Anthony Obi Ogbo
Nigeria: To Protest or Not to Protest
“In the criminal court of public opinion, every Nigerian is a suspect.“ —Anthony Ogbo
Nigeria is currently in a state of tension as a highly anticipated national protest unfolds, aimed at addressing issues of bad governance, economic hardship, and inflation. Hundreds of protesters, many of them young people, have gathered in central Nigeria with placards criticizing the government’s policies. A week-long nationwide protest was scheduled to begin tomorrow, Wednesday, Aug. 1.
The necessity of this event is evident as the cost of living has skyrocketed since President Bola Ahmed Tinubu took office in May of last year. Hardship has only worsened following the removal of a controversial fuel subsidy and the implementation of other reforms. The prices of essential goods have soared, access to reliable electricity remains a distant dream, and long queues for fuel are a common sight in a country that is one of the world’s top oil and gas producers. The economic situation in Nigeria at present can only be described as dire.
Protests are a legitimate and powerful means of expressing dissent in a democratic society, allowing people to voice their grievances and influence political decisions. However, if not managed properly, protests can have negative consequences such as property damage, disruptions to daily life, and the potential for violence. The 1989 anti-Structural Adjustment Program protest in Nigeria, for example, spiraled into chaos and violence, causing harm to civilians. Similarly, the End SARS protest in 2020, initially against police brutality, was marred by vandalism and violence when hijacked by criminals, resulting in the tragic deaths of innocent protesters.
There are concerns that this protest may face challenges since the organizers and the regime could not agree on the demands. Omoyele Sowore, a former presidential candidate of the African Action Congress (AAC) and one of the protest’s organizers, has shared these demands with the media. Upon objective analysis, some of the demands may not be feasible and could hinder any potential compromise. For example, the protesters are calling for the regime to abolish the Senate arm of the Nigerian legislative system, retain the House of Representatives, and make lawmaking a part-time public service. How?
This proposal is not in line with democratic principles, as the executive branch does not have the authority to alter the structure of the legislative branch. The separation of powers is a fundamental aspect of democracy, ensuring that each branch of government has its own responsibilities and limitations. So how would this be implemented by President Tinubu?
Again, while the demand to suspend the 1999 constitution and replace it with a people-facilitated Constitution through a sovereign National Conference and a National Referendum is a valid point, it raises questions about President Tinubu’s constitutional authority to implement such changes.
The very foundation of the Nigerian system is built upon deceit and dishonesty.
Additionally, the call for a probe into past and present Nigerian leaders who have engaged in corruption, recover their stolen funds, and allocate them to education, healthcare, and infrastructure is commendable. However, it also highlights the potential conflict of interest among the leaders and stakeholders of the protest who may have been involved in similar activities. Every leader, past and present is corrupt. In the criminal court of public opinion, every Nigerian is a suspect. Throughout history, leaders (past and present including the protest leaders) have been plagued by corruption. In fact, the very foundation of the Nigerian system is built upon deceit and dishonesty.
Without a doubt, the upcoming protest faces challenges due to conflicting demands and questions about the feasibility of certain proposals. It is essential for all parties involved to engage in constructive dialogue and seek common ground to address the issues at hand effectively.
Given the current state of affairs in Nigeria, it is evident that there is a pressing need for some form of protest to exert pressure on the current administration. The economic and social systems in Nigeria are in disarray with Tinubu’s regime being plagued by widespread corruption, eroding trust in government institutions, and impeding economic progress. Income inequality is rampant, with a small elite class hoarding wealth while the majority of the population struggles to survive. High unemployment rates, inadequate infrastructure, and limited access to quality education and healthcare further compound the country’s challenges, perpetuating a cycle of poverty and instability.
It is imperative for all stakeholders to come together to effect meaningful change and foster a more just and equitable Nigeria. This collaborative effort should involve individuals, communities, governments, businesses, and organizations working in unison to address systemic issues such as poverty, discrimination, and inequality.
As previously mentioned, some of the demands set forth by the organizers appear to be unrealistic and lacking in feasible solutions, leading to suspicions of hidden agendas. For instance, the call for the unconditional release of Mazi Nnamdi Kanu (MNK) and the “demilitarization” of the South East appears to be a strategic move to capitalize on the emotional ties of the Igbo community, particularly in the East where Kanu hails from. Kanu, the leader of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), is currently detained on terror-related charges.
It is evident that the organizers are attempting to leverage the Igbo community’s strong political sentiments to bolster their cause, despite opposition from many Igbo leaders. This tactic raises questions about the true intentions behind the protests and underscores the need for transparency and accountability in their pursuit of social change.
The decision to protest or not can hinge on specific interests or potential benefits, as different communities stand to gain or lose depending on the outcome. Unfortunately, the average business owner often finds themselves as the primary victims of the looting that can occur during these protests. It is concerning that protesters have not adequately addressed how to protect the hundreds of businesses in Abuja, Lagos, and other major northern cities that are frequently targeted and damaged during such events.
While political protests are undeniably powerful tools for advocating change, amplifying voices, and challenging the status quo, it is essential to consider the potential consequences. Protests have historically been powerful catalysts for change, shaping the course of history and driving progress. However, when lacking clear objectives, they can devolve into mere displays of violence and destruction, serving only to garner superficial attention on social media.
♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo,PhD, is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015) Maxims of Political Leadership (2019) and The Situation Room (2024). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us
“Jonathan’s calculated and weaponized ambiguity breeds deception and weakens emerging political alliances.” —Dr. Anthony Obi Ogbo
Former Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan has once again found himself at the center of presidential speculation, floating silently above the country’s political waters while supporters aggressively market him as a possible candidate ahead of another critical election cycle. And once again, Jonathan is doing what he has mastered throughout his political career: saying nothing clearly while allowing political confusion to grow around him.
This pattern is not new. It is the same indecisive political behavior that defined some of the most consequential moments of his rise and fall. Jonathan became president in 2010 following the death of President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua. At the time, many northern political stakeholders within the then-ruling PDP believed there was an informal understanding that Jonathan would complete Yar’Adua’s term but not seek another full term in 2011, thereby preserving the party’s zoning arrangement between North and South. Instead of taking a clear and immediate position, Jonathan spent months dribbling the nation politically. He neither fully denied nor openly confirmed his intentions until the political tension had already escalated nationwide.
By the time he eventually declared his candidacy, the damage had been done. Many northern allies who initially supported him felt betrayed, politically cornered, or deceived. The PDP fractured internally, regional distrust deepened, and Jonathan’s relationship with major northern power blocs deteriorated permanently. Though he won the 2011 election, the cracks created by that indecision followed him into 2015, contributing significantly to the coalition that eventually removed him from power.
Yet Jonathan learned little from that experience. Since losing reelection in 2015, his name has repeatedly surfaced during every major electoral cycle as a potential presidential contender. Each time, his supporters strategically floated his candidacy across media platforms and political circles. Each time, Jonathan refused to decisively shut the door. Silence became his political instrument, whereas ambiguity became his strategy.
Now the country is witnessing the same playbook again. As coalition politics intensify and opposition forces attempt to consolidate around alternative political movements, Jonathan’s name has resurfaced aggressively. Reports and speculations about his presidential ambition continue to dominate political discussions, especially within camps seeking to disrupt the growing momentum surrounding Peter Obi and emerging opposition realignments.
The troubling part is not merely that Jonathan’s supporters are campaigning. The troubling part is that Jonathan fully understands the implications of his silence. He knows that his political stature carries enough weight to destabilize fragile coalition negotiations. He knows his name alone can divide campaign structures, weaken consensus-building, and inject uncertainty into opposition calculations. Yet he refuses to publicly and definitively state where he stands.
That is not statesmanship. That is calculated political ambiguity. Jonathan’s political history is filled with similarly contradictory choices. After losing power in 2015, he received widespread praise for conceding defeat peacefully. He initially framed that decision as a sacrifice made to preserve Nigerian lives and prevent violence. Later, however, different narratives emerged suggesting international pressure, particularly from the United States under President Obama. The shifting explanations weakened what could have remained one of his strongest democratic legacies.
Then came another contradiction. Despite emerging politically from the PDP, Jonathan gradually aligned himself closely with the administration of former President Muhammadu Buhari, serving in diplomatic and goodwill capacities that many PDP loyalists considered politically inappropriate. This unusual closeness fueled longstanding allegations that elements within the APC establishment viewed Jonathan as a useful political instrument capable of destabilizing opposition coalitions from within. Whether those allegations are true or not, Jonathan’s conduct has consistently created room for suspicion.
His political base remains uncertain. His campaign structure is invisible.
Today, his undeclared ambition is already generating confusion among supporters, coalition organizers, and opposition strategists. His political base remains uncertain. His campaign structure is invisible. His intentions are unclear. Yet his loyalists continue mobilizing aggressively in his name while he watches silently from the shadows.
Nigeria is too politically fragile for this kind of elite gamesmanship. At critical national moments, leadership demands clarity, courage, and accountability. Jonathan cannot continue operating as a permanent “maybe” in Nigeria’s political future, thoughtlessly hovering around every election season like an unanswered question designed to manipulate negotiations and weaken emerging alliances.
At this time, Jonathan should sit in or sit out! If he wants to run, he should declare openly, defend his record, and face the democratic process directly. If he does not intend to run, he should immediately and publicly withdraw his name from the political marketplace. Anything short of that increasingly looks less like political strategy and more like calculated deception. Nigeria deserves leaders who make difficult choices openly—not politicians who weaponize silence while others gamble with national uncertainty in their name.
♦ 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
Nigeria’s Forgotten Sacrifice and the Tragedy of Xenophobia in South Africa
As George Santayana famously warned, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” The unfolding xenophobic tensions in South Africa reflect more than economic strain; they reveal a deeper crisis of memory and meaning. When history fades, gratitude dissolves, and fear replaces solidarity. The violence directed at fellow Africans is not merely social unrest; it is a philosophical failure to reconcile past sacrifice with present identity, reminding us that nations, like individuals, must remember to remain whole.
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I recall that when I was in college in Nigeria, all Southern African students, present in substantial numbers, were on full federal government scholarships and received an additional income called a bursary. They lived better than many Nigerians; some even drove cars. Many adopted Nigerian names, assimilated seamlessly, and secured opportunities with ease, while Nigerian graduates faced rising unemployment. It was a quiet but powerful demonstration of solidarity, Nigeria investing in the future of a region still shackled by apartheid.
Today, that history feels almost erased.
For years now, waves of xenophobic attacks in South Africa, often targeting Nigerians, and more recently Ghanaians and other African nationals, have revealed a troubling pattern: violence fueled by economic frustration, misinformation, and historical amnesia. Shops are looted, homes burned, and lives disrupted under the recurring claim that “foreigners are taking jobs.” Yet this narrative collapses under even the most basic scrutiny of history.
Nigeria was not a bystander in South Africa’s liberation; it was a central force.
Under the military leadership of Olusegun Obasanjo, Nigeria became the first country in history to boycott the Commonwealth Games in protest against apartheid. That decision was not symbolic; it was costly, bold, and globally consequential. Obasanjo went further, advocating a continental defense posture and proposing what he termed a “Black bomb,” a radical idea reflecting the urgency of protecting African sovereignty against external aggression.
Nigeria’s commitment extended beyond rhetoric. During the Ibrahim Babangida regime, South Africa sought to exert strategic influence in Equatorial Guinea, offering infrastructure support before the discovery of oil. Nigeria recognized the geopolitical implications and decisively intervened, severing ties and offering its own support. The situation escalated to the point where Equatorial Guinea petitioned Nigeria at the United Nations for intervention. Nigeria did not retreat. This was not interference; it was protection. It was foresight. It was leadership.
Nigeria funded liberation movements, provided education, opened its economy, and bore economic sacrifices, including the nationalization of British Petroleum assets, to pressure the apartheid regime. These were not acts of charity; they were acts of conviction rooted in a vision of a free and united Africa.
And yet, decades later, Nigerians are hunted in the very land their country helped liberate.
The tragedy of xenophobia in South Africa is not merely about violence—it is about the collapse of historical consciousness. A generation disconnected from its past becomes vulnerable to manipulation, scapegoating, and misplaced anger. Economic hardship is real, but it does not justify the erasure of truth or the targeting of fellow Africans.
If history were remembered accurately, perhaps the conversation would be different. Perhaps the anger would be redirected toward structural inequalities rather than neighboring nationals. Perhaps the bonds of Pan-African solidarity would still hold.
But memory has faded, and in its absence, resentment has grown. Africa cannot afford selective memory. Nations that forget who stood with them in their darkest hours risk losing their moral compass in moments of crisis. Nigeria’s role in the liberation of South Africa is not a footnote—it is a foundation. To ignore it is to misunderstand both the past and the present.
Equally troubling is the persistent failure of successive South African governments to decisively confront and eradicate xenophobic violence. Such inaction, whether intentional or not, signals a dangerous tolerance, if not tacit endorsement, of these attacks, allowing them to recur with impunity. If brotherhood is to mean anything, it must be anchored in truth and reinforced by responsible leadership. And if Africa is to move forward, it must first remember and act.
♦ 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
The cost of this misalignment extends beyond politics and erodes the strength and perception of the Igbo brand itself — Dr. Anthony Ogbo
Few ethnic groups in the modern world embody resilience, adaptability, and entrepreneurial drive like the Igbo of southeastern Nigeria. Forged by history, particularly the trauma and aftermath of the Nigerian Civil War, the Igbo spirit has evolved into a global force defined by education, commerce, and labor. Across Africa, Europe, Asia, and the Americas, Igbo professionals, traders, academics, and innovators have exerted disproportionate influence. Their philosophy of self-determination, “Igbo enwe eze” (the Igbo have no king), has fostered a decentralized, merit-driven culture that rewards initiative and hard work.
In many respects, this dynamism mirrors that of the Jewish people. Like the Jews, the Igbo have leveraged education as a primary tool of advancement, often placing extraordinary value on academic achievement as a pathway to mobility. In commerce, both groups demonstrate remarkable networking capabilities, building trust-based systems that transcend geography. In labor, their willingness to start from the margins and climb through persistence is widely documented. These parallels are not superficial; they point to a shared cultural DNA rooted in survival, adaptability, and intellectual capital.
Yet this comparison begins to diverge in political cohesion and strategic alignment.
While Jewish communities globally have often demonstrated coordinated political engagement, aligning interests, influencing policy, and maintaining a unified voice, the Igbo have struggled to translate their economic and intellectual strength into sustained political power within Nigeria. This gap has had significant consequences, affecting not only their representation but also their broader cultural and national standing.
A critical example is their overwhelming support for Goodluck Jonathan in the 2011 and 2015 elections. While politically understandable at the time, this near-unanimous alignment left the Igbo politically exposed following his defeat in 2015. In the aftermath, many Igbo communities perceived a decline in federal inclusion and influence, reinforcing a sense of marginalization in Nigeria’s power structure.
This pattern appeared to repeat, albeit in a different form, with the passionate and often uncompromising support for Peter Obi in the 2023 elections. Obi’s candidacy energized millions, particularly among youth and the diaspora, and represented a shift toward issue-based politics. However, the “all-or-nothing” posture adopted by segments of his support base, both online and offline, arguably alienated potential allies across Nigeria’s diverse political landscape. What could have evolved into a broad coalition instead deepened ethnic and regional fault lines, weakening the strategic positioning of the Igbo in national politics.
Beyond electoral choices, the Igbo political challenge is also structural. The absence of a unified political leadership or central coordinating body has made it difficult to articulate and pursue long-term collective interests. Internal divisions, elite fragmentation, and the rise of competing advocacy voices, some constructive, others reactionary, have further complicated alignment. Additionally, separatist agitations, while rooted in legitimate grievances, have sometimes overshadowed pragmatic engagement with Nigeria’s political institutions, limiting opportunities for negotiation and influence.
The cost of this misalignment is not merely political; it touches the Igbo brand itself. A people known globally for enterprise and intellect risk being perceived domestically through a narrower lens of political disunity or agitation. This perception, whether fair or not, has implications for investment, partnerships, and national integration.
The way forward requires a recalibration, one that does not dilute Igbo identity but strengthens its strategic expression. First, there must be a deliberate effort to build political coalitions beyond ethnic lines. Nigeria’s complexity demands alliances; no single group can achieve national power in isolation. Second, Igbo leaders across business, academia, and civil society must converge on a shared political agenda that prioritizes inclusion, infrastructure, security, and economic development for the region within the Nigerian framework.
Third, political engagement must shift from emotional mobilization to strategic negotiation. This includes cultivating influence within major political parties, supporting diverse candidates across regions, and investing in long-term policy advocacy rather than election-cycle enthusiasm. Finally, the Igbo diaspora, arguably one of the most powerful in Africa, should be more intentionally integrated into political strategy, leveraging its global networks for both advocacy and investment.
Igbo dynamism remains undeniable. The challenge is not capacity, but coordination. If the same ingenuity that built global commercial networks can be applied to political alignment, the Igbo will not only preserve their cultural and economic stature but also secure a more decisive role in shaping Nigeria’s future.
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♦ Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is with the School of Communication, Texas Southern University. Dr. Ogbo is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is also the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015) and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us
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