Anthony Obi Ogbo
Biafra’s “May 30 solemnness” is now a shameful blood-spattered rite of remembrance.
Desperate activists bastardize Biafra’s “May 30, sacredness” into an outrageous blood-spattered rite of remembrance.
On December 7, 1941, the Japanese bombarded Pearl Harbor, killing thousands of U.S. servicemen. America, divided by ideological differences concerning warfare, united behind a declaration of war with Japan. That is the power of communal closeness after a tragedy. Thus, the psychology of unity after tragedy remains a natural phenomenon that instills a feeling of closeness following a tragedy. It breaks down walls of differences within a population and unites them against a common enemy. It activates innate instincts of empathy and comradeship and enables people to find solidarity in times of adversity through collective values of harmony, love, and togetherness. This was how the Igbos in eastern Nigeria lived during and after a three-year Nigerian civil war that ended in 1970.
Since this date, the separationist state, Biafra, has remained a symbol of unity, spiritual motivation, psychological healing, and shared identity among the Igbos and other tribes that make up the failed state. The horrific three-year event, now history, is still fresh in the minds of those who lived through it.
To refresh our memory, on May 30, 1967, Lieutenant Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu and other non-Igbo representatives established the Republic of Biafra and proclaimed its independence after suffering years of suppression under Nigeria’s military government. War broke out in July 1967, between Nigeria and Biafra, after several diplomatic efforts by Nigeria failed to reunite them. On January 11, 1970, Biafra was defeated. Ojukwu fled to the Ivory Coast and Biafra as a nation surrendered to Nigeria.
Since then, the people that once made up this region have honored this date, May 30, with a passionate and spiritual sense of nationalism. Igbos all over the world celebrate this date to recall memories and honor their fallen heroes. It is a holistic day of tribute to a war that took millions of lives and destroyed towns. The war set the entire social, political, and economic values of the Igbos years back. They organize seminars, community gatherings, and religious services, display the Biafran colors, and share impressive photographs and memorabilia related to the struggle.
Still on May 30 commemoration, the Igbos hold religious services in their language and Biafran ex-servicemen, who often dress in their military camouflage gear, are invited. Families conduct special services for loved ones lost during this war. Igbo communities in other parts of the world hold events and carnival-like parades where participants sing Biafran songs, dance, eat, and drink.
Because most parts of Nigeria see Biafra as a vicious cult of untrusted comrades, the name remains a divine symbol of unanimity and brotherhood among the Igbos.
What is left of Biafra after the war is a covenant of spiritual sensation uniting a population of survivors. Because most parts of Nigeria see Biafra as a vicious cult of untrusted comrades, the name remains a divine symbol of unanimity and brotherhood among the Igbos.
Regrettably, this impeccable Biafran philosophy has been weather-beaten by the insane actions of unscrupulous career activists. Over the years, the covenant that Biafran Igbos uphold has been swapped for unrestrained horror. Events saw street vandalism, hooliganism, and massacre. This year, for instance, before the May 30 commemoration, tension mounted in the five states of the south-eastern zone that once made up Biafra, as the sit-at-home order issued by the proscribed Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), a self-termination group, took effect.
The leader of this group, Nnamdi Kanu, issued the no-movement directive to commemorate this date. In a social media post, he threatened schools, airports, and markets to close, and ordered people to remain in their homes or be killed. Governor David Umahi of Ebonyi State countered with a statewide broadcast threatening to seize any shop that the owner refused to open. The governor ordered security agents to shoot on sight anyone trying to attack them.
Amid rising insecurity in the southeast region, there were growing concerns regarding the IPOB, and the government’s shoot-on-sight order, and therefore subjecting this celebration to another bloody nightmare. Across the southeast, many public places, including markets, banks, and schools, remained shut. Popular markets were deserted as individuals feared for their lives.
There was a killer-military personnel parading with a shoot-on-sight order against the IPOB. The IPOB vandals were obeying the directive to execute innocent citizens who defied their master’s orders. There were hooligans, who took advantage of the state of uncertainty to carry out fatal robberies. This is what Biafra’s May 30 was reduced to.
Igbos should be concerned about events occurring in their region and that their struggle has been hijacked by dishonest vandals and desperate self-seeking activists taking advantage of the people’s politics. These activists have created an unpleasant culture of self-aggrandizement and dishonest self-actualization advocacy, using conspiracy theories to enchant idle and vulnerable young Igbos into civil disorder.
For instance, on Facebook and YouTube, scores of different “Biafra” social media influencers operate (mainly women living in Europe), spewing false narratives about the Biafran struggle to boost account followers and inspire engagement. They use IPOB’s and Kanu’s inflammatory videos to gain followers and provoke them to cause public unrest.
The worst harm to a people’s struggle is to radicalize the youth with self-destructive conspiracy theories, and these activists have indeed authored this mayhem.
The worst harm to a people’s struggle is to radicalize the youth with self-destructive conspiracy theories, and these activists have indeed authored this mayhem. It is concerning that most Igbos failed to articulate the dire implications of Mr. Kanu’s YouTube sit-down order. For a regular citizen to accord himself the power to order that all airports, schools, and markets be shut down and order no people on the streets, is simply a sign that Mr. Kanu understands nothing about how the system works. A sit-down order instead of a discretionary public holiday is tyrannical and contradicts the ideals of freedom he advocates. It contravenes individual freedom of movement and makes a mockery of his self-actualization ventures. Indeed, if people stayed home for fear of their lives, it is no longer a memorial affair but a sorry hostage situation.
Indeed, if people stayed home for fear of their lives, it is no longer a memorial affair but a sorry hostage situation.
Without a doubt, Biafra’s “May 30 solemnness” has now metamorphosed into an outrageous blood-spattered rite of remembrance. The horrific events of the civil war that once united the Igbos are now perceived as farcical. So, what would the Igbo’s dialogue be with this mob of fraudulent activists with poor listening skills? What would the Igbo’s dialogue be with a gang of unskilled social media influencers who disseminate nonsensical, violent content to sustain paid engagements? How can the Igbos coordinate orientation and education for their self-acclaimed “self-determination” fighters on the legislative processes and key functions of government? How do they approach Mr. Kanu, with his arrogance, and other group leaders of Biafra’s cause who have been destroying each other? And last, how do the Igbos address and redirect thousands of youths who have been brainwashed by these rogue activists?
To move forward as a united entity, progress as a tribe, overcome any challenges, and defeat the so-called enemy, the Igbos must address these questions with effective resolutions.
♦ Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D. is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. Article is also published in the West African Pilot News
“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
Anthony Obi Ogbo
Dunamis Digital Dilemma: Why Shutting Down Virtual Worship May Alienate a New Generation of Believers
“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
“Employers aren’t just filling vacancies—they’re investing in solutions” —Anthony Obi Ogbo
Long before graduation, I understood that success in the job market required more than just a degree. Throughout college, I committed to internships, apprenticeships, and vacation jobs—some unpaid—solely to build the kind of professional experience that would ease my transition into the workforce. By the time I completed my NYSC at The Nigerian Guardian, I wasn’t just another fresh graduate—I was a candidate with proof of performance. I was retained on merit and even offered two cartoon columns at Guardian Express in a separate contract. That preparation made all the difference.
Today, however, many college graduates enter the job market unequipped for its demands. They speak of rejection, frustration, and a lack of experience—all valid concerns in an economy where employers no longer train novice hires from scratch. In a hyper-competitive, fast-paced, and increasingly skills-based market, the burden of preparation rests squarely on the students themselves.
There was a time when being a “novice” came with room to grow. Employers saw potential and invested in it. Now, entry-level roles often come with mid-level expectations: practical skills, strategic thinking, and an ability to contribute from day one. Employers aren’t just filling vacancies—they’re investing in solutions.
This is why it’s crucial for students to begin preparing early. That means building portfolios, seeking field-relevant internships, volunteering in areas that sharpen communication and leadership, and using every academic project as a springboard for real-world insight. These experiences add depth to a résumé and provide talking points in interviews that distinguish candidates from the crowd.
Equally important is networking. The relationships students build—with mentors, professionals, or peers—often become the very bridges that connect them to employment opportunities.
Ultimately, preparing for employment as a college student isn’t optional—it’s essential. And the sooner students begin, the better their chances of entering the workforce with confidence, clarity, and competence.
♦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