Opinion
Need For New Cities In Rivers State
Magnus Nwauwa
The creation of Rivers State out of the then Eastern Region in 1967 was a blessing to the people of this part of the country.
It was a dream come true after several years of struggle and agitation to have a separate and autonomous geographical entity which today is known as Rivers State, The Treasure Base of the Nation.
From that time till date, the state has snowballed into cosmopolitan city playing host to millions of people from across the globe.
The state, which is made up of 23 local government council areas is richly endowed with oil and gas, accounting to over 90 per cent of the nation’s foreign exchange earnings.
It is a state with virtually all the communities bearing and producing oil for exploration. That also informed the location of major multi-national corporations from Lagos and Abuja to Port Harcourt in the mid 80s to commence full exploration and exploitation activities in most parts of the state including rural areas where the bulk of oil was discovered in large quantities of which a place like Oloibiri in Bayelsa State cannot easily be forgotten.
As a result of the foregoing, the city became congested and overstretched with pollution and other environmental hazards as its attendant consequences.
Against this backdrop, rural-urban migration was on the increase, paving way for rising unemployment figure which has today hit the sky-ways.
The high cost of transportation, housing and general living condition of the people has deteriorated and collapsed before the timely intervention of the present Amaechi-led administration whose policy thrust centres on urban renewal and greater Port Harcourt City project.
The new concept of transforming the city into a mega status is the only gateway to decongest Port Harcourt to catch up with the rest of the world and meet the realities of the time.
The proposed “Port Harcourt Master Plan” should go beyond the present number of communities so far designated to include more towns and villages that have enough landmass for development purposes.
For instance, places like Etche, Abua, Ogoni, Eleme, Oyigbo and some parts of Ikwerre axis have what it takes to be acquired for development.
Besides, other areas like Bori, Isiokpo, Ahoada, Degema, Abonnema as well as Okrika and a host of others that have been existing as major towns in Rivers State can conveniently accommodate some of the ministries, parastatals and other government key establishments and institutions that are presently being located in Port Harcourt.
As a matter of fact, the relocation of some of these ministries and possibly companies operating especially along Trans-Amadi axis to those places earlier mentioned would bring about drastic decongestion of Port Harcourt as workers, businessmen and women affected would have no option but to relocate their families to their new working places.
That way, the high cost of house rent will considerably reduce, while the long queues often encountered in the metropolis will gradually disappear.
Not only that, the system would witness a sharp reduction in school fees as a good number of children will attend the affordable government-owned model schools built in most parts of the state as against the exorbitant ones established in Port Harcourt by private people, corporate organizations and what have you.
The system, if adopted, would also reduce youth restiveness occasioned by lack of job opportunities as many of them will be meaningfully engaged in productive ventures in the new developed towns and villages.
Besides, food will be available in sufficient quantities as more hands will be on deck to produce varieties of food for not only domestic consumption but also for export to other countries.
Above all, the move will portray Rivers State as the pace setter of new innovations in the comity of other states in the Niger Delta and of course the rest of the country as well as restore her pride of place in virtually all the good things of life.
However, there is the need to do a test-run on the new system rather than concentrate all the investments and resources of the state in one city state structure arrangement bequeathed to us by the colonial masters before their final exit from the shores of the land.
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
