By Okechukwu Ajoku
Owerri Zone
The renewed agitation for state creation in the South-East has reopened questions that were never conclusively resolved. One of those questions concerns Ohaji—its historical alignment, its administrative treatment, and its repeated inclusion in proposals that contradict established records and judicial outcomes.
State creation is not merely a political aspiration. It is a constitutional exercise that demands clarity, historical accuracy, and procedural integrity. When proposals advance without reconciling themselves with existing records, they raise governance questions—not of emotion, but of legitimacy.
This is where the Ohaji issue becomes unavoidable.
WHAT THE RECORD CLEARLY SHOWS
At the creation of Imo State in 1976, Ohaji was neither silent nor incidental. Objections were formally raised regarding its administrative alignment. These were not afterthoughts or casual protests; they were contemporaneous interventions made at a foundational moment, when boundaries and identities were being determined.
More importantly, the matter did not remain unresolved. Judicial processes followed. The Supreme Court ruled on issues relating to alignment, and the effect of those rulings was unambiguous: Ohaji’s historical and administrative linkage was recognised within the Owerri axis.
That record did not expire with time. It was never overturned. It was never displaced by a higher authority.
It remains part of Nigeria’s legal and historical archive.
THE DISCONTINUITY IN NEW STATE PROPOSALS
Against this background, the inclusion of Ohaji in proposals for a new Orlu-based state introduces a troubling discontinuity.
How does a community that documented objections at state creation, and whose alignment was later clarified judicially, become included in a new state proposal without any public re-examination of that record?
This is not a rhetorical question. It goes to the heart of procedural credibility.
State creation proposals require detailed memoranda, historical justification, boundary clarity, and community consent. Those who champion such proposals are expected to demonstrate familiarity with the histories of the areas they include. Silence on Ohaji’s documented position and judicial history is therefore not neutral—it is consequential.
OVERSIGHT, ASSUMPTION, OR CONVENIENCE
There are only three plausible explanations for Ohaji’s continued inclusion in such proposals:
- OVERSIGHT – the historical and judicial record was not properly examined.
- ASSUMPTION – later administrative practice was treated as superior to foundational record.
- CONVENIENCE – inclusion was driven by political arithmetic rather than historical coherence.
None of these explanations strengthens the process.
Oversight exposes a failure of due diligence. Assumption reveals how administrative habit can quietly override law. Convenience raises ethical questions about instrumentalising communities for political ends.
This is why the Ohaji question cannot be dismissed as peripheral. It tests whether state creation advocacy is grounded in principle or driven by aggregation.
WHY THIS MATTERS FOR LEGITIMACY
State creation is ultimately about legitimacy. A state founded on unresolved contradictions inherits instability from its inception. Ignoring judicial records and documented objections does not erase them; it merely defers them into the future, where they resurface as governance crises.
Communities do not forget foundational moments. They may endure them—but endurance is not erasure.
Including Ohaji in a new state proposal without addressing its historical alignment does not strengthen the proposal. It weakens it.
THE STANDARD GOVERNANCE REQUIRES
Responsible governance demands that before any community is included in a new state:
its historical position is reviewed,
its documented objections are acknowledged,
existing judicial rulings are respected, and
any proposed realignment is justified transparently.
Anything less reduces state creation from a constitutional process to a political shortcut.
For the avoidance of doubt, this argument does not question the authority of government or the legitimacy of state creation as a constitutional objective. It affirms, rather than undermines, the responsibility of government to ensure that such exercises are grounded in record, consent, and procedural coherence. Review, in this context, is not resistance to progress; it is the discipline that makes progress sustainable.
WHEN A PEOPLE SPEAK, GOVERNANCE MUST LISTEN
Today, the position of Ohaji people is unmistakably clear.
They are not agitating for privilege.
They are not seeking confrontation.
They are not demanding disruption.
They are simply saying:
WE DO NOT CONSENT TO INCLUSION IN A NEW STATE ARRANGEMENT THAT IGNORES OUR HISTORY, OUR JUDICIAL RECORD, AND OUR LIVED ALIGNMENT.
In any serious democratic system, that declaration alone should trigger a pause.
State creation requires consent, coherence, and credibility. When a people openly reject inclusion, continuing to cage them within that process raises fundamental questions about representation and self-determination.
Why should a government committed to stability insist on holding a community inside an arrangement it has openly rejected?
Why should historical objections, judicial alignment, and present-day consent all be set aside in favour of administrative inertia?
Governance is not strengthened by forcing alignment where none exists. It is strengthened by releasing communities from inherited cages and allowing structure to reflect reality.
This call for review is not tied to any electoral cycle, party interest, or aspirational agenda; it is about structural coherence, not political timing.
History has already recorded Ohaji’s position.
The courts have already clarified alignment.
The people have now spoken again.
At this point, refusal to listen no longer looks like oversight. It begins to look like avoidance.
And no state—new or old—can be built sustainably on avoidance.
That is the choice before Imo State.
This article is offered as civic analysis in the public interest, grounded in historical record, judicial precedent, and constitutional process.
