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Anthony Obi Ogbo

Obism—The test of translating a movement into electoral victory votes

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“The duo of Obi and Datti Baba-Ahmed remains the most qualified team that could steer this country in a different direction. However, a possible victory hangs on how this movement could strategically circumvent a dysfunctional balloting process and navigate past the finish line of electoral victory.” ―Anthony Obi Ogbo

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During a strategic group meeting of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) held shortly before the 2015 election at a castle on Puerta Vista Lane in Houston, TX, Hon. Dan Ulasi, a strategist with the party at the time, shocked his party enthusiasts when he hinted that their flagbearer and incumbent, Dr. Goodluck Jonathan, might not make it to the next tenure. According to Ulasi, with time running out, the campaign was not organized on the ground, did not weigh the electoral map options, and had no strategies to counter a possible ballot mishandling. A few months after this prediction, the Jonathan regime crumbled like a soggy, oil-drenched Ijebu fried plantain.

 

Thus, one of the major reasons Goodluck Jonathan fell in the 2015 presidential race was his campaign’s inability to explore on-the-ground winning strategies. Overconfident and blind to ideas, his team relied on three major factors: a rousing social media blare, the power of incumbency, and public hatred for his archrival, Muhammadu Buhari.

Currently, Nigeria is faced with yet another chance to turn over a new regime leaf. At the forefront of Nigeria’s politics is the Peter Obi movement tagged Obism. The subject, Peter Gregory Obi, a businessman and politician who served as the Governor of Anambra State two separate times, is the Labour Party nominee for President of Nigeria in the 2023 presidential election. Obi’s campaign supporters gradually metamorphosed into an inspiring political movement, spreading across the nation like wildfire. Most passionate about this cause is the younger population. They took their excitement to the internet and infiltrated social media with campaign literature, including videos, catchphrases, and memes.

While all core supporters of Obi might be classified as “Obidients,” it must also be noted that in reality, there are just two categories: the Obi campaign strategists and the Obidients. The campaign strategists within the Peter Obi Support Network (POSN) are result-driven individuals focused on creating working avenues to get Obi elected. Armed with good funds and the right message, they remain the foremost support network that is crowdfunding for Peter Obi’s presidential campaigns.

In contrast, the Obidients are desperate do-or-die fanatics blind to the complexities of prevailing political terrain but driven by emotions and unquestioning enthusiasm borne out of frustration over the country’s decades of economic, social, and political meltdown. They are good, too, but often embarrass their candidate with messages incompatible with his electioneering ideology.

They are uncontrollable and flood social media platforms with video clips and poster messages conflicting with or perhaps contradicting what their candidate stands for. For example, the campaign understands the “Igbo fear factor” in Nigerian politics and has been working hard to portray its candidate as an ethnically blind figure who would unite the country. In sheer contrast, some Obidient fanatics are busy spewing messages about the inevitability of electing Obi as bait to win the Igbos into the national fold—an approach that might attract mistrust and fear among voters of northern swing states. Similarly, they have played into the hands of the opposition by unintelligibly engaging in social media tribal wars that further portray their candidate as a tribal leader.

Organizers must not be confused between an ideological movement and running a political campaign

Obism or “Obidience” is a movement, yet organizers must not be confused between an ideological movement and running a political campaign in Nigeria—a nation with a terrible electioneering record. The success of any mobilization structure for political advancement must entail strategic planning, organizing, fundraising, and mobilization of individuals.

Without a doubt, Obism is trending. Yet there are concerns about carrying the momentum beyond the current emotional excitement, social media buzz, and sometimes, annoying bombastic optimism. Do not get me wrong. Those lines are still influential in building and sustaining a campaign. However, strategies are yet to be seen for taking advantage of this movement and pushing momentum through the finishing lines of electoral victory. Just yesterday, at a mega rally in Houston, Texas, a supposed spokesman for the Obidient repeatedly announced that voters should ignore parties and vote for individuals—an indication that those fanatics are clueless about where the campaign is headed.

The Obidient fanatics have also bastardized his “shishi” ideology. “We no dey give shishi” is an anti-bribery maxim highlighting the candidate’s ethical decency in a country where corruption is an anthem. Unfortunately, the Obidient fanatics have pushed this mantra beyond the lines, discouraging prospective campaign workers, performing artists, and media platforms with a fictitious belief that the campaign is structured only to employ volunteers who would use their own money and resources.

There has to be alignment to sustain a winning approach. The campaign strategists could bring the fanatics into the fold and curtail their excesses by facilitating their campaign messages and other strategic advances to align with their electioneering mission. Actors, actresses, and performing artists must not be dissuaded by the “We no dey give shishi” mantra; rather, they must be engaged with attractive cash rewards to lead the grassroots voter mobilization drive. Polling booths are located neither on Instagram nor TikTok.

Polling booths are located neither on Instagram nor TikTok.

Just yesterday, one day before the closing of the Continuous Voter Registration (CVR) exercise, some hoodlums stormed the facility of St. Brigid Catholic Church Ijesha Lagos, where thousands of late registrants gathered and made away with all the equipment and materials. There was also similar news in several parts of the country, especially in the Southeast. The campaign must mobilize groups to monitor and coordinate polling locations before the election, to deter opposition vandals from election day ballot-snatching surprises. It worked in Edo’s previous gubernatorial race.

The candidate, Obi, has virtually traveled through the entire nation. Yet, it is worrisome that two other major rivals, Atiku Abubakar (Peoples Democratic Party) and Bola Tinubu (the All-Progressives Congress), are not vigorously campaigning. Both candidates, who are richer than Nigeria, have a history of buying their ways through any process and have successfully demonstrated this on many occasions.

The duo of Obi and Datti Baba-Ahmed remains the most qualified team that could steer this country in a different direction. However, a possible victory hangs on how this movement could strategically circumvent a dysfunctional balloting process and navigate past the finish line of electoral victory.

Let us be clear about Nigerian politics. Knowing Nigeria is one thing. Understanding its intricate politics requires unique competencies unavailable on Google. Nigeria’s political setting transcends the electoral process and often entails inconceivably crooked ballot handling. The three most crucial winning structures are facilitating and sustaining an on-the-ground poll army, strategic coordination of electoral maps, and the ability to counter ballot mishandling and falsification of ballot figures.

In the electioneering trade, a movement represents an ideology, a campaign is a project. Team Obi could use this movement to build a winning campaign.  It may sound unprofessional, but to tear through the walls of Nigeria’s electoral challenges, the Obi campaign must, at some point, play dirty. The capacity of this approach will not be discussed in this article, but as the African Ancestors would caution, to pound food on the mortar or to pound on a bare floor is a choice.

♦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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Anthony Obi Ogbo

Texas’ 18th Congressional District Runoff: Amanda Edwards Deserves This Seat

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Her persistence and long-term investment make a clear case: she has earned this opportunity. —Anthony Obi Ogbo

In the special election to fill Texas’s 18th Congressional District, no candidate won a majority on November 4, 2025, leading to a January 31, 2026, runoff between Democratic frontrunners Christian Menefee and Amanda Edwards. Menefee, Harris County Attorney, led the field with roughly 29% of the vote, while former Houston City Council member Edwards finished second with about 26%. Both are vying to represent a district left vacant after the death of U.S. Rep. Sylvester Turner.

The 18th Congressional District is far more than a geographic area. Anchored in Houston’s historic Black communities, it is a political and cultural stronghold shaped by civil rights history, faith institutions, and grassroots activism. Sheila Jackson Lee represented this district for nearly three decades (1995–2024), becoming more than a legislator—she was a constant presence at churches, funerals, protests, and community milestones. For residents, her leadership carried spiritual weight, reflecting stewardship, protection, and a deep, almost pastoral guardianship of the district. Her tenure symbolized continuity, cultural pride, and a profound connection with the people she served.

Houstonians watched as Jackson Lee entered the 2023 Houston mayoral race, attempting to transition from Congress to city leadership. Despite high-profile endorsements, including outgoing Mayor Sylvester Turner and national Democratic figures, she lost the December 9, 2023, runoff to State Senator John Whitmire by a wide margin. Following that defeat, Jackson Lee filed to run for re-election to her U.S. House seat, even as Edwards—who had briefly joined the mayoral race before withdrawing—remained in the congressional primary.

At that time, Jackson Lee’s health was visibly declining, yet voters still supported her, honoring decades of service. She defeated Edwards in the 2024 Democratic primary before announcing her battle with pancreatic cancer. Her passing in July 2024 left the seat vacant.

Edwards, already a candidate, sought to fill the seat, but timing and party rules intervened. Because Jackson Lee died too late for a regular primary, Harris County Democratic Party precinct chairs selected a replacement nominee. Former Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner, a retired but widely respected figure, narrowly edged out Edwards for the nomination, effectively blocking her despite her prior campaigning efforts. Turner won the general election but died in March 2025, triggering a special election in 2025, in which Edwards advanced to a runoff.

The January 31, 2026, runoff will hinge on turnout, coalition-building, and key endorsements. Both candidates led a crowded November field but fell short of a majority, with Menefee narrowly ahead. Endorsements such as State Rep. Jolanda Jones’ support for Edwards could consolidate key Democratic blocs, particularly among Black women and progressive voters. In a heavily Democratic district where voter confusion and turnout patterns have been inconsistent, the candidate who best mobilizes supporters and unites constituencies is likely to prevail.

Amanda Edwards’ case is compelling. Although both candidates share similar values and qualifications, her claim rests on dedication, consistency, and timing that have been repeatedly denied. She pursued this seat with focus and purpose, maintaining a steady commitment to the district and its future. Her path was interrupted by the prolonged political ambitions of Jackson Lee and Turner—figures whose stature reshaped the race but delayed generational transition. Edwards did not step aside; she remained visible, engaged, and prepared. In a moment demanding both continuity and renewal, her persistence and long-term investment make a clear case: she has earned this opportunity.

This race comes down to trust, perseverance, and demonstrated commitment. Amanda Edwards has consistently shown up for the district, even when political circumstances repeatedly delayed her chance. Her dedication reflects readiness, respect for the electorate, and an unwavering commitment to service. Voting for Amanda Edwards is not only justified—it is the right choice for Houston’s 18th Congressional District.

♦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 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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