It is time for Nigerians to confront an inconvenient truth: presidential leadership from the North–Southwest political duopoly has woefully failed our nation. Far from producing a utopia of shared prosperity, unity, and security promised decade after decade, it has instead delivered economic ruin, mass poverty, and social decay. This failure is not because the North or the Southwest lack capable leaders; they have many, but because within this duopoly, a small circle of deeply flawed figures has long dominated the political space.
Of the twelve heads of state, both military and civilian, who have ruled Nigeria since the end of the civil war in 1970, eight have come from the North, three from the Southwest, one from the South-South, and none from the Southeast. The only South-South president, Goodluck Jonathan, ascended to power not through deliberate national consensus but by circumstance, following the death of a Northern president, Umaru Musa Yar’Adua.
The painful truth is that this political duopoly, sustained by the privilege shared among power-intoxicated elites in the North and Southwest, has brought nothing but diminishing returns to Nigerians. It has deepened national divisions and failed to deliver meaningful progress after decades of incompetence, shortsightedness, mismanagement, corruption, and the plundering of our collective wealth.
Paradoxically, even though 11 of the country’s 12 national leaders have come from the North and Southwest, the people of these regions are no better off. As several experts have noted, poverty, illiteracy, insecurity, infrastructure decay, hunger, and suffering, all products of decades of failed leadership, have spared no one.
We all continue to live in darkness without reliable electricity, burdened by high living costs, collapsing education standards, and the absence of functional healthcare. And all this has unfolded while the nation was awash with petro-dollars, a tragic testament to squandered wealth and squandered opportunities.
Whether you are in Aba or Ibadan, Enugu or Uyo, Benin, Jos, Sokoto, or Jalingo, the misery is the same, deep, unrelenting, and national. Every region, state, and village has paid the price for this endless cycle of failure, yet we keep returning to the same well of deceit, choosing from the same pool of leaders who have betrayed us time and again. And now, they are lining up once more for 2027, ready to repeat the same tragedy, if we let them.
Half a Century of Plunder
From 1970 to 2025, under the alternating rule of leaders from the North and Southwest, our governments spent a staggering ₦492.88 trillion, meticulously traced from CBN Statistical Bulletins, national budgets, and military-era financial reports.
Beyond a few bridges in Lagos, the construction of Abuja, and the high cost of a bloated government bureaucracy, along with World War II–era military weapons, where is the evidence of the trillions poured into so-called “development”? What became of education, electricity, roads, hospitals, and security? Are we better off today than we were decades ago?
The truth is bitter: we are worse off. Those trillions were converted into private fortunes. They disappeared into offshore accounts, luxury estates, and political war chests, while millions of our citizens were left to endure poverty, hunger, unemployment, collapsing infrastructure, poor healthcare system, and untimely deaths.
Across the country, the proof of betrayal lies in thousands of abandoned projects, ghost hospitals, and gutted factories, monuments to a governing elite that perfected the art of theft.
Under this North–Southwest duopoly, controlled by the same few individuals, two daylight robberies came to define Nigeria’s economic tragedy:• The 1972 Indigenization Decree was a state-backed transfer of foreign assets to a few well-connected elites, sold cheaply under the guise of “Nigerianization.” It created instant dollar billionaires within the dominant North and Southwest power bloc. • Later waves of privatization repeated the pattern, turning public enterprises in telecoms, oil, mining, and manufacturing into private fortunes through rigged and secret deals. Once again, the same regions benefited while much of the country was excluded from sharing in its own wealth.
These sweetheart deals represent the largest transfer of public wealth ever to a few connected individuals, mainly from the ruling duopoly.
More than five decades later, the result is unmistakable: a hollowed-out economy, a betrayed citizenry, and an elite class enriched by public ruin, all built on the ashes of ₦492.88 trillion in squandered national wealth. None of the culprits are in prison; instead, they occupy public office or are already plotting to become the next president.
Nigeria is not a Kingdom
A wealth of evidence shows there is nothing wrong with ordinary Nigerians, the silent majority. We are resilient, resourceful, and hopeful, even as we allow ourselves to be manipulated by elites who drain the nation’s lifeblood. The real crisis lies not with us but with a small circle of leaders who have consistently failed our country.
These few recycled actors share one defining trait: they emerge from the same North–Southwest duopoly that has ruled for decades. If our nation is to change, we must break this political chain gang and broaden the source of our leadership. Nigeria must look beyond the familiar power blocs to find leaders capable of rebuilding trust, restoring balance, and renewing the nation’s promise.
Our country is not a kingdom owned by a few self-proclaimed inheritors of the throne. It belongs equally to every citizen who still dares to dream of a nation that truly works for all. The false sense of entitlement these ruling cliques display every election cycle has bred mediocrity, complacency, and unaccountability. Power is recycled among familiar hands, failure carries no consequence, and the needs of our citizens remain secondary to the preservation of political and economic self-interest.
It is no surprise that in 2023 Bola Tinubu declared, “It’s my turn,” echoing a long tradition of power as entitlement and inheritance rather than service. The North, meanwhile, already expects power to return to its fold in 2031, if not sooner. In this zero-sum game, the Southeast remains the perpetual spectator, waiting for a turn that never comes.
We cannot expect progress while continuing to elect presidents from the same entrenched and discredited duopoly, even though every region has many competent leaders to offer.
The leaders they have presented have no record of success, only a legacy of failure. Buhari produced Tinubu, and the cycle of failure continues. Like decaying empires where power became hereditary, Nigeria’s duopoly has grown tone-deaf and lost its capacity for renewal.
The question we must now confront is how long we will keep entrusting our future to those who have repeatedly failed to move us forward. It is time to break this cycle, open the political space, and allow genuine inclusion. Our nation deserves the fresh perspective, discipline, and drive of a truly qualified leader—someone capable of steering Nigeria toward the equity, unity, and renewal that decades of recycled failure have denied us.
We Must Go Back to the Future
From independence, Nigeria rested on a three-legged stool composed of the Northern, Western, and Eastern regions, anchored by the Hausa/Fulani, the Yoruba, and the Igbo. This sociopolitical contract represented a careful balance of power and identity. It showed the shared responsibility of the country’s major regions in building the federation. Each region had a voice, and none was meant to dominate the others.
This triopoly provided balance and fairness. It encouraged cooperation, healthy competition, and mutual respect, which were essential for national unity in our multiethnic, multireligious, and multicultural society.
The balance was imperfect but effective. It gave every federating region a sense of belonging and a stake in the national project. Despite its weaknesses, the arrangement helped maintain unity by allowing diverse regions to see themselves as part of a common whole, joined by shared goals and regional freedom.
However, since the Civil War ended fifty-six years ago, that equilibrium has been lost. The stool remains unstable and suboptimal because one leg has been deliberately cut shorter than the other two and weakened. The nation has yet to recover from the deep and enduring adverse consequences that followed.
In cutting the Igbo leg shorter, the federation undermined one of its foundational regions and weakened the entire structure of the nation. What was meant to be a federation of equals has degenerated into domination by a handful of power elites from the North and Southwest.
Presidential zoning, originally conceived as a tool for national balance, has instead evolved into a subtle yet insidious mechanism wielded by political gatekeepers in the two dominant parties, the APC and the PDP, to systematically exclude qualified Igbo presidential candidates and other minority candidates.
This exclusion is not accidental; it is the outcome of an intentional political order carefully maintained by the APC and the PDP, which have treated power as a regional birthright rather than our shared national trust.
It is also the outcome of years of indoctrination, deliberate falsehoods, and insidious propaganda spread by certain elites who have long sought to depict the Igbo as untrustworthy and unpatriotic rebels who, if given the presidency, would exploit it to pursue secession once again.
This reality becomes clearer when we observe what happens each time an Igbo emerges as a serious presidential contender. The ghosts of the past are immediately summoned. Some elites and tribal politicians are quick to brand him a “little Nzeogwu” or “another Ojukwu,” as if competence and ambition in an Igbo man are precursors to rebellion and secession.
Some whisper ominously that an Igbo victory might reopen the wounds of the tragic January 1966 coup, when many distinguished Northern and Western leaders lost their lives. It was a painful chapter in our history, one that still evokes sorrow and reflection. Yet, by invoking that national tragedy to stoke old fears and divisions, some now misuse our collective grief to undermine the hope of a new beginning.
This fear was on full display during Peter Obi’s 2023 campaign. Despite his discipline, integrity, and deliberate effort to build bridges across regions, his message found resistance in the Southwest beyond Lagos and in much of the North outside the North Central region. It was not for lack of merit or message, but because old prejudice and grievance had quietly hardened into political reflex to reject any Igbo candidate.
More insidious still is the slow, corrosive spread of Igbophobia that has taken root since the end of the war, quietly shaping perceptions in ways many refuse to acknowledge. It has evolved into a political undercurrent, subtle, pervasive, and deeply entrenched.
For decades, Igbo politicians seeking national office have spent more time soothing anxieties than articulating vision, bending over backwards to prove they are “safe,” that they belong among the “good” Igbo. Yet passing the good-versus-bad Igbo litmus test set by the two dominant political parties and Northern and Southwestern elites does not guarantee acceptance for any Igbo aspiring to Nigeria’s highest office, the presidency.
A recent survey commissioned by African Mind Journal among citizens in the two dominant power blocs, the North and the Southwest, exposed the deep distrust still shaping our politics and society.
When party affiliation was removed and only ethnicity and qualifications were presented, sharp regional divides emerged. In the North, 78 percent of respondents said they were unlikely to vote for a candidate of Igbo origin, while in the Southwest (excluding Lagos), 70 percent expressed the same view. Each regional sample included 1,000 respondents, yielding a 95 percent confidence level and a ±3 percent margin of error.
The findings reveal how deeply ethnic loyalties still shape our politics. Even without party labels, many voters choose by identity and old grievances rather than merit or vision. This distrust is rooted in long-standing prejudice and decades of manipulation that have kept reconciliation out of reach.
The survey also shows that the greater obstacle lies with the people themselves, many of whom still view the Igbo through outdated stereotypes sustained by misinformation and historical distortions.
To be fair, not everyone shares such views. Many voices from the North and Southwest support an Igbo presidency as a matter of justice and balance, but goodwill has not translated into political courage. The PDP’s brief zoning gesture to the South raised hope, but it quickly faded when the party courted former President Jonathan, proving that power politics continues to outweigh fairness and inclusion.
While the survey paints a grim picture of division, it also points the way forward. Reconciliation must move beyond rhetoric to address inequality, insecurity, and exclusion. Only then can we turn its diversity from a source of suspicion into a foundation for unity.
Honesty also demands balance. Prejudice is not one-sided. Some Igbo, still scarred by Biafra, agitate for secession, harbor mistrust toward others, and sometimes see non-Igbo as enemies, branding every herdsman an unknown gunman or terrorist. Such bitterness, though understandable, mirrors the intolerance that once victimized them. Healing cannot begin if hatred merely changes direction.
For How Long Must the Igbo Wait?
In every political cycle, the Igbo hear the same refrain: “It’s not yet time.” But how long must justice wait? More than half a century after the war, they are still told to prove they belong — to work harder, be more loyal, and stay patient and silent.
As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. warned, “justice too long delayed is justice denied.” The waiting continues, not because the Igbo are unready, but because the nation refuses to confront the prejudice that keeps shifting the goalpost of inclusion.
For decades, the Igbo have been reminded in subtle and blunt ways that their role in shaping Nigeria’s destiny has limits, that trust in them is conditional, and that invisible barriers still block the path to full inclusion. This is not just an Igbo grievance; it is a national failure.
This endless deferral has bred fatigue and quiet despair. Many now see the presidency as a prize deliberately withheld, their pain deepened by the hypocrisy of elites who preach unity while preserving exclusion. Yet a stubborn hope endures — that one day Nigeria will redeem itself by electing a qualified leader who happens to be Igbo as president.
No nation can claim unity while keeping one of its pillars outside the circle of trust. No democracy can mature while an entire people are denied the opportunity to lead. The exclusion of the Igbo is not theirs alone to bear; it is a burden on our collective conscience and a barrier to the Nigeria we all aspire to build.
To move forward, we must confront this injustice not with bitterness but with courage. Inclusion is not a favor; it is a right. Our nation will begin to heal only when every citizen can look upon the flag and see themselves reflected in its promise.
History Offers Clear Lessons
No nation thrives by suppressing its own potential. The United States rose from a brutal civil war only after it fully reintegrated the South into its democratic fabric.
Vietnam rebuilt after decades of bloodshed by reconciling with its southern citizens and diaspora. South Africa, scarred by apartheid, created a political system where every voice, regardless of its past, had a stake in the future.
Indonesia, after Suharto, decentralized power and allowed regions once silenced to find their voice again. And China, long fractured by internal conflict, restored unity through inclusion and shared purpose.
These nations that confronted their wounds grew stronger; those, like Nigeria, that refused have remained haunted and half-awake.
Also, these examples show what Nigeria has yet to understand: reconciliation is not an act of pity but an act of strength. No nation rebuilds by punishing a region into silence. A nation rebuilds by restoring dignity, justice, and a shared sense of purpose to all its people.
Way Forward
Our nation cannot claim true unity or stability until the failed North and Southwest power duopoly is dismantled. A country that excludes a vital part of itself, especially the Southeast, cripples its own progress. Each election and policy that sidelines the Igbo or other marginalized groups weakens us all, draining the talent and creativity that could elevate Nigeria.
Our politics remains trapped by fear and prejudice, stifling the collective intelligence we need to thrive. To move forward, we must restore fairness and equity, confronting the deliberate exclusion that has left our federation fractured and incomplete.
The 2027 elections and beyond offer a chance to correct history. There are many capable Igbo leaders and others who have proven loyalty, competence, and vision. The question is not whether an Igbo can lead, but whether we have the courage to let one do so.
Electing a qualified president from the Southeast is not charity; it is justice, equity, and true federalism in action. It would show that Nigeria can rise above fear and finally heal its oldest wound.
Let 2027 be the year we choose inclusion over prejudice and reconciliation over resentment.
A nation that refuses to heal cannot progress. The time to act is now.
By Nnaoke Ufere, PhD
About the Author
Nnaoke Ufere is a leading voice in African public thought and policy. He writes a weekly opinion column for the African Mind Journal, where his work shapes national conversations on leadership, governance, and reform. He is the author of Covenant With Nigerians: Reversing Our Country’s Decline. Nnaoke graduated from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka with a first class honors degree in Electrical/Electronic Engineering in 1981. A Harvard MBA alumnus and PhD holder in Strategic Management from Case Western Reserve University, Ufere is an influential author, public intellectual, and global development analyst whose insights on U.S.-Africa relations and institutional accountability continue to challenge the status quo and inspire change.
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