By Valentine Obienyem
Recently, the Governor of Anambra State, Prof. Charles Chukwuma Soludo, made a remark during his campaign that stirred quite some debate. He said, with his usual abandon, that anyone claiming they would serve only one term “needs their head examined.” I had several heated arguments with people over that statement. I was among those who firmly believed that he was not referring to Mr. Peter Obi. Even in conversations with my boss, I held the same position. I pointed to the context in which the statement was made and concluded that Governor Soludo was directing his comment at other gubernatorial candidates from his own zone, not at Obi.
As usual, during this debate, Obi presented a powerful argument. He questioned the logic behind the statement. When I suggested that it was merely a logical weapon against his gubernatorial opponents, the philosopher in Obi came alive: “Val, of what use is his logic, if its syllogisms are but a dishonest disguise of his secret hopes – the hope built upon the belief that, with that statement, Nigerians would think I never truly meant the four-year proposition? Why should people judge others by their own shifting principles?”
One can hardly listen to Obi without feeling the pull of conviction – though I remained unconvinced, I have always admired the calm confidence with which he wields a mind that cuts like a laser through the shams and delusions of his time. He pierces beneath speeches and surface gestures to expose the intent that lies beneath. This clarity of thought and moral precision may explain why his opponent, the subject of this discourse, remains imprisoned in a heritage of hate – a condition that has doomed him to repeated errors, as seen in what later proved to be a veiled jab at Obi. Despite all Obi has endured, few believe that Soludo would not have left him alone by now. If not for Obi’s organic supporters, that government would likely have attempted to destroy him with a new falsehood every single day, fed to the public. What, then, is Soludo’s problem? Perhaps it is the quiet anguish of watching Obi rise like Apollo among the luminaries of his generation.
The final and most damning proof that the veiled jab was aimed squarely at Obi came in the form of a recent article titled Inherent Subterfuge in Taking One-Term Promise Seriously. In this carefully choreographed piece, Dr. Law Mefor, Soludo’s own Commissioner for Information, delivers more than a critique; he offers an indictment of integrity itself. He assails the growing tendency, especially pronounced in political theatre, where candidates pledge to serve but a single term. Such promises, he argues, are subtle instruments of guile – crafted to deceive the trusting voter, or to lure short-sighted allies into fleeting coalitions. In his words, the vow is a ruse: a mask worn by ambition to seduce and betray.
To grasp the full tenor of Soludo’s political reasoning, one must examine the apologetics advanced by his closest defenders, Mefor wrote: “History is replete with leaders who promised to respect the democratic ethos of term limits, only to end up as lifetime presidents. The Third Term project is recent history in Nigeria. Things are easier said than done.” Like a weary sophist invoking the laws of human frailty, he adds:“There is hardly any politician that can swear that after using two years to settle into office, he would use the remaining two years to do any quantum of work and leave behind legacy projects before stepping down.”
What do we say to the foregoing? This is a clear case of selective bias. He recalls the historical record of men who broke political promises but fails to acknowledge those who remained steadfast, even when the entire world seemed to oppose them. His write-up merely exalts expediency and ridicules moral resolve. It advances a philosophy of disillusionment – suspicious of virtue, dismissive of integrity, and hostile to the audacity of principle. It imagines leadership not as a moral calling, but as a theatre of schemes, where greatness is a liability and promises are burdens to be managed or broken. Such a view, practical though it may appear to the tactician or the pragmatist, is ultimately corrosive to the soul of a nation.
Against this, and especially at this critical stage in the country’s development, emphasis should be placed on a philosophy that insists honour in public life is not only possible but necessary. Dr. Mefor’s article treats public office as an end in itself, immune to the leavening influence of principle. He scoffs at the idea that any leader might mean what he says or fulfil what he promises. His thesis amounts to a quiet surrender to the very rot he claims to diagnose. In casting doubt on the one-term commitment, he does not merely challenge a policy preference, he undermines the very possibility of ethical leadership. Has he forgotten that it was one of those proclamations – zoning – which Obi honoured while others flouted, that made it possible for his master to become governor?
He argues that a one-term promise is a subterfuge, a convenient ruse, or at best, a romantic idealism ill-suited to the gritty pragmatism of Nigerian politics. But this overlooks the fact that the lifeblood of reform liesprecisely in such audacious commitments, in the voluntary restraint of ambition, in the radical refusal to convert public office into a private fiefdom.
What Nigeria needs today is extraordinary leadership, leadership capable of doing things differently, to the point where the citizen may finally exclaim: “Ah, he is truly different in every way.” While Obi insists that this is possible, Mefor remains fixated on what is, and believes that it must inevitably continue. Would such a person also believe that, with the right leadership, the problems of the country, including corruption, can be overcome?
Nations, like men, rise or fall not by the number of years their rulers spend in office, but by the moral weight of their decisions. Abraham Lincoln served one full term (and was re-elected before being tragically cut down); yet few would dispute that he shaped America more profoundly than many who ruled for eight. James K. Polk, another American president, promised to serve only one term – and did. He achieved all his major policy goals within four years and quietly withdrew from the stage. Cincinnatus of Rome, called from his plough, led the republic in a time of crisis and then returned to obscurity – a gesture that moved even the hardened cynics of Roman politics.
Contrast this with the obsessive clinging to office that typifies much of Africa’s postcolonial leadership. In Nigeria, what has longevity brought us? What fruit has been borne from extended tenures? Corruption calcified. Reform deferred. Vision dimmed. Power, like milk, curdles when left too long on the throne. As Lord Acton warned, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” The point is simple: a failure remains a failure, even if granted a lifetime in power. Bad governance is not cured by tenure extension – it is compounded by it. Giving more time to the unprepared is like giving more rope to a man already hanging himself. In the same Nigeria where some governors, after eight years, can barely clear roads or pay salaries, others in just four years leave behind legacies of infrastructure, institutional reform, and fiscal discipline.
Dr. Mefor argues that a one-term vow may be broken under “pressure from the zone” or dismissed as unrealistic idealism. But this reduces leadership to mere puppetry – as though governors are marionettes dancing to the tune of their kinsmen. True leadership, however, demands more: the strength to resist not only the temptations of power but also the tribal drums that drown out the national anthem.
To pledge a single term is not “subterfuge”; it is an act of moral courage. It says, “Let me end this chapter with honour, so another region may begin the next with dignity.” In Nigeria’s fragile democracy, zoning was designed not to enshrine mediocrity but to manage diversity. If it is to mean anything, then honouring it must come at a cost – even the cost of personal ambition. A leader who limits himself for the sake of justice is not weak; he is exceptional – especially in a country where public office is too often treated as a right, not a duty.
In the end, history will not remember those who found ten thousand reasons to break their word, but those who kept it – quietly, honourably, and against all odds.
Obienyem, a Lawyer and Media Aide to Peter Obi writes from Awka.
