There is a moment in every political season when arithmetic ceases to be abstract and becomes moral. Imo State has reached that moment. By the time Governor Hope Uzodimma lowers the curtain on his constitutionally permitted eight years, Orlu zone would have occupied the Douglas House for a cumulative twenty-four years. That is not a statistic to be explained away; it is a fact that demands ethical reckoning.
Politics, at its most defensible, is not merely about rights but about restraint. Yes, every citizen and every zone is entitled to aspire to any office. That right is inviolable. But wisdom often lies not in what one can do, but in what one ought not to do. In the present Imo context, an Orlu governorship bid after Uzodimma is not illegal; it is simply tone-deaf.
Since 1999, Owerri and Okigwe zones together have managed a paltry four years and seven months. Let that sink in. Two zones, effectively sidelined for a quarter of a century, while one zone enjoys a prolonged incumbency that history will remember as unprecedented. Any honest political conversation must begin from this imbalance.
So, who exactly does an Orlu governorship aspirant intend to persuade? On what moral pedestal would such an ambition stand? In a polity where the public mood unmistakably tilts toward redress and balance, ambition divorced from context quickly mutates into provocation.
It is fashionable to dismiss the Charter of Equity as sentimental politics or elite contrivance. That is a convenient argument for beneficiaries of skewed arrangements. Yet, even those who doubt its juridical force cannot deny its stabilizing logic. Equity is the grammar of coexistence in plural societies; without it, politics degenerates into a contest of raw dominance.
Let it be said clearly. Orlu is not the villain of Imo politics. Far from it. Orlu remains an indispensable pillar of the state. Imo’s political history is unintelligible without Orlu’s imprint, leadership, and sacrifices. But indispensability does not translate into perpetual entitlement.
The irony is that Orlu’s long hold on power was not achieved in isolation. It was enabled, sustained, and legitimized by the goodwill and support of other zones. Votes were cast across Imo, alliances were built, and solidarities were forged. Power, even when zoned informally, is always a collective enterprise.
Reciprocity, therefore, is not charity; it is political ethics. This is the season for Orlu to demonstrate statesmanship by stepping back so that the wheels of balance can turn. Supporting another zone now is not a loss; it is an investment in long-term harmony.
Those who insist that zoning undermines merit miss the point entirely. Equity does not abolish competence; it merely broadens its reach. Every zone has capable hands. What zoning does is ensure that no single group monopolizes opportunity while others are condemned to permanent spectatorship.
If Orlu presses on regardless, it risks isolating itself from the prevailing moral consensus of the state. Politics, after all, is not conducted in a vacuum. It is shaped by perception, sentiment, and shared notions of fairness. Defying these currents rarely ends well.
The wiser path is obvious. Orlu should lead the conversation, not resist it. It should be the loudest voice insisting that Imo belongs to all its zones, not the last defender of a lopsided status quo.
History is unforgiving to those who overstay the moral moment. After twenty-four years, the honourable choice for Orlu is not another grab for power, but a graceful affirmation of equity. In doing so, it will not diminish itself; it will ennoble the Imo project and secure its own place in the state’s political future.
Onyeukwu Writes On His Column “Harvest”
