By Dr. Omachoko Ukwumonu.
There is something deeply troubling about the growing obsession with ethnic victimhood in Kogi politics. It is becoming too easy for political actors to hide personal disappointments behind tribal rhetoric. Too easy. And frankly, too dangerous.
When an elder statesman like Alhaji Hassan Enape chooses to reduce complex political realities into an Ebira versus Igala narrative, one begins to wonder whether wisdom is now surrendering to bitterness. Because what exactly is the message here? That every political disagreement involving an Igala politician must automatically be interpreted as ethnic persecution?
This is the exact kind of thinking that keeps states backward while a few political merchants continue cashing out from division. Kogi has suffered enough from this tired politics of “our people versus their people.” It is old. It is exhausting. And young people are beginning to see through it.
Take Senator Jibrin Isah Echocho for instance. Let us speak honestly for once. Echocho has spent nearly eight years in the National Assembly. Eight years. In a country where lawmakers practically turn their constituencies into construction sites of influence and visibility, many people in Kogi East still struggle to point at defining legacies attached to his stewardship. That conversation alone should dominate public discourse. Not this emotional blackmail dressed as ethnic solidarity.
The same former Governor Yahaya Bello was one of the major architects of Echocho’s resurrection. Political resurrection, to be precise. Before Bello’s intervention, Echocho was already politically isolated by forces within his own fold, his own very kinsmen. That is the uncomfortable truth many revisionists conveniently skip. Bello brought him back into relevance, elevated his standing, and gave him the platform that eventually made him to be called a Senator today.
Politics runs on negotiation, understanding, and loyalty. Everybody knows this. There was an arrangement. Two terms. Then allow others within the party structure an opportunity. Simple. That is not persecution. That is political succession. It happens everywhere.
So when some people now frame the refusal to perpetually sustain one man’s ambition as “wickedness against the Igala,” it starts sounding less like political analysis and more like emotional manipulation.
And honestly, one question keeps hanging in the air unanswered: Who exactly from Kogi East has occupied a National Assembly seat endlessly without interruption? Even during periods when the state was led by Igala political heavyweights, rotation and internal power balancing still existed. Nobody claimed genocide whenever political tides shifted. That was politics. Raw, sometimes unfair, but politics nonetheless.
This selective outrage is suspicious. Even more disappointing is the unnecessary attempt to drag Chief Edward Onoja into this ethnic theatre. Since when did refusing to publicly insult a former political ally become evidence of weakness? If anything, Edward Onoja’s restraint should be studied. In Nigerian politics where bitterness flows faster than ideology, maintaining decorum after political disagreements is rare. Very rare.
But somehow, to men like Enape, reconciliation is now a crime. That alone tells you how poisoned our politics is becoming. An elder should calm tensions, not manufacture them. He should rise above temporary political frustrations and speak the language of unity. Especially in a state as delicate as Kogi where Ebira, Igala, and Okun destinies are permanently tied together whether politicians like it or not.
The ordinary Ebira man and the ordinary Igala man are not enemies. They trade together. They marry each other. They attend the same schools, bury each other’s dead, celebrate each other’s weddings, and even survive the same economic hardship together. The hatred exists mostly among political elites who need division as oxygen for relevance.
That is why statements like these are reckless. They plant seeds that others may later water with violence. And one must ask respectfully, what legacy does an elder wish to leave behind? The legacy of healing or the legacy of provocation? The legacy of statesmanship or the legacy of ethnic panic?
At some point, age must mean something beyond the number of years spent on earth. It should reflect in moderation. In wisdom. In the ability to de escalate tension even when personal political interests are bruised.
Kogi does not need more tribal sermons. It needs honest leadership. It needs accountability. It needs politicians who can explain their scorecards instead of hiding behind ethnic applause whenever questions arise.
The next generation is watching. Closely. And history can be very unforgiving to those who choose to set fires where they should have built bridges.
– Dr. Omachoko Ukwumonu writes from Anyigba, Kogi State.
