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Anthony Obi Ogbo

Contentious race for Harris County Judge—why voters must stand by incumbent Lina Hidalgo

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“Republican Party intentionally rendered Harris County a crime scene with bloody gun laws to corroborate their “tough-on-crime” campaign strategy.” ―Anthony Obi Ogbo

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It was not a surprise when the Houston Chronicle handed an endorsement to Alexandra del Moral Mealer, Harris County Judge Lina Hidalgo’s Republican Party challenger. Citing very flimsy justifications in its editorial piece, The Chronicle concluded, “we encourage Harris County voters to back Mealer in this race. We can only hope that once in office, she’d effectively address crime, tend to basic services, and restore civility on the court by governing as a strong local leader, not a partisan.”

And seriously, The Chronicle wants voters to believe that a Donald Trump student, a 2020 election denier who does not believe in democracy and rule of law could “restore civility on the court by governing as a strong local leader.”

Without a doubt, the race for Harris County Judge has taken a pugnacious turn for the worst.  From the corporate media to predatory Republican Party business gurus and cohorts, a do-or-die conspiracy venture to unseat this incumbent is costing her opposition a fortune. For instance, the latest campaign finance reports show that as of mid-October, Mealer raised nearly 5 million dollars—more than most state-wide candidates.

The opposition campaign funds are utilized to lampoon Hidalgo with a composition of junky advertorial slots littered all over the media. As a strategy to support their fictitious claim that Hidalgo was defunding the police, the Republican members of the Harris County Commissioners Court have consistently boycotted meetings, blocking the passage of the proposed county budget, then using that to generate campaign materials for the midterm.

There are obvious reasons why rapacious opposition cronies want Hidalgo’s pound of flesh. She is the first woman to be elected County Judge and only the second to be elected to the Commissioners Court. Additionally, her Democratic Party identity and all-inclusive progressive ideology make her the opposition’s nightmare. For instance, she expanded early childhood education, pursued criminal justice reform, and initiated stricter regulation of land development and pollution. To make her opposition witch hunters even more uncomfortable, she facilitated easier access to voting and passionately supported commonsense policies for undocumented immigrants.

Her aggressive response to the coronavirus pandemic further elevated her popularity among Harris County residents.

Yet Hidalgo remains a hard nut, who in 2018 at the age of 27, and as a first-time candidate surprised the political establishment by crushing a three-term Republican brand name incumbent, Ed Emmett. Her aggressive response to the coronavirus pandemic further elevated her popularity among Harris County residents.

The Republicans on the other hand floated a long list of policy meltdowns to back up their antagonizing disapproval of Hidalgo’s stewardship. According to The Houston Chronicle, which indeed provides overbearing media coverage for the anti-Hidalgo fraternity, “Our gravest concerns, though, involve Hidalgo’s failure to respond with urgency to Harris County’s crime wave.”

It is hypocritical when the opposition blames Hidalgo for the County’s high rise in crime without at least citing the root of the problem. The current uncontrollable crime rate was hatched when Gov. Greg Abbott and his Republican collaborators enacted the permitless carry bill into law in 2021. This deadly legislation, which took effect starting Sept. 1, made it legal to carry handguns without a license or training. Thus, the Republican Party intentionally rendered Harris County a crime scene with bloody gun laws to corroborate their “tough-on-crime” campaign strategy.

If any party should bring us matters of moral decency in government, it is definitely not the Republican Party

Hidalgo’s three staffers were indicted for allegedly steering an $11 million contract toward a Democratic operative, and the opposition has made this an anthem. I would agree with Hidalgo that the indictments are meritless and politically motivated. But wait a minute, if any party should bring us matters of moral decency in government, it is definitely not the Republican Party.

Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, a Republican, is currently facing state securities fraud charges and reportedly is under FBI investigation for bribery, yet he is still on the ballot. It has been nearly seven years since the attorney general was indicted on felony securities fraud charges and he is still on the job. Additionally, Gov. Abbott recently appointed an officer indicted for misconduct during George Floyd protests to the police regulatory agency. Justin Berry was among 19 Austin police officers indicted earlier this year, accused of using excessive force against people protesting the murder of George Floyd. So, who really needs these lessons on moral decency?

The truth is that after a 2016 Harris County election “Blue Wave” when the Democrats swept up every single countywide seat, including the district attorney and sheriff’s offices, the Republican opposition has been alarmed about losing the state majority. Harris County, the third largest in the nation, has remained a Democratic Party enclave which might likely influence the state political dynamic.

The battle for Harris County Judge goes beyond the ongoing conspiracies orchestrated by a desperate Republican opposition. Their challenger, Mealer, is a good woman, but she is a stooge who is being planted by the anti-democratic Republican Party to represent their interests.

The call to retain the incumbent, Lina Hidalgo, in the office is not a partisan move.

I have always advised communities not to rely on corporate media endorsements to make their political choices because their interests are often profit-oriented, politically motivated, and thoughtlessly bigoted to appease some ulterior causes.  The call to retain the incumbent, Lina Hidalgo, in the office is not a partisan move. Ushering a Republican stooge into this office would tear this county apart. Also, Harris County voters must not be confused by sensational stories of the corporate media spewing amplifying headlines about this race being very tight.  According to Texas Trends Survey 2022: The Race for Harris County Judge, published by the Hobby School of Public Affairs of the University of Houston, “Among Harris County likely voters surveyed, the vote intention in the county judge race is 52% for Democrat Lina Hidalgo and 42% for Republican Alexandra del Moral Mealer, with 6% undecided.”

Now, if you care to know why the State Republican leaders are doing everything to block minority voters, here is why: In the same survey, Hidalgo holds a 71-percentage point advantage over del Moral Mealer among Black voters, 79% vs. 8%, and a 44-percentage point advantage among Latino voters, 69% vs. 25%.

Now you know why, come rain or sunshine, every minority must vote!

♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Journalism and RTF 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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Anthony Obi Ogbo

When Dictators Die, Their Victims Don’t Mourn

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“Buhari’s legacy is not a national treasure—it is a cautionary tale of tyranny cloaked in uniform and democracy.” —Anthony Obi Ogbo

In many cultures, including mine, it’s considered immoral to speak ill of the dead. But tradition should never demand silence in the face of truth, especially when that truth is soaked in blood, broken promises, and the battered dignity of a nation. General Muhammadu Buhari, former military dictator and two-term civilian president of Nigeria, has finally departed this world. He died in London, a city he frequented not as a diplomat or global statesman, but as a medical tourist—fleeing the ruins of a healthcare system he helped wreck with decades of authoritarianism, tribalism, and economic blundering.

Muhammadu Buhari emerged from the rotten womb of Nigeria’s corrupt military order — a regime where brute force outweighed intellect, and the rattle of an AK-47 silenced the rule of law. In this twisted hierarchy, competent officers were buried in clerical backrooms while semi-literate loyalists were handed stars, stripes, and unchecked authority. It was a theater of mediocrity, where promotion favored obedience over merit and ignorance was rewarded with rank. Within this structure of absurdity, Buhari thrived — a man with no verifiable high school certificate, yet elevated above the constitution, above accountability, and tragically, above the very people he was meant to serve. He didn’t just symbolize the decay; he was its product and its champion.

Let’s not sugarcoat his legacy. Buhari was no hero. He was a man whose grip on power twice disfigured Nigeria’s soul — first with military boots from 1983 to 1985, then under the guise of democracy from 2015 to 2023. His government jailed journalists, brutalized citizens, crippled the economy, and widened tribal divisions with unapologetic bias. His infamous Decree No. 2 sanctioned indefinite detentions. His so-called “War Against Indiscipline” terrorized the innocent. His economic policies were textbook disasters.

Buhari governed with the cold logic of a tyrant who believed brute force was a substitute for vision — and silence a substitute for accountability. The Southeast, in particular, bore the brunt of his vengeance-laced leadership. His disdain for the Igbo people was barely concealed, a poisonous remnant of civil war bitterness he never let go. In his death, that venom remains unresolved, unrepentant.

Let the record reflect that many of us do not weep. We remember.

Even more damning is the legacy of hypocrisy. After decades in power and access to untold national wealth, Buhari could not trust the hospitals he left for ordinary Nigerians. He died where he lived his truth — in exile from the very system he swore to fix. That is not irony. That is an indictment.

And now, as scripted eulogies pour in — from paid loyalists, political survivors, and the ever-hypocritical elite — let us not be fooled by the hollow rituals of state burials and national mourning. Let the record reflect that many of us do not weep. We remember.

  • We remember the students gunned down.
  • The protesters beaten in the streets.
  • The journalists silenced.
  • The dreams buried beneath military decrees and broken campaign promises.

We remember that Buhari was not simply a failed leader — he was a deliberate one, whose failings were not accidents but strategies.

And so, here lie the cold remains of one of Nigeria’s most divisive and mean-spirited leaders — a man who brutalized the democratic process with the precision of a tyrant and the coldness of a man utterly void of remorse. As Muhammadu Buhari begins his final, silent descent into the earth, one can only imagine him entering eternity still questioning the justice of creation: Why did God make women? Why did He place oil in the Niger Delta and not in Daura? And why, of all things, did He dare to create tribes outside the Fulani?

It is not my job to mourn a dictator. My duty is to chronicle them — how they ruled with iron fists, trampled their people, choked the press, and finally died, not as legends, but as small men stripped of all illusions. Dictators are counterfeit gods, tormenting peaceful nations while their delusions last. But sickness humbles them. Death silences them. And in the end, all their grandstanding collapses like dust in a grave.

As a journalist, I will record Buhari’s death with precision, not reverence. I will report the pomp, the propaganda, and the hollow eulogies that will rain down like cheap perfume on a corpse. I will write the truth, because history must never confuse power with greatness — especially when evil wore both the uniform and the ballot.

Let the living learn. Let the wicked sleep. And let the truth outlive them all.

I will not mourn a man who ruled through fear and died surrounded by foreign doctors while his people die waiting in overcrowded hospital corridors. I will not pretend this is a time for unity or healing. This is a time for reckoning. For too long, Nigeria has recycled tyrants and renamed oppression “leadership.” Buhari’s death should not be a moment of forced reverence but a pause for honest reflection. Let his final chapter be a lesson carved into our collective memory: that power without purpose, and rule without empathy, always ends in disgrace. History should not be kind to tyrants simply because they are no longer breathing. If we are ever to break the chains of corruption and cruelty, we must bury the lies with the bodies — and speak truth, even at the graveside. Let the living learn. Let the wicked sleep. And let the truth outlive them all.

♦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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Dunamis Digital Dilemma: Why Shutting Down Virtual Worship May Alienate a New Generation of Believers

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“Spirituality is no longer confined to physical sanctuaries” —Anthony Obi Ogbo

The demands of the digital and virtual age, especially in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, are both undeniable and irreversible. The pandemic didn’t merely disrupt norms—it reshaped them. From global commerce to education and religious observance, the shift to digital platforms is now a defining feature of contemporary life. The surge in e-commerce has revolutionized how consumers behave, compelling organizations to reinvent their digital presence through social media, targeted marketing, and immersive experiences like augmented and virtual reality.

Yet, while many institutions have adapted to these realities, some remain entrenched in pre-pandemic mindsets. One recent example is the Dunamis International Gospel Centre in Abuja, Nigeria, under the leadership of Pastor Paul Enenche. The church announced the suspension of its live-streamed services, citing the biblical imperative for believers to gather physically, as referenced in Hebrews 10:25.

While the theological rationale was emphasized, the practical implications—particularly financial—were conspicuously understated. Churches around the world have successfully embraced virtual platforms not just to foster spiritual connection but also to maintain financial stability through online giving systems. In contrast, Dunamis’s move appears to prioritize physical attendance at the expense of accessibility and inclusivity.

In today’s digitally integrated society, suspending virtual worship risks alienating many who have come to rely on these platforms. Individuals with health challenges, mobility issues, or who live far from church facilities depend on livestreams to remain spiritually connected. More importantly, younger generations increasingly seek faith experiences that mirror their digital-first realities—flexible, inclusive, and globally accessible. By disregarding these expectations, churches may unintentionally push away the very audiences they aim to engage.

Pastor Enenche’s decision, while perhaps grounded in spiritual intent, may prove counterproductive in practice. The younger demographic—tech-savvy, mobile, and globally aware—now expects more from institutions of faith. They are turning toward worship centers that treat digital engagement not as an afterthought but as a vital dimension of spiritual life. The hybrid church model—integrating both in-person and online elements—has emerged as a powerful strategy for expanding reach while honoring traditional values. It allows churches to be both rooted and relevant.

The decision to suspend livestreaming church services reflects a deeper tension between tradition and innovation, between preserving ritual and adapting to contemporary realities. Faith institutions today are not just places of worship; they are also cultural anchors navigating an increasingly digital society. Ignoring this evolution risks rendering the church irrelevant to a generation that lives, works, and worships online. Spirituality is no longer confined to physical sanctuaries—it’s present in podcast sermons, Zoom prayer meetings, WhatsApp devotionals, and YouTube gospel concerts.

Virtual engagement is not a dilution of faith; it is an extension of it. It makes the message of hope and redemption accessible across boundaries of geography, ability, and circumstance. The pandemic revealed this, but the future will demand it. Churches that fail to embrace digital tools risk becoming spiritual silos—isolated, inflexible, and out of touch with modern believers.

Leadership in ministry, like leadership in any other sphere, must evolve with the people it seeks to serve. Pastor Enenche and others in similar positions should not view digital transformation as a threat but as an opportunity—an opportunity to reach farther, touch deeper, and uplift more lives. The gospel, after all, is meant for all—and now, more than ever, everywhere.

♦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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