and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us

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The Leadership Deficit: Why African Governance Lacks Philosophical Grounding

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Leadership across nations is shaped not only by policies but by the quality of the individuals at the helm. History has shown that the most transformative leaders often draw from deep wells of ethical, philosophical, and strategic thought. Yet, in many African countries—and Nigeria in particular—there appears to be a crisis in the kind of men elevated to govern. This deficit is not merely political; it is intellectual, philosophical, and deeply structural.

There is a compelling correlation between the absence of foundational wisdom and the type of leaders Nigeria consistently produces. Compared to their counterparts in other parts of the world, Nigerian leaders often appear fundamentally unprepared to govern societies in ways that foster justice, progress, or stability.

Consider the Middle East—nations like the UAE and Qatar—where governance is often rooted in Islamic principles. While these societies are not without flaws, their leaders have harnessed religious teachings as frameworks for nation-building, modern infrastructure, and citizen welfare. Ironically, many of Nigeria’s military and political leaders also profess Islam, yet the application of its ethical standards in public governance is nearly non-existent. This raises a troubling question: is the practice of religion in African politics largely symbolic, devoid of actionable moral guidance?

Take China as another case study. In the last four decades, China’s leadership has lifted over 800 million people out of poverty—an unprecedented feat in human history. While authoritarian in structure, China’s model demonstrates a deep philosophical commitment to collective progress, discipline, and strategic long-term planning. In Western democracies, especially post-World War II, leaders often emerged with strong academic backgrounds in philosophy, economics, or history—disciplines that sharpen the mind and cultivate vision.

In stark contrast, African leaders—particularly in Nigeria—are more often preoccupied with short-term political survival than long-term national transformation. Their legacy is frequently one of mismanagement, unsustainable debt, and structural decay. Nigeria, for example, has accumulated foreign loans that could take generations to repay, yet there is little visible infrastructure or social development to justify such liabilities. Inflation erodes wages, and basic public services remain in collapse. This cycle repeats because those in power often lack not just technical competence, but the moral and intellectual depth to lead a modern nation.

At the heart of the crisis is a lack of philosophical inquiry. Philosophy teaches reasoning, ethics, and the nature of justice—skills that are essential for public leadership. Nigerian leaders, by and large, are disconnected from such traditions. Many have never seriously engaged with political theory, ethical discourse, or economic philosophy. Without this grounding, leadership becomes a matter of brute power, not enlightened governance.

The crisis of leadership in Africa is not solely one of corruption or bad policy—it is one of intellectual emptiness. Until African nations, especially Nigeria, begin to value and cultivate leaders who are intellectually rigorous and philosophically grounded, the continent will remain caught in cycles of poverty and poor governance. True leadership requires more than charisma or military rank—it demands the wisdom to govern a society with justice, vision, and moral clarity. Without this, the future remains perilously fragile.

♦ Dominic Ikeogu is a social and political commentator based in Minneapolis, USA.

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