Why Ndi Igbo Must Let Go of the Biafran Struggle After 58 Years of Failure

“Now Therefore I, Lieutenant-Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu, Military Governor of Eastern Nigeria, by virtue of the authority, and pursuant to the principles recited above, do hereby solemnly proclaim that the territory and region known as and called Eastern Nigeria together with her continental shelf and territorial waters shall henceforth be an independent sovereign state of the name and title of The Republic of Biafra.“

58 years ago, when Biafra warlord, late Lieutenant-Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu declared these words in his soft but assuring Oxford-schooled English, a sense of inexpugnable attachment, a dream and a cause of undeniable allegiance was born into the gene of Igbos that has been passed down, almost undimmed, for nearly six decades.

His declaration of the establishment of The Republic of Biafra was necessitated by a series of saddening but avoidable political impasses that besieged Nigeria during the first seven years of the country’s independent existence. Without trying to fall into the trap of overly simplifying historical events, it’s important to note that the socio-economic tensions which culminated in that declaration were further amplified by the events of January 15, 1966, when a group of young military officers — most of them of Igbo extraction — led a coup that ended the First Republic. Regarded as an Igbo coup aimed at extending the dominance of the tribe that heretofore was predominant in the Nigerian civil service as of then, a reprisal coup of July 1966 further strained the growing tribal relation between Igbos (which, as of then, was used to encompass all the tribes in Eastern Nigeria), and the rest of the country.

A series of attempts to salvage the total breakdown of relationship between Eastern Nigeria and Nigeria, most notably the Aburi Accord that held in Aburi, a Ghanaian town, failed. Ojukwu, then a billionaire’s son, and Oxford-trained, who was then the Military Governor of Eastern Nigeria, deemed it a matter of survivalhood to sever ties with Nigeria and declared Biafra a sovereign State.

Well, whether that declaration was entirely born out of genuine love and interest in the survival and prosperity of his people or from his ego remains a subject of perhaps an unending debate. But what came from that decision was not only the Nigerian civil war that resulted in the death of over two million of his people, mostly by devastating hunger, but a seed of ‘we don’t belong in Nigeria’, ‘we are the outsiders’, ‘the marginalised’, was sowed into the minds of the average Igbo person, and is being transferred almost unedited to offspring at birth. For 58 years, and for 55 years since the war ended, Igbos have been on the struggle to secede from Nigeria.

Before I go into what I believe is the futility of that struggle, let me retell my own story as passed down to me by my septuagenarian father and two of my octogenarian uncles. My father fought in the war as a young man willing to defend against the annihilation of his people. He was not conscripted into the war, he willingly enrolled as it was an act of pride, not only for yourself, but for the community to answer the ‘Ojukwu call.’ So, he enrolled, but that decision to defend did not shield him from the devastating experience that comes with being in the frontline of a war-torn zone.

In his very front at one of the raids, one of his cousins (name withheld), was blown into lumps by a Nigerian grenade.

“Although the military instruction was never to go to gather enemy property after we chased them away and recovered some grounds, but there was so much hunger that we were scavengers in a sense,” he told me.

There’s no time this particular incident is retold that it doesn’t make him uncomfortable. When this part is reached, from when I was much younger till now, long pauses of reflection are certain. Then, he’ll break into long, almost monologue, of how brilliant that cousin was, how he could dismantle a motorcycle without looking at the manual and assemble them back. He was, according to him, a genius.

But he died in the war.

My father’s older brother was shot in the shoulder, the scar is still there for all to see. My mum’s older brother was shot in the arm, his scar still visible till this day.

So, my point is that, like many other Igbo families, my family has the scars of the war. The suffering of my family during the war, the children they lost, the fathers that never returned, the money in the bank that was taken by the government after the war, those who never returned to school after the war, and those whose dreams were forever shattered by it, are part of my story. And I will tell it to my children and tell them to tell it to theirs. It is part of our history, the past we can’t afford to forget.

Having said all that, I believe that I am remotely qualified to say that while we mustn’t forget the attempt to annihilate us during the war, the massacre in Delta State, the shooting down of planes with relief materials, the bombing of schools and churches, of villages, while we mustn’t forget all that, we should not strive to relive those moments. And that is what the Biafra movement, for the past 58 years, has sought to do.

From the days of Movement for the Actualization of the Sovereign State of Biafra (MASSOB) led by Indian-trained lawyer Ralph Uwazuruike, to the more recent movement of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) led by the incarcerated Nnamdi Kanu, our struggle for secession has not produced anything of value to the people. In fact, these movements have brought immense suffering and death.

But the question which I have asked almost everyone who supports these movements is this: What can Biafra achieve as a country that the Southeast cannot achieve now?

I would rely on some facts to make my case that in recent history, South Sudan, the world’s youngest country, believed that a separation from Sudan would solve all their problems and infighting. Yet, today, after seven years of civil war from 2013 to 2020, the northeast African country is on the brink of another war.

Eritrea, which sought to be free from Ethiopian rule achieved independence in 1993, but are Eritreans free? Since independence, the country has been ruled by Isaias Afwerki, in a political situation characterized as a totalitarian dictatorship. Not only has the country never held a general election, it’s been ruled as a one-party system that opposes any form of agitation.

“Eritrea continues to suppress basic rights, including to freedom of opinion, religion, and expression, with heightened restrictions in the context of forced mass conscription. Eritrean security forces continued to commit serious rights violations in Ethiopia’s Tigray region,” a 2024 Human Rights Watch report noted.

As with South Sudan, where a saddening 80 percent of the population live below the poverty line, hunger and suffering are still vastly entrenched in Eritrea.

These facts which I throw up are not done with any intention to douse the enshrined right of self-determination of a people, but to challenge the perception held by many groups fighting for their secession that it’s all they need for their group or region to be prosperous.

For Igbos, we have shown that even within the embroidery of the Nigerian state, we are a people not easily silenced. This is a group, which, after the war, was given only 20 pounds, notwithstanding what the person had in the bank prior to the war, but these same people rose from the ruins of the war, the devastating destruction of commerce and infrastructure, to become a very successful region in direct comparison to the five other geo-political zones.

Igbo women have the highest literacy rate in the entire Nigeria. Aside from Lagos, which took the fourth position, Imo State, Anambra, Ebonyi, Enugu, Abia, took from first to the sixth position. In terms of ethnicity, Igbo men and their women came first and third in literacy rate in a country that has hundreds of tribes.

In terms of Multidimensional Poverty Index, which measures education and standard of living, Abia, Anambra, Imo, are one of the least poor states. Even Ebonyi, which is at the 13th position, has lesser multidimensional poverty than Rivers State and Kano, considered the commercial hub of the Northern region.

But looking at the Socioeconomic Devastation Report as released by SBM Intelligence, I am concerned that we are letting this struggle of self-actualization erode the progress we have made, and the potential we have even as a region in Nigeria. According to the report, the Southeast region has lost N7.6 trillion since the Monday sit-at-home, which is in protest to the continued imprisonment of Kanu, began in 2021. Annually, transporters lose between N10–13 billion daily during protest. Micro-business, the hallmark of an Igbo man, forfeits N4.6 trillion annually to the sit-at-home. I have written extensively about these economic disruptions and how it does not speak to the entrepreneurial nature of Ndi Igbo.

More so, we are losing lives. Before now, this region was arguably the most peaceful region in Nigeria. Aba in Abia State, and Onitsha in Anambra State, was the economic hub. Enugu was the citadel of learning and civil life. Ebonyi was our Agricultural post. Owerri in Imo was the town we go after hustling to spend our money on Nkwobi and Isi Ewu. Now, with fatalities due to insecurity within these four years in the high of 776, each of these places is losing their unique touch.

Let me reiterate again: We can be what we can be within this Nigeria. It was us, during the civil war, that built a 26ft bomb shelter within 90 days. It was us who refined oil in the thick of the war that we used to propel our locally fabricated armoured tanks. It was us who built airport and allowed planes to land at the Uli airstrip at night. It was us who constructed the Ogbonigwe, a weapon of mass destruction that the Nigerian forces dreaded.

Also Read: Five innovations that came out of the Nigeria-Biafra war

I honestly do not see Biafra State ever coming. And I do not believe, despite the perceived marginalization of our people, particularly in the political terrain, that a Biafra State is what we need to become great people. In the context of the Nigerian metric, we are great. Exceedingly great. And we can be greater even within the inhibiting embroidery of the Nigerian State.

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Neusroom.