24 February, 2026
by Mohammed Bello Doka
Imagine a nation forged in the fires of a brutal civil war, where one of its most enterprising peoples—the Igbos—emerged scarred yet unbroken, resilient yet perpetually distanced from the nation’s highest seat of power. More than half a century later, as Nigeria’s informal rotational presidency oscillates between North and South, and in practice between Hausa-Fulani and Yoruba leadership, the South-East remains a conspicuous void on the map of national leadership. Is this merely coincidence, or an enduring echo of historical wounds left unhealed? And if rotation was conceived to bind a fractured federation, why has it failed to embrace one of Nigeria’s tripod nationalities?
The Igbo story is, at its core, a Nigerian story of courage, reinvention and patriotism. From the ashes of the civil war, they rebuilt homes, cities and fortunes without state patronage, transforming adversity into enterprise and diaspora excellence admired across continents. Markets in Lagos, Kano and Abuja pulse with Igbo commerce; industries in Aba and Nnewi testify to indigenous ingenuity; families across Nigeria attest to Igbo investments that uplift local economies. Yet, despite these immense contributions to national cohesion and prosperity, political exclusion from the presidency has persisted—deepening perceptions of structural inequity in resource allocation, state creation and federal appointments.
The imbalance is stark: the South-East has only five states compared to six or seven in other zones, diminishing both its electoral weight and share of federal resources. Over time, this disparity has fed alienation and amplified secessionist rhetoric. When communities already grappling with perceived marginalization face recurring political exclusion, the embers of discontent inevitably glow brighter. Recent sit-at-home disruptions in the South-East—initially declared in solidarity with traders and later rescinded—underscore how fragile socio-economic life becomes when political belonging feels uncertain. Would not a credible pathway to an Igbo presidency calm such tensions, restore faith in Nigerian federalism, and reaffirm that every component of the federation truly belongs?
For the Igbo nation, the presidency is not merely a prize of power; it is a question of belonging—of recognition after sacrifice, of healing after loss, of equal citizenship after decades of perceived exclusion. It is about telling every Igbo child that the Nigerian dream is theirs without qualification. It is about closing the last psychological chapter of the civil war by demonstrating, in the most visible way, that no tribe is destined to remain on the margins of national leadership.
Yet the responsibility for realizing this aspiration is shared. The Igbo political class has sometimes faltered in building durable bridges across Nigeria’s complex power architecture. The electrifying momentum behind Peter Obi’s 2023 candidacy awakened unprecedented hope across the South-East, but it also revealed the limits of a largely regional surge in a nation where broad coalitions determine outcomes. Alliances rooted primarily in sentiment or minority arithmetic proved fragile under entrenched ethnic and partisan pressures. Political strategy in Nigeria has always required expansive negotiation across regions and interests; without such depth, even the most inspiring candidacy struggles to cross the final threshold.
Today, shifting party alignments in the South-East raise further strategic questions. With several governors already in the APC fold and others rumoured to be edging closer, the region risks subsuming its long-term presidential quest within short-term partisan calculations. Aligning with a ruling party led by a Southern president whose tenure must return power northward could deliver immediate patronage, yet leave the deeper aspiration unresolved. Compounding these anxieties are persistent political speculations that President Bola Tinubu, if he secures two terms, is quietly nurturing a Northern successor who could later facilitate a return of presidential power to the South-West—potentially paving the way for his son’s future ascent. Observers point to the growing concentration of influence around the City Boy Movement, reportedly coordinated by his son, as indicative of an emerging succession architecture that could further postpone South-East aspirations if present alignments remain unchallenged. History shows that zones secure the presidency not by proximity to incumbency alone, but by negotiated consensus across Nigeria’s major blocs.
Here lies a moral and political appeal to the Northern establishment—the decisive pillar in Nigeria’s power equation. Equity, justice and national stability demand that the presidency rotate to the South-East in the same spirit it was micro-zoned to the South-West in 1999 after the annulment crisis, and again in 2023 to preserve regional balance. Those decisions were not acts of charity but statesmanship: recognition that inclusion strengthens the federation and exclusion endangers it. Extending the same logic to the Igbo nation would not diminish Northern influence; rather, it would cement the North’s legacy as custodian of Nigeria’s unity and fairness.
An Igbo presidency would not be an ethnic concession but a national investment. It would harness Igbo enterprise and global networks for Nigeria’s collective advancement, deepen trust in federal institutions, and disarm the rhetoric of marginalization that agitators exploit. It would signal that Nigeria’s famed tripod—Hausa-Fulani, Yoruba, Igbo—stands balanced and complete. And for the North, partnering in such a transition would secure enduring goodwill from a region whose commercial and social ties already knit the country together.
Global experience affirms that durable inclusion arises not from agitation alone but from negotiated accommodation. Minority groups that achieved lasting political influence did so through alliances that reassured majorities while advancing legitimate claims. The path before the South-East therefore lies in strategic national coalition-building—sustained engagement with Northern leaders, cross-regional political pacts, and a compelling vision that frames an Igbo presidency as a stabilizing national consensus rather than a sectional demand.
As 2027 approaches, Nigeria stands at a defining crossroads. Will rotational presidency mature into genuine equity embracing all zones, or remain a selective principle that perpetuates silent exclusion? For the Igbo nation, the question carries generational weight: whether to continue waiting at the margins of a rotation that never quite arrives, or to forge alliances that finally translate contribution into leadership.
For Nigeria, the answer will shape the republic’s future cohesion. And for the North, history offers a profound opportunity—to affirm, once more, that justice shared is unity secured. If Nigeria truly wants the Igbos then let the Presidency rotates Igboward.
Akace da kare ana biki a gidanku yace to in gani a kasa.
Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
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Opinion