Anthony Obi Ogbo
Toward 2023: The Igbo cause and structure of the Nigerian politics
How can a lame-duck president with zero legislative support lead a people out of system inequality in a predominantly hostile political environment? In a democracy, the president does not have the authority to make laws or facilitate major structural transformations. The Igbo community is yearning for equal justice and equity through sweeping governance restructure. So, what kind of candidates or parties should they be looking for? Are they better off backing an immobilized president with Igbo DNA or negotiating with a congressional majority to push their agenda?
In the past six years, major Igbo political leaders encouraged the combative agitation for statehood stirred up by a separationist group, the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB). Elected Igbo representatives or officials used IPOB and their often extremely divisive crusades for political convenience. However, they did not weigh some long-term political implications of those messages.
For instance, IPOB championed violent “no-referendum-no-election” operations that unleashed bloody violence at political rallies and polling stations where election workers and individuals were simply participating in the process. IPOB also recklessly destabilized the commercial sector in the Southeast. Most Igbos ignored numerous warnings from political observers about the long-term destructive nature of the trend of pushing forward their agenda of a national system that would serve their communal interests.
Astonishingly, just recently, a few months before the general election that would usher in another regime, the Igbos have been all over Nigeria’s political scene grappling with how to align themselves to attain relevance. The group has been unsuccessful in its negotiations to attain a presidential ticket in the two major political parties. However, Peter Obi, a charismatic former governor of Anambra State, defected a few days before his People’s Democratic Party primaries to become the Labor Party’s flagbearer.
Obi’s candidacy soon picked up unprecedented momentum among the youth, especially those of his Igbo ethnicity, who are now mobilizing themselves for a historic voter-registration drive to push his candidacy. Strangely enough, the same activists who championed the movement to isolate the Igbo youths from the political process because they wanted a Biafra are now flying the Labor Party flag and leading the “Obi-kere re nke” campaign mantra in a push for an Igbo president. It was precisely this cause that they had opposed for over six years. So, where does this leave the Igbos?
The purpose of this article is not to predict the electability of any candidate, nor is it to sugarcoat the prevailing rocky political environment; rather its goal is to provide some empirical insights as well as lay a more realistic foundation to enable competent Igbo thinkers to explore the prevalent political options before making any meaningful decisions about the 2023 general election.
In a democracy, interest, not tribe, drives party affiliation and support
Politics facilitates communal interests. In a democracy, interest, not tribe, drives party affiliation and support. In other words, communities look for candidates who have the capacity to make decisions not just on their behalf but also in accordance with their interests. Therefore, it would be worthwhile to first identify the interests of the Igbos.
The majority of the problems Igbos are facing today originate from the country’s constitution and its current governance structures. In a nutshell, their demands focus on the following:
- Reconstruction of the current constitution to impartially address revenue and resource allocations, electoral maps, the structure of state and local governments, and the draconian federal character.
- Reconstruction of the current constitution to overhaul the current security structure and decentralize internal security.
- Laws to protect Nigerian citizens, their families, homes, and businesses in every part of the country.
- Laws to address marginalization or quota and guarantee equal opportunities to all Nigerians
With the aforementioned crucial needs, how could voting for a lone candidate without considerable legislative support help the Igbos? In Nigeria’s organizational structure, the executive function does not make the laws; it carries them out. The judiciary evaluates the laws but often has the power to preside over very crucial decisions. The National Assembly, which consists of a Senate with 109 members and a 360-member House of Representatives, exerts much power in making structural changes. In fact, should the President reject a bill, the Assembly could pass it by two-thirds of both chambers and overrule the veto —in which case, the President’s consent would not be required.
Under the current legislative structure, in the Senate (109 seats), the All Progressives Congress (APC) has 66 seats; the People’s Democratic Party occupies 38 seats while others have 2 seats and 3 vacant seats. In the House of Representatives (360 seats), the APC occupies 227 seats; the People’s Democratic Party has 121 seats while others have 11 seats with one vacant seat.
There are Igbos advocating for individual candidates and others embracing the Labor Party to appease their strong desire for an Igbo president. The latter needs to bear in mind that, currently, the Labor party has no seat in the Senate and only one seat in the House of Representatives. Is the Labor party projecting to win significant seats in the forthcoming election? If not, how could a president of Igbo descent, with one shaky legislative seat out of 360 help the Igbos under the current constitutional structure?
It may also be interesting to note that anytime a national election is polarized along tribal lines, the first major loser is the Igbo tribe because they do not have the numbers to succeed nationally, and they are not trusted by other regions to collaborate in good faith. The much-hyped rotational presidency is not a constitutionally mandated process but an arrangement by political parties. Thus, legislative support is needed to enshrine most of the demands of the Igbos in the constitution.
It might be hard to swallow, but the truth is that the problem of the Igbos is not in Aso Rock but lies within the legislative axis. The current get-out-and-register exercise inspired by Obi is commendable, but a harsh truth remains: it is going to be a rough and bumpy ride to 2023. Igbos must set aside their emotions and put on their rational, critical-thinking caps to play hardball politics.
♦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
“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
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