A Case for Peaceful Separation: Rethinking Nigeria’s Forced Unity

By George Omagbemi Sylvester

For over a century, Nigeria has struggled to hold together the patchwork quilt of nations stitched into a single entity by British colonial interests. Despite decades of independence, national identity remains elusive. Ethnic rivalries, regional marginalization, and economic imbalances continue to tear at the fragile fabric of this artificial federation. While many still advocate unity as a moral imperative, a growing number of Nigerians—both at home and in the diaspora—are beginning to explore an alternative path: peaceful separation.

Contrary to widespread fear-mongering, separation is not synonymous with war. History is replete with examples of nations that have dissolved their unions with dignity and peace. The United States split from Britain in 1776; Belgium separated from the Netherlands in 1830; Singapore parted ways with Malaysia in 1965 over ethnic and religious tensions; and in 1993, Czechoslovakia executed the “Velvet Divorce,” birthing the Czech Republic and Slovakia without a single drop of blood.

On the African continent, Eritrea gained independence from Ethiopia in 1993, and South Sudan emerged from Sudan in 2011. Though not all secessions have been peaceful—Yugoslavia and parts of the former Soviet Union being cautionary tales—the possibility of a negotiated and dignified exit remains viable, especially for countries like Nigeria whose internal contradictions are too numerous and too persistent to ignore.

A Forced Union in Crisis

At the heart of Nigeria’s problem is the failure to evolve from a colonial configuration into a truly federal state. The so-called ethnic groups in Nigeria—Hausa-Fulani, Yoruba, Igbo, Ijaw, Tiv, and others—are not mere “tribes,” as often mislabeled, but full-fledged nations in their own right. In Europe, these groups would be called what they are: distinct nations with different languages, cultures, worldviews, and aspirations.

What unites Nigeria today is not a shared vision but a centralized constitution imposed through military fiat and maintained by successive governments for political expediency. The result is an overburdened federal system where one region’s dominance is perceived—rightly or wrongly—as a source of systemic injustice. The cry for restructuring has been loud and long, but it is now giving way to a more definitive demand: peaceful separation.

Learning from the World

Across the globe, countries have restructured or separated in response to ethnic and economic realities. Norway and Sweden amicably separated in 1905. Iceland left Denmark in 1944. The Soviet Union disintegrated into multiple nations—Ukraine, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Lithuania, and others—based on ethnic lines. Even in modern-day Canada, Quebec retains a high level of autonomy with French as its official language, reflecting its cultural uniqueness.

Switzerland, often cited as a model multi-ethnic state, rotates its presidency annually among representatives of four major linguistic groups: German, French, Italian, and Romansh. Its federation is composed of cantons, each retaining significant autonomy. Nigeria, by contrast, continues to centralize power in a federal government that is neither representative nor responsive.

The Nigerian Paradox
Some still argue that all Nigeria needs is good leadership. But that ignores the structural imbalances hardwired into the country’s political architecture. Even the most competent leader will struggle under a system that rewards ethnic hegemony and punishes regional innovation.

Take the Southeast, for example. The five states—Anambra, Imo, Abia, Ebonyi, and Enugu—have a combined landmass of just 29,525 km², less than that of Kogi State alone (29,833 km²). Niger State, the largest in Nigeria, is bigger than the entire Southwest minus Lagos. Yet policy frameworks continue to treat all regions as though they are equally endowed and equally represented.

The same structural flaw affects economic planning. The so-called cattle colony debate reveals how absurd Nigeria’s policymaking has become. Despite not ranking among the top 20 global cattle producers, Nigeria insists on clinging to archaic methods like open grazing—resulting in violent clashes between farmers and herders. Meanwhile, countries like India, Brazil, and Australia—world leaders in cattle and beef exports—have long adopted modern ranching techniques.

According to global data:

India has over 300 million cattle.

Brazil follows with 226 million.

The USA and EU are also in the top five, with mechanized systems that prioritize productivity and safety.

Yet, in Nigeria, the cattle business has become not just a source of conflict, but a symbol of how far behind the nation is in adopting global best practices.

Separation as Development Catalyst
Separation, if well negotiated, can usher in a new era of healthy competition among Nigeria’s regions. Singapore, after its split from Malaysia, transformed itself into one of the world’s leading economies. Bangladesh, which broke away from Pakistan in 1971, has surpassed its former counterpart in several human development indicators.

What holds Nigeria back is not a lack of human or natural resources, but the illusion of unity under a flawed structure. The political elite preach unity not out of conviction but convenience. They benefit from a system that concentrates wealth and power in the center while denying states the autonomy to thrive or fail on their own merits.

A peaceful separation could enable each region to pursue its developmental vision without interference. The North, with its vast landmass, could become a hub for ranching and renewable energy. The South could focus on industrialization and technology. The East could pursue its vision of commerce and manufacturing. Rather than clashing over a failing center, each region could chart its own path.

The Path Forward
Nigeria must confront its truths. The forced amalgamation of 1914 was never about nation-building—it was about administrative convenience for the British Empire. That colonial logic no longer serves the aspirations of the people.

What is needed now is a national conversation—not driven by fear, but by courage. A conference where all ethnic nationalities, civil society groups, youth representatives, and diaspora voices can negotiate new terms of coexistence. Whether that leads to a restructured federation or an amicable separation, the goal should be justice, peace, and prosperity.

It is not enough to quote slogans like “One Nigeria.” Unity, like marriage, must be consensual. It must be renewed with shared values, mutual respect, and equitable governance. Otherwise, it becomes a prison rather than a partnership.

As the world evolves, Nigeria must evolve too. And if evolution means reconfiguration, then so be it. Let us give peace a chance—not just by tolerating each other under duress, but by honoring each other’s right to self-determination.

Lord of Rivers? Outrage as Sole Administrator Ibas Sacks 23 LG Bosses, Defies Court Summons

In a stunning move that has rocked the political foundations of Rivers State, Sole Administrator Vice Admiral Ibok-Ete Ibas (retd.) is under fire for sacking all 23 local government caretakers and the Chairman of the Rivers State Independent Electoral Commission (RSIEC), barely 24 hours after a Federal High Court ordered him to appear and justify his intended actions.

Ibas, appointed to temporarily steer the state’s affairs following months of political crisis, drew fierce backlash on Wednesday when his administration announced sweeping changes in local governance and state institutions—moves widely described as unconstitutional and reeking of “executive recklessness.”

A Defiant Stroke of Power

Through a statement issued by Secretary to the State Government, Prof. Ibibia Worika, Ibas appointed new administrators across all 23 LGAs and replaced the RSIEC chairman, Justice Adolphus Enebeli (retd.), with Dr. Michael Odey, a relatively unknown figure. Odey will work with six commission members—four of whom are professors—raising eyebrows over the sudden academic-heavy restructuring.

“All appointments take effect from Monday, April 7, 2025,” the statement declared, ignoring the pending court proceedings in suit no. FHC/PH/CS/46/2025, where civic group PILEX Centre for Civic Education Initiative had sought a legal halt to Ibas’s actions.

Court Summons Ignored

Justice Adamu Muhammed of the Federal High Court had, just the day before, summoned Ibas to defend his decision before making any appointments. Yet the ink on the summons was barely dry when the state government released the controversial list of appointees.

Governor Sim Fubara’s Special Adviser on Electronic Media, Jerry Omatsogunwa, condemned the move, calling it “impunity taken to the pro-max level.”

“He’s acting like a lord unto himself. We cannot have that in a democracy,” Omatsogunwa said. “Even the National Assembly has dismissed the budget Ibas claimed he was preparing. That is not the mandate he was given.”

Systemic Overhaul or Power Overreach?

In a series of rapid-fire decisions, Ibas has also:

• Suspended all heads of Ministries, Departments and Agencies (MDAs)

• Cancelled all ongoing procurement and tender processes

• Ordered refunds of all fees paid by contractors

• Appointed new chairmen and members to both the civil and local government service commissions

While Ibas’s camp claims these moves are part of a constitutional cleanup, critics argue they are a flagrant abuse of interim powers and a slap in the face of due process.

Rivers on Edge

Civil society organizations, legal experts, and pro-democracy groups have all weighed in, warning that Ibas’s actions could deepen political instability in the oil-rich state.

“This is a constitutional crisis in motion,” said Courage Msirimovu, lead counsel for PILEX. “When a court summons is ignored, it’s not just a violation of law—it’s an insult to the entire justice system.”

The Bigger Picture

Vice Admiral Ibas was installed during an intense standoff between warring factions within the state’s political structure. But his recent actions have shifted the narrative—from a neutral mediator to what some now label “a rogue overlord.”

With the court case still pending and political tensions escalating, all eyes are on the judiciary—and the streets of Rivers may not remain calm for long.

Why Nigeria Is Failing: The Absence of a True Activist President
By George Omagbemi Sylvester

Since gaining independence in 1960, Nigeria has struggled to fulfill the promises of democracy, good governance, and national development. Despite its wealth of human and natural resources, the country remains shackled by poverty, corruption, insecurity, and inequality. One central reason for this tragic underperformance is that Nigeria has never had a genuine natural activist as president—someone who embodies courage, truth, people-centeredness, and the dogged pursuit of justice.

An activist president is not just a politician with populist rhetoric or a reformist with half-hearted policies. A true activist president is a leader whose political journey is rooted in service, whose conscience is unshaken by power, and whose commitment to the people’s welfare overrides personal ambition. Nigeria, unfortunately, has lacked such a figure at the helm.

The Political Class: Custodians of Self-interest

Most of Nigeria’s post-independence leaders emerged from military backgrounds or elite political families, often disconnected from the struggles of everyday Nigerians. Their primary loyalty lies not with the people but with entrenched interests—godfathers, ethnic power blocs, and foreign partners. As a result, Nigeria has been governed by men who lacked the moral fire and activist instinct necessary to radically confront injustice and reform oppressive structures.

Former president Muhammadu Buhari, for example, came to power in 2015 on a wave of anti-corruption promises, yet presided over one of the most nepotistic, economically disastrous, and divisive administrations in Nigerian history. Under his watch, Nigeria became the poverty capital of the world, inflation soared, and the naira collapsed. Yet, there was no sense of urgency or moral outrage from the presidency. That is not the mark of a natural activist—it is the signature of a career politician insulated from the people’s pain.

What Activist Leadership Looks Like
To understand what Nigeria has missed, we must look at examples of real activism. Take Gani Fawehinmi, the late human rights lawyer and one of Nigeria’s most respected moral voices. Gani stood firmly against military dictatorship, corruption, and human rights abuses. He spent time in jail, faced harassment, and lost personal comforts—all for the cause of justice.

In one of his famous quotes, he said:

“The legal profession is not for those who want to make money; it is for those who want to make a difference.”

Now imagine a Gani Fawehinmi-style figure as president. Would he tolerate the mass looting of public funds? Would he watch silently as universities are shut down, as youths migrate en masse, or as politicians manipulate the constitution for selfish gain? No. His presidency would be a fight for dignity, justice, and the poor.

Another case is Fela Anikulapo Kuti, the Afrobeat legend whose music was a fearless protest against oppression. Though never a politician, Fela had more influence than many presidents. He once said:

“My people are scared of the air around them, they always have an excuse not to fight for freedom.”

Fela’s message still resonates because Nigeria’s leaders govern with fear, not freedom. Fela might not have been president, but his activist mindset is what Nigeria sorely lacks in its highest office.

Activism Today: The Uncelebrated Warriors
Modern-day activists like Aisha Yesufu, a co-founder of the Bring Back Our Girls movement, have continued this tradition. Her iconic image standing in defiance during the #EndSARS protests became a symbol of resistance.

She once remarked:

“We can no longer outsource governance. We must take responsibility. If Nigeria is bad, it is because of Nigerians who allowed it.”

Likewise, Omoyele Sowore, founder of Sahara Reporters and convener of #RevolutionNow, has faced arrest, intimidation, and ridicule for daring to speak truth to power. Though often dismissed by the political elite, his activism exposes the structural rot that elections alone cannot fix.

Sowore once said:

“Real change does not come from people in power; it comes from people who challenge power.”

The Consequences of Activist Absence
The absence of a truly activist-minded president has created a dangerous vacuum—where leadership is reduced to ceremony, governance to contracts, and power to propaganda. Nigeria’s rulers manage crises; they don’t solve them. They placate foreign donors while ignoring the dying masses at home.

Under this docile leadership, corruption has become institutionalized. Security has deteriorated to the point where terrorists and bandits operate with impunity. The youth, the very future of the country, are fleeing in droves. According to the African Polling Institute, over 70% of Nigerian youths expressed a desire to leave the country permanently. This “Japa” syndrome is not just economic—it is psychological. It reflects a deep loss of faith in the leadership.

Why PDP’s Structure Offers Hope
While no political party is perfect, the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) remains the most institutionally democratic structure in Nigeria’s political space. It has internal mechanisms for accountability, broader national appeal, and a history of relatively better economic performance during its years in power.

A committed activist emerging from or supported by such a structure would have a better chance of resisting autocratic tendencies, building coalitions across regions, and enacting pro-people policies. However, such a person must not be swallowed by party interests—they must reform the system from within, not become part of the rot.

What Nigeria Needs Now
Nigeria doesn’t need another technocrat who quotes GDP figures or an ex-general who can’t inspire trust. It doesn’t need recycled political heavyweights with no ideological clarity. What Nigeria desperately needs is an activist president—someone with the fire of Gani, the boldness of Fela, the resilience of Aisha, and the courage of Sowore.

This leader must emerge from the people, not be manufactured by elite consensus. They must be driven not by the perks of office, but by the pain of the people. They must be ready to lose power if it means saving the nation.

Until Nigeria experiences such leadership, the cycle of despair will continue. Elections will come and go, but nothing will change. The problems are too deep for cosmetic solutions. We need a president who is not afraid to call Nigeria’s problems by their real names and confront them head-on.

As Martin Luther King Jr. said:

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

Nigeria’s leadership has been silent for too long. It is time for a voice—a bold, activist voice—to speak and lead us out of the darkness.