Stephen Ukandu, Umuahia
The decision by a group of South-East former governors to rally behind Bola Ahmed Tinubu for a second term has not merely stirred controversy; it has exposed a deepening crisis of political direction, identity, and self-respect in the region.
What was announced as a noble gathering of elder statesmen under the South-East Forum of Former Governors has, in the eyes of many, quickly degenerated into a theatre of contradiction. A body that ought to articulate a coherent regional agenda has instead chosen, albeit prematurely and provocatively, to mortgage its voice by endorsing an incumbent, even when the region’s own political aspirations remain unresolved.
At the centre of this storm are familiar names: David Umahi, Sullivan Chime, Ifeanyi Ugwuanyi, Chris Ngige, Okezie Ikpeazu, and others—men who once held the political destiny of the South-East in their hands. Yet, their latest collective outing has raised a troubling question: whose interests are they really serving?
Position sparks controversy
The endorsement has drawn fierce backlash from pro-Igbo groups and public commentators, who describe it as a reckless and self-serving move. The Ohanaeze Youth Council (OYC), led by Igboayaka Igboayaka, declared the ex-governors “persona non grata” in Igboland and called for their social and political boycott, accusing them of “renewed political sabotage” ahead of 2027.
The group said backing Bola Ahmed Tinubu at this stage is not only premature but also insensitive to the region’s economic hardship, insecurity, and perceived marginalisation, including the continued detention of Nnamdi Kanu.
It further questioned the ex-governors’ grassroots relevance, alleging that the alliance was driven by self-preservation and fears of anti-graft scrutiny.
OYC also threatened a “2027 Ballot Revolution” to resist any attempt to impose political choices on the region, vowing to “retire expired politicians” prioritising personal gain over Igbo interests.
Similarly, public affairs analyst Sam Amadi criticised the move as driven by greed and narrow ambition, echoing broader concerns over the role and credibility of the former governors—particularly the surprise presence of Chris Ngige despite his perceived distance from the current administration.
A hasty endorsement, a wounded region
The ex-governors’ justification that the endorsement of Tinubu is a “strategic decision” in the interest of the South-East sounds hollow against the backdrop of glaring realities. Strategy, by definition, is rooted in leverage, negotiation, and timing. What leverage does a region retain when it endorses before bargaining? What negotiation is possible when loyalty is already pledged without conditions?
Notably, many of these former governors were in office when Tinubu, as Lagos Governor in 1999, was building a formidable political structure in Lagos and across the South-West—laying the foundation for his current influence. In contrast, his South-East counterparts, some of whom are masquerading as “regional strategists,” failed to pursue any cohesive regional agenda while in power, only to now invoke “strategic interest” and regional unity after leaving office—an irony that underscores questions about their credibility and intent.
More troubling is the timing. The endorsement comes at a moment when the South-East remains politically bruised and structurally disadvantaged within the Nigerian federation. Across critical sectors—infrastructure, security, federal appointments, and economic investments—the region continues to lag behind its counterparts.
The irony of abandoned ambition
Perhaps the most jarring contradiction lies in the fact that one of the region’s own, Mr Peter Obi, remains a prominent national contender for the presidency. Obi’s rising profile and national appeal across Nigeria represent, for many, a rare moment of political convergence for the South-East—a chance to reinsert itself into the national power equilibrium.
Yet, instead of consolidating this momentum, former governors from the same region have opted to undermine it by openly endorsing a rival candidate.
This is not merely political pluralism; it borders on strategic self-sabotage.
In every other region, political actors—even across party lines—understand the value of collective bargaining when it comes to national power. The South-West rallied behind Tinubu long before his eventual victory. The North has historically negotiated its interests with cohesion and clarity. Why then does the South-East repeatedly fragment at critical moments?
Ngige and the politics of ambiguity
The presence of Chris Ngige at the Enugu meeting has added another layer of intrigue. Once perceived as being sidelined by the current administration, Ngige’s attendance sparked speculation: has he finally aligned fully with the Tinubu camp?
Recall that Ngige, in 2020, during a session of the House of Representatives ad hoc committee convened to deliberate on the suspension of the management of the Nigeria Social Insurance Trust Fund (NSITF), engaged in a heated exchange with a member of the committee from Kogi State, Hon. James Faleke.
In the course of the altercation, Ngige took a swipe at Faleke, saying: “So you are near my age; at least I am seven years older than you. I’m the same age as your mentor in Lagos, Asiwaju. And I was governor with him at the same time. He was a senator; I was a senator. I am a two-time minister; he isn’t a two-time minister.”
At the buildup to the 2023 presidential poll, Ngige also refused to endorse Tinubu as the APC presidential candidate.
The former Minister for Labour and Employment, who appeared on Politics Today, a popular television programme, sidestepped endorsing Tinubu, the then APC presidential candidate.
Ngige had earlier shown interest in the ruling party’s presidential ticket, purchasing the N100 million nomination and expression of interest forms, but later pulled out and continued with his ministerial appointment.
Appearing on Politics Today on Channels Television, Ngige was asked to choose between Tinubu and the Labour Party candidate, Peter Obi. The minister, however, declined to give a direct response.
“I am not active in politics. When I withdrew from the presidential race, I said I was going to face my work. The work is multifaceted and multifarious as I came back,” Ngige diplomatically said.
“I am not in the campaign council, and I don’t want to be. I am doing a national job which is more important than any campaign council. The Vice President and the SGF are not there,” he added.
Political watchers believe that, by those two scenarios, Ngige incurred the ire of Jagaban and his army of loyalists, who have been looking for an opportunity to settle scores with him.
The way and manner in which he was picked up in pyjamas by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), shortly after Peter Obi paid him a courtesy visit, is being interpreted in some quarters as a warning signal that he might have challenged the powers that be.
His subsequent arraignment on corruption charges confirmed fears that Ngige might be in for a turbulent phase, but his presence at the Enugu pro-Tinubu gathering suggests that he may have decided to become a “latter-day apostle” of Jagaban, at least to stay out of trouble for now.
Yet, emerging accounts suggest otherwise. According to critics like Sam Amadi, the endorsement may not have been a unanimous decision. Allegations that Umahi “smuggled” the pro-Tinubu clause into the communiqué paint a picture of internal dissent and procedural manipulation.
If found to be true, it raises serious questions about the credibility of the forum itself. How does a body of former governors—seasoned politicians—allow such a fundamental resolution to pass without consensus? And if Ngige indeed dissented, why was that dissent not made public immediately?
Silence, in politics, is often interpreted as consent.
A backlash from the grassroots
Unsurprisingly, the reaction from across the South-East has been swift and scathing. Political commentators have roundly condemned the endorsement as disconnected from the realities on the ground.
For many, the move reflects a pattern of elite detachment—where political leaders prioritise personal survival and proximity to power over collective regional interest.
The criticism is not merely emotional; it is rooted in lived experience. Businesses grapple with poor infrastructure. Youth unemployment remains high, and the sense of political exclusion persists.
Beyond politics, the structural gaps are glaring. The region still lacks a functional seaport and struggles with underdeveloped rail infrastructure, despite its strong commercial base. Key transport corridors remain neglected, and a heavy security presence, often marked by multiple extortion points—sorry, checkpoints—continues to disrupt economic and social life. There is no functional international airport in the region, which arguably accounts for over 70 per cent of Nigeria’s traders and business community. For many residents, these realities reinforce a long-standing sense of marginalisation and exclusion.
Federal presence in strategic economic assets is minimal. Even representation at the highest levels of governance remains disproportionately low. Yet, in the face of these realities, its former leaders have chosen applause over advocacy.
What moral justification do these former governors offer in defending the continued detention of Nnamdi Kanu—widely seen by many in the region as a symbol of agitation for equity—while the same system extends leniency to armed groups under the guise of rehabilitation? The contradiction deepens when placed alongside the South-East’s limited presence in the federal cabinet, where representation remains comparatively low.
Against this backdrop, an unconditional endorsement of the status quo feels, to many, like a betrayal.
The deeper question: what does the South-East want? Beyond the personalities and the politics lies a more fundamental question: what exactly is the South-East’s strategic objective in Nigeria’s evolving political landscape?
Is it integration or autonomy? Negotiation or alignment? Resistance or accommodation?
Without a clear, unified agenda, the region risks drifting—reacting to national currents rather than shaping them.
This is where the failure of the former governors becomes most pronounced. Having held power for years, they are uniquely positioned to articulate a long-term vision for the region. Instead, their first major collective act has been to endorse an external candidacy without extracting visible concessions.
That is not strategy—it is surrender.
Lessons unlearned
History offers sobering lessons. Political loyalty in Nigeria has rarely guaranteed protection or reward. Former allies have fallen out of favour. Once-powerful figures have faced prosecution and political isolation despite their alignment with the centre.
The experiences of past leaders from the South-East—who aligned with dominant power blocs only to later face political and legal challenges—should serve as cautionary tales. Endorsement, without negotiation, is not influence; it is dependency.
Against this backdrop, the endorsement of Bola Ahmed Tinubu appears, to many critics, less like a strategic alignment and more like political capitulation. Why have the Igbo refused to learn? Figures such as Rochas Okorocha, Orji Uzor Kalu, and Chimaroke Nnamani once aligned with central power, yet such loyalty did not ultimately shield them from political or legal storms.
A call for recalibration
The South-East stands at a crossroads. With 2027 on the horizon, the region must decide whether it will continue its pattern of fragmented engagement or chart a more cohesive path.
This requires courage from its leaders—past and present—to prioritise regional interest over personal calculation. It demands honest conversations about marginalisation, representation, and economic inclusion. And above all, it calls for strategic patience—the discipline to negotiate from a position of unity rather than rush into premature alliances.
The former governors’ forum, if it is to have any relevance, must rethink its approach. It must move beyond symbolic meetings and ambiguous communiqués to become a platform for genuine advocacy.
Anything less would confirm the fears already echoing across the region: that those once entrusted with leadership have chosen convenience over conviction. And in politics, as in history, such choices rarely age well.
