The political tempest in Rivers State has reached a crescendo with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu invoking Section 305 of the Constitution to suspend Governor Siminalayi Fubara and his 27 political adversaries in the state legislature. In their stead, Rtd Vice Admiral Ibok-Ete Ibas has been installed as an administrator, tasked with steering the affairs of the state for the next six months. Like a seasoned sailor navigating troubled waters, his mandate is not to make laws but to regulate the state’s affairs in the interest of the people. This unprecedented move has ignited a fierce debate across the nation, splitting public opinion into two opposing camps.
To some, Tinubu’s decision is a stabilizing force—a much-needed intervention to prevent the state from descending into absolute chaos. In their eyes, the president has acted as a referee, blowing the whistle before the game turns into a full-blown brawl. They argue that without his decisive action, Rivers State would have become a theater of anarchy, where governance is paralyzed by endless political skirmishes. They see Ibas as a neutral hand on the wheel, ensuring the ship of state does not capsize under the weight of political infighting.
On the other hand, critics view this move as an audacious power grab—an executive overreach that undermines democratic institutions. They argue that suspending an elected governor and lawmakers under the guise of restoring order sets a dangerous precedent. To them, this is not a rescue mission but a conquest; not a balm for peace, but a dagger into the heart of federalism. They liken it to using a sledgehammer to kill a fly—an excessive force that raises more questions than it answers.
Regardless of where one stands in this debate, one thing is certain: Rivers State is at a crossroads. The political gladiators must now decide whether to keep sharpening their swords for battle or to seize this moment for genuine reconciliation. History has shown that political storms, no matter how fierce, do not last forever. The ruins of today can become the foundation of a stronger tomorrow—if only wisdom prevails.
In this defining moment, Governor Fubara must heed the wise counsel of former President Goodluck Jonathan, who once remarked that after every political crisis, the true survivors emerge stronger, battle-tested, and more prepared for leadership. “After this crisis, you will be promoted to a political general,” Jonathan assured him. Indeed, if Fubara plays his cards wisely, history may not remember him for the battles he fought, but for the wisdom with which he emerged from them.
As Rivers State watches and waits, let it be known that power is transient, and leadership is ultimately judged not by how fiercely one fights, but by how skillfully one rebuilds.
To the chief trigger of this political whirlwind, Nyesom Wike, I offer a piece of kindred advice—one rooted not in hostility, but in the wisdom of history. You may sit comfortably in the corridors of power as the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, relishing your political maneuverings, but should you truly celebrate while the democratic structures in your home state lie in ruins? Is it a victory if Rivers State, the land that birthed your political relevance, now stands at the brink of constitutional disarray?
History teaches us that power is as fleeting as the morning mist; it dazzles for a while but fades with the rising sun of reality. Rivers State is not just a battleground for political supremacy—it is the home of millions whose destinies are intertwined with the decisions made by those in power. What legacy will you leave behind if the state you once governed becomes a casualty of unrestrained political ambition?
This interim period should not be seen as a moment of conquest but as a time for sober reflection. Political tides shift, and today’s kingmaker may find himself dethroned by the very forces he helped unleash. Take this pause as an opportunity to reflect on the impermanence of power and the enduring value of statesmanship.
Great leaders are remembered not for how many battles they win, but for how they build and sustain democratic institutions. Rivers State still has a future beyond this crisis. It is not too late to choose legacy over fleeting political victories. The choice, as always, is yours.
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