For more than two decades, Imo State has carried a peculiar political burden. Since the return to civil rule in 1999, no sitting governor has managed to determine who succeeds him. Each outgoing administration has tried, and each has failed. Not because succession is impossible in theory, but because Imo politics has proven uniquely hostile to handovers that appear choreographed, arrogant, or poorly negotiated.

From HE Achike Udenwa to HE Ikedi Ohakim and HE Rochas Okorocha, the pattern has been consistent: elite revolt, federal recalibration, party implosion, or popular backlash. In Imo, power does not flow neatly from one hand to another. It is wrestled for.

The story begins with HE Achike Udenwa, whose era best illustrates how internal fractures and federal politics can neutralise a sitting governor. Governing under a dominant PDP at the national level, Udenwa assumed party supremacy would translate into obedience at home. Instead, his tenure was defined by a brutal internal split. The party divided between a grassroots-oriented bloc loyal to the governor and a powerful Abuja-facing faction populated by heavyweights with direct access to federal influence.

That internal war intensified when HE Udenwa aligned himself with then Vice President Atiku Abubakar during the latter’s open confrontation with President Olusegun Obasanjo. The response from the centre was swift and decisive. Federal support shifted away, party control slipped from the governor’s hands, and Udenwa found himself isolated at the very moment succession mattered most. His preferred successor Chief Martin Agbaso saw his victory at the polls cancelled by Abuja powerful forces led by the then INEC chairman an Imo son. By the end of his tenure, the governor still held office but no longer held power.

HE Ikedi Ohakim’s rise and fall followed a different logic but ended in the same destination. He came into office through elite engineering and federal alignment, yet never succeeded in consolidating popular trust. His administration became overwhelmed by controversy and sustained elite hostility. Allegations, narratives, and public disapproval combined to drown governance itself. By the time re-election arrived, Ohakim was politically alone. Once the electorate turned its back, the idea of succession became irrelevant. In Imo, a governor fighting for survival cannot plan continuity.

HE Rochas Okorocha appeared, at first, to have cracked the code. Charismatic, flamboyant, and deeply resourced, he built a powerful structure that cut across party lines and grassroots loyalties. By his second term, he looked invincible. Then he overreached. His attempt to project his son-in-law as successor transformed public perception overnight. What might have been tolerated as ambition was widely interpreted as an attempt to convert public office into family property.

The reaction was swift and ruthless. Political elites, many of whom had benefited from Okorocha’s rise, turned against him. Zoning grievances amplified the anger, as both outgoing governor and intended successor hailed from the same zone. The revolt was not ideological; it was strategic. Elite interests aligned with popular resentment, and Okorocha’s once-feared structure collapsed from within. His failure was a reminder that in Imo, political strength can evaporate the moment arrogance replaces consultation.

It is against this long history of failed transitions that the present moment must be assessed. HE Hope Uzodimma operates in a fundamentally different context from his predecessors. Unlike Udenwa, he enjoys firm alignment with the federal centre. Unlike Ohakim, he has survived repeated electoral tests and opposition litigation. Unlike Okorocha, he has avoided overt attempts to anoint a successor or personalise the process.

Uzodimma’s political method has been less theatrical and more methodical. Opposition figures have been weakened through defections, co-option, or strategic irrelevance. Party structures are tightly controlled, and internal dissent has been managed before it could crystallise into rebellion. The ruling party in Imo today is not factionalised in the way the PDP once was.

Perhaps most significantly, the introduction of the Charter of Equity has altered elite behaviour. By reopening the zoning conversation and throwing both Owerri and Okigwe zones into intense positioning, the governor has effectively decentralised ambition. Competing camps are now more focused on negotiating advantage within the system than organising resistance against it. In the process, the energy that once fuelled elite conspiracy has been redirected into intra-elite competition.

Equally important is what Senator Uzodimma has not done. He has not floated names. He has not paraded heirs. He has not signalled entitlement. This restraint has denied potential rivals a clear target and prevented the early formation of a broad anti-succession alliance. In Imo politics, silence can be a strategy.

Electoral outcomes under his watch reinforce this advantage. Successive elections, including governorship contests and legislative by-elections, have tilted decisively in favour of his camp. His political machinery has proven efficient, disciplined, and ruthless when required. Appointments and influence have been distributed in a way that keeps major blocs invested in the existing order rather than plotting its collapse.

Still, Imo’s political history warns against complacency. Loyalty in the state is transactional, not sentimental. Ambitions suppressed for too long can explode. A poorly balanced succession choice could still trigger elite backlash, even from within the ruling party. Voter apathy, now deeper than in earlier cycles, adds another layer of unpredictability.

Yet, for the first time since 1999, the conditions exist for a sitting governor to shape the outcome of succession rather than be consumed by it. There is no dominant opposition figure, no unified elite rebellion, no clerical mobilisation, and no visible hostility from Abuja. Whether this moment becomes historic will depend on one factor Imo governors have consistently underestimated: restraint.

In Imo, succession is never a coronation. It is a negotiation. If Hope Uzodimma understands this truth and manages the process with balance, patience, and political humility, 2027 may finally mark the end of a long-standing political curse.

Oblong@60 lecture series

By. Hon. Chima Nnadi-Oforgu
Duruebube Uzii na Abosi

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