Opinion
Should Indians Manage The Model Schools In Rivers?
Iheanyi Ezinwo,
Publisher
First of all, I want to start by saying that the system of government we have makes it possible for a sitting governor to decide on whatever he wants to do, and also to do it whether it is right or wrong.
Now, the governor before this time had not hidden his intention to hand over the management of the model schools to Indians. As a person, I would want to see that as a novel development.
It is a new one because many of us had thought that there is hardly any category of personnel that we don’t have in Rivers State. But from the face of it, the first thing that will come to mind on hearing this is that there are no qualified people in Rivers State to do the job.
As an individual, I would say that it would have been better to allow our people here to do the job. It is a matter of evolving the appropriate structure that will make it possible that school visitations and monitoring are properly done. But since they have decided to do it, it will not be easy for us to just say what the governor is doing is wrong or right.
We need to know at what cost are they going to do the job? For how long? Remember that for some time payment of salaries in Rivers State was handed over to Zenith Bank. But within a short time, it was discovered that they were not doing better than those who were doing it before. But now, from what we read from the papers, the assignment has been returned to the civil servants. So, I would have preferred a situation whereby they would look at how the system was working before, identify the weaknesses, then come up with ways and means of strengthening the monitoring mechanism.
But since they are insisting to go and contract the job, it is only time that will determine or justify that decision. Since the work has not started, I cannot tell you now that it is a right decision or not. It is the outcome that will determine whether the decision is right or not.
I think the assumption is that these Indians have the capability to properly run the schools. But the worry there is for how long are they going to run those schools? Who are going to take over from them, is it not the same our people that are going to take over from them? As a person, I may have my reservations but I believe that the governor knows certain things that I may not know that motivated him to go for that.
But I want to see it generally as a political decision because the day he leaves office, it is most likely that the next governor will reverse that decision. So, as a person, by saying it is good or not cannot change anything. I would prefer that we let it be and watch to see how the whole thing would go.
I would not call the decision an indictment on the enlightened class. I will call it a vote of no confidence on local hands. In other words, it is a demonstration of lack of confidence in our people to do the job very well. That is the way a disinterested third party will see it.
Iwu Remigeus,
Businessman
To me, this is a welcome development in a way because Indians that I know are very thorough people who do things well. If the model schools are given to them to manage, they will manage them well and produce results.
Although I believe we have capable hands here to manage the model schools, the Indians will do it better. If our own people are asked to manage the schools, they may have the Nigerian factor to contend with. Even if they are good, they may be influenced by corrupt Nigerians to water down the standard the Indians may set.
But my concern about the policy is the cost implication. Has the government actually thought out what it will cost to bring these Indians to manage all the model schools in the state?
The policy is good on paper, but I hope we will not have problems in implementing it. I think the government should consult a little more.
Patrick George,
Businessman
First of all, let us look at the motives behind the state government bringing Indians to manage the schools. I don’t know what are their motives. But if you ask me, I would say that we have indigenous managers or school managers that can handle all these. But I think we have people that will be there to manage these schools, and not the Indians. They are good in their own way but I prefer indigenous managers and indigenous teachers.
You pay these Indians in foreign currency, you pay them based on the salary agreement. It is like somebody importing goods. You pay more to the country where you import the goods. So, in our case, in terms of salary and maintenance, the state government will have to pay more, and in that case, some employed to manage these schools before now will now go back to the labour market.
I don’t know why the state government decided to bring Indians to manage the schools. To me, it is not good; I don’t like it. Let our people do the managing first. If after two or three years, it is not working, they might think of another way out. Every problem has a solution.
If the next government comes and does not like it, they might ask them to go.
Jude Akaraonye,
Businessman
Actually, this is a surprise in the sense that in Rivers State even before the schools were built to a standard like this, where were the Indians before the innovations? Does it mean that our teachers cannot perform in a more beautifully built schools? Why must it just be the Indians now that the schools have been properly renovated, at least, to standard? Why must it be the Indians that will now come and take over and manage the schools?. These are just a few of the questions.
Now, another thing is this: does it mean we don’t have good enough academia? I mean classic ones in the entire state? We have professors, eminent professors that are well read all over. Does it mean we cannot involve such people to take charge of management or leadership of such schools, even if it involves sending them abroad for training, for proper training? Let it be that they are indigenous teachers.
So, based on that, I don’t think it is proper to involve the Indians to come over and manage our resources in this case, which means we don’t have good teachers.
Mrs. Atemie Sanipe,
Teacher
My opinion is that if the Indians will come and spot out the quacks and sanitise the model schools, let them come. Most teachers are not fit to be in our school system. May be the Indians will add value to the running of these model schools, otherwise I will say no to their coming.
I believe if Indians are engaged to run these schools, it will affect the employment of staff into the schools. Quality staff will be employed. If they employ the right persons, they will be laying a proper foundation. I believe it will take time before they deviate.
What I am saying is that the Indians will do better than our people if asked to manage the model schools. They are competent and they are the people that we emulate.
Theophilus Daerego,
Civil Servant
For Indians as usual to manage the schools, I think they can do better than our people here. What is there is that they have to manage the schools properly, and may be, after sometime, our people can undergo training and learn the job. Because right now, our standard of education has fallen. Sometimes, if you look at the way we Nigerians manage, we find it difficult. So, that is where the problem lies.
If the Rivers State government says that they want experts or foreigners to manage the schools, I see nothing bad in it.
It is a welcome development. Because already, Indians during the seventies, or eighties were here with us, teaching us. I could remember when I was a student at Enitonna High School, Port Harcourt, it was Indians who taught us. And they taught us well.
I do not think bringing the Indians mean our people cannot do the work. They are bringing them because they are more advanced than we are educationally. They are also less corruptible. So, bringing them is a good thing for us to learn from them. You know we are learners and a Third World country. They are more than us in terms of technology, in terms of civilization and educationally. So, Indians managing the schools is very good.
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
