By Chinenye Nwaogu
The concept of the “state” as an organized political community governed by a constitution or set of rules is an ancient idea. Philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau have all contributed to the understanding of the state’s origins, purpose, and structure. For Plato, the state was a moral organism designed to promote justice and virtue. Aristotle saw it as a natural institution created to enable the good life. In contrast, Hobbes envisioned the state as a mechanism to escape the chaos of the “state of nature,” while Locke emphasized the social contract as the foundation of legitimate governance.
At its core, the state exists to provide security, justice, and prosperity through an agreed set of laws—what we now recognize as a constitution.
In a nation-state like Nigeria, the constitution functions as the supreme legal framework—the foundational document that governs all political, economic, and social interactions. It defines government powers, outlines institutional responsibilities, guarantees rights, and establishes the national identity.
However, Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution (as amended)—a document drafted under military rule and handed to a democratic society—has long been criticized as flawed, lacking legitimacy, inclusiveness, and the practical relevance needed to address the country’s complex sociopolitical realities.
Despite more than two decades of democratic governance, constitutional amendments have largely been superficial—symbolic rather than substantive. These efforts have often been driven by political elites who benefit from the very dysfunction the constitution sustains. Genuine reform poses a threat to their unaccountable power, access to public wealth, and ability to manipulate weak institutions.
As a result, amendment processes have tended to be cosmetic—tinkering at the margins while avoiding the core structural issues. In many cases, they have become opportunities to “create jobs for the boys,” sign off on self-serving projects, and manufacture the illusion of legislative productivity—only to leave the substantive work to future parliaments.
One long-standing issue at the center of Nigeria’s nation-building debate is state creation. Since independence in 1960—with three regions—Nigeria has expanded to 36 states. This clamor for new states has typically been rooted in demands for political inclusion, administrative convenience, identity recognition, and regional development. While state creation has, in some instances, reduced ethnic marginalization and brought government closer to the people, it has also promoted rent-seeking, increased bureaucracy, and failed to deliver significant improvements in governance or development outcomes.
Nevertheless, the demand for new states remains particularly strong in the South East, which has only five states—the fewest among Nigeria’s six geopolitical zones. The Aba State Movement is one such enduring agitation, driven by the need to correct a structural imbalance that places the South East at a political and economic disadvantage.
Aba, a historic commercial hub with deep cultural and economic significance, is well-positioned to serve as the nucleus of a new state. The call for Aba State is not merely about political equity; it is also about harnessing the region’s human and material resources for targeted, sustainable development.
Yet the movement has faced significant challenges—partly due to a lack of political reach, internal disunity, and an unfortunate narrative pushed by some that “Aba is no man’s land.” These internal and external factors have weakened the push for statehood despite Aba’s clear economic and cultural qualifications.
However, it is important to recognize that state creation, while symbolically powerful, is not a silver bullet. Many of Nigeria’s existing 36 states are economically unviable, relying almost entirely on federal allocations for survival. This speaks to the fragility of Nigeria’s pseudo-federal structure, where states function more like administrative appendages of the central government rather than autonomous units with the capacity to generate and manage their own revenues.
The Aba State agitation must therefore be situated within a broader national discourse on restructuring. Nigeria must evolve into a true federation—one where federating units have constitutional authority over their resources, development strategies, and governance systems. States should compete based on merit, innovation, and internal capacity—not on political patronage or oil revenue distribution.
Creating Aba State, while desirable for reasons of equity and representation, will not resolve Nigeria’s foundational governance issues unless it is part of a deeper, holistic constitutional reform agenda. What Nigeria needs is not just more states, but a complete restructuring of the federation to devolve power, promote local governance, and ensure justice and fairness in the distribution of national resources.
The most urgent constitutional amendment Nigeria requires is one that transforms the country into a functional, inclusive, and efficient federation. This is the expectation of millions of patriotic Nigerians—that President Bola Tinubu, a long-standing advocate of true federalism, will seize this historic opportunity to reset Nigeria for good and earn his place as the father of a “Modern Nigeria.”
A restructured Nigeria will give every component—whether state, region, or ethnic group—a genuine stake in the union. It is only in such a reimagined federation that new states like Aba can thrive and contribute meaningfully to national development, rather than becoming just another burden on an already overextended system.
The dream of a new Nigeria will remain elusive unless we confront the structural defects in our constitution and political architecture with honesty, courage, and a sincere commitment to justice and equity.
Chinenye Nwaogu is an Abia-based public affairs analyst.
