It is time for Nigerians to take a bold step forward to examine their real identity because the imposition of one could be part of the bigger problem with the country. Many African countries, upon gaining independence, changed the names given to them by their colonial masters to something more authentic, more African, and more meaningful. The Gold Coast became Ghana. Dahomey became Benin Republic. Upper Volta became Burkina Faso. Nyasaland became Malawi. Tanganyika and Zanzibar merged to become Tanzania. These and similar nations understood that names have power in themselves and that they shape identities and destinies of people and nations. Therefore, Nigerian political leaders should begin to consider such a transformation. Not that a name change would solve all the problems, but it would have a mental and psychological effect on how citizens value themselves and moreover, how they can relate with Britain, their former colonial master. It could symbolize a psychic rebirth of the people and their value culture, a conscious effort to redefine who they are and what they actually stand for.
That names are powerful cannot be swept under the carpet by the people of Nigeria. If we can imagine a world without names, that is what it would look like. You wouldn’t be able to identify people or places. You wouldn’t be able to buy or sell anything without a name, or even communicate effectively. That is how fundamental names are. They give meaning and direction. So, before Nigeria can take any other serious step toward national unity, perhaps the lawmakers should consider passing a bill that replaces the colonial name “Nigeria” with one that reflects their collective identity and aspirations. Such a move would usher into the society a psychological and mental restructuring of the minds of the people that would possibly be necessary to precede political and economic reforms.
Thinking of reforms: the proponents of a New Nigeria are not directly or actually calling for a reshuffling of leadership or a change of faces in Aso Rock. What they are advocating is a more fundamental restructuring of how political authority is exercised in the country. They argue that both economic and security authority should be divested from the unitary command structure in Abuja so that true political power can flow from the people to the Presidency, and not from the Presidency to the people. That, simply, is called democracy.
The current arrangement is like trying to build a house from the roof downward. But nations are not built that way. Nation-building is like building a house, and it must begin from the foundation. In Nigeria’s case, that foundation is the people and their simple needs like clean drinking water, affordable healthcare, good schools, good roads from rural farms to urban consuming areas, decent market stalls and so on. But, amazingly, the system continues to prioritize the top over the foundation. Year after year, budgets are crafted to service the needs of the President first, then the Vice President, then governors, ministers, and finally, local council officers before trickling down to the common citizens. This inverted hierarchy of priorities ensures that the common needs of the people are perpetually neglected. And so, schools remain underfunded. Public medical centres become shadows of what they ought to be. Industrial actions continue to paralyze the educational sector. Meanwhile, insecurity which manifests itself in kidnapping, banditry, cultism, and extrajudicial killings become the new normal. Nigerians continue to live in fear, most nights sleeping with both eyes wide open. Who is to be blamed?
Since 1970 when the Nigerian civil war ended, the northerners have continued to dominate the country’s political leadership with Yakubu Gowon, Murtala Mohammed, Ibrahim Babangida, Sani Abacha, Abdulsalami Abubakar, Shehu Shagari, Musa Yar ‘Adua and Muhammadu Buhari as Presidents. Still there has been no meaningful progress in the social life of the northerners who keep complaining that their people are more backward in social life than the other ethnic components. Out-of-school children are in millions. Teenage marriages are still prevalent. Insecurity has become the cultural norm as young-adults soak their lives in dangerous drugs. Healthcare scarcely gets to the ordinary citizens who need it most. Millions of people are rendered refugees in their own country by insurgents and bandits. Yet, in these years, northerners have produced nine Presidents who have collectively ruled the country for thirty-six years and six months. The westerners followed suit with Olusegun Obasanjo, Ernest Shonekan and currently Ahmed Bola Tinubu. The westerners have produced three Presidents who cumulatively have ruled for thirteen years and six months. The south-south has produced one President who ruled for five years. The south east, on the other hand, has produced no one at all.
These figures clearly show a troubling imbalance in the leadership structure of a country that prides itself on being a federation of equal partners. The issue raises the question that has echoed across Nigeria’s political landscape for decades: why have the Igbo people, who are bona fide Nigerians and one of the tripod tribes that make up the country, not yet been given the opportunity to lead?
At the heart of this question lies something deeper than politics, something about trust. The supposed fear of Igbo domination is, in reality, an admission that the Igbo are not trusted by other ethnic groups. If that is really the case, if trust among the components of the nation has irretrievably broken down, then the politicians must pause and reflect on the future they are trying to build. How can a nation progress when one of its major tribes is treated as an outsider in its own home? How can there be peace when justice is blatantly being denied a section of the country?
These questions go beyond mere sentiment. They speak to the soul of a country that is still struggling to find its balance, national unity, and justice for all its citizens. Many people who claim to be on the side of fairness often ask this same question as though opportunity is what the Igbo need. In actual fact, the real question should be: are Nigerian political parties keeping faith with their zoning arrangements that were designed to ensure equity, peace, and inclusive governance?
Most of the political parties in Nigeria adopted the zoning system. The system was meant to rotate key political offices among the different geopolitical zones of the country, so that no group feels alienated or perpetually marginalized. The concept of zoning was not designed to undermine meritocracy. Instead, it was introduced to encourage inclusiveness and to foster a sense of national belonging among the diverse ethnic nationalities in the country. Unfortunately, what we see today is a deliberate neglect of this policy by those who should uphold it.
Zoning was designed to guarantee political stability among the various ethnicities, but instead, what Nigerians keep witnessing is its manipulation for selfish aggrandizement by unscrupulous politicians at the cost of national integration. Parties proclaim zoning during their campaigns but abandon it when they acquire power and influence. Curiously, they use zoning as a political mantra, not a binding principle. In doing so, they continue to make a mockery of their own constitutions as they betray the very essence of democracy.
It is important to understand that the problem is not with the policy itself but with those who are supposed to implement it. If Nigeria’s political parties were faithful to their own zoning formulae, the question of “giving the Igbo a chance” would never arise. The zoning principle should automatically ensure that when it is the turn of a particular region, the others support that region in the spirit of fairness. That is what equity demands. That is what justice requires. If the parties had followed their own internal decisions, the Igbo would by now have had their turn to lead Nigeria. Instead, every election cycle brings new excuses and manipulations. The same political class that speaks loudly about fairness and inclusion during campaigns suddenly goes mute when it is time to act. They find convenient reasons to alter the zoning arrangement, often citing “national unity” as the pretext when in reality, it is the lack of adherence to zoning that is giving the country a bloody nose.
The failure to obey zoning agreements also fuels insecurity. When a section of the country feels perpetually marginalized, resentment begins. And then, it grows. The resentment translates into agitation, and agitation, when ignored or suppressed, leads to social instability. If justice is done, peace follows naturally. But when injustice persists, no amount of military power or security budget can guarantee lasting peace. True security flows from a genuine sense of belonging from every group that knows the system treats them with fairness and respect.
The political class must be reminded that nation-building is not a game of convenience. Zoning was conceived as a bridge of understanding between regions and ethnicities. It was meant to foster unity by ensuring that every part of the country shares in the leadership of the federation. To abandon it at any time, or to manipulate it for personal gain, is to destroy the bridge that holds Nigeria together. If the political parties are serious about building a stable and peaceful nation, they must begin by respecting their own rules. Zoning should not be a token promise or a campaign strategy. It should be an inviolable commitment. When it is the turn of a zone, the others should give their full support, not out of pity but out of recognition that unity can only be built on justice.
When political parties honour their zoning formulae, they also strengthen democracy. Citizens will begin to believe again that fairness is possible in Nigeria. They will begin to see that hard work, loyalty, and participation can yield positive results. But when zoning is abandoned, it sends a dangerous message: that only the powerful matter, that agreements mean nothing and can be broken for any flimsy reason, and that the weak have no place in the system. Such a message breeds cynicism, apathy, and eventually, disintegration.
Justice for the South East cannot be charity. It requires respect for the rule of law and for political agreements that were freely entered into. The Igbo people are not begging for an opportunity, they are believing in fairness. If the political parties adhere to their zoning arrangements, their turn will naturally come. And when it does, they will take their rightful place in the leadership of the country and showcase what they are capable of doing to uplift their fellow citizens. But if for any reason their turn is deliberately upturned, then the message becomes clear—that they are not wanted. And when a people realize they are not wanted in a union, history teaches that they will inevitably begin to consider alternatives.
Nigeria stands at a crossroad. The path of justice leads to unity, peace, and progress. The path of injustice leads to disintegration. The choice belongs to Nigerian political leaders. Political parties must decide whether they want to continue playing politics of deceit or to embrace politics of inclusion. They must decide whether they want to be remembered as the generation that destroyed Nigeria or the one that rebuilt it. The time to act is now that the 2027 elections are round the corner. Let zoning mean something again. Let justice flow like a river, and fairness like an ever-present stream. Only then can we truly say that Nigeria belongs to all of us.
Chief Sir Asinugo, PhD., M.A., KSC writes from the UK
