Igbophobia and the Politics of Manufactured Enemies: A Reflection on Nigeria’s Fragile Cohesion
How ethnic fear has become a tool of political survival, and a threat to the moral and economic foundations of our democracy.
John Onyeukwu (Published on the Backpage of Business am Newspaper of Friday October 10, 2025)
Professor Moses Ochonu’s recent Facebook wall commentary on the rise of Igbophobia in Lagos is not merely a historical analysis, it is a moral warning. He exposes a growing political phenomenon where fear and resentment are deliberately manufactured to serve elite interests. This trend reveals a dangerous corrosion of civic ethics, democratic values, and the developmental possibilities of our federation. Nigeria, a country whose strength should lie in its pluralism, now risks becoming hostage to the politics of manufactured enemies. It is a sobering reminder that when leaders manipulate identity for political gain, they unleash forces that neither they nor the state can ultimately control. Such divisive politics chips away at the delicate trust that holds a multiethnic democracy together, replacing shared nationhood with suspicion, and citizenship with ethnic survivalism.
At the philosophical level, Igbophobia is not just prejudice; it is a betrayal of the moral contract that underpins citizenship. When political elites sustain their relevance by pitting one ethnic group against another, they corrupt the idea of justice and destroy the moral foundation of democracy. True citizenship cannot thrive where belonging is conditional and humanity negotiable.
The current wave of anti-Igbo sentiment represents the collapse of ethical leadership in public life. It teaches ordinary Nigerians that the measure of worth lies not in contribution, but in ancestry. Such a society quickly degenerates into moral chaos, where competence is sacrificed on the altar of conformity, and truth becomes tribal. The resulting moral vacuum fuels cynicism, alienation, and disengagement, the very conditions that allow bad governance to persist. Once truth and morality are subordinated to identity, integrity loses meaning, and civic dialogue becomes impossible. Over time, citizens stop aspiring to shared ideals and retreat into ethnic cocoons, leaving the public sphere hollow, intolerant, and vulnerable to manipulation by those who profit from division.
Politically, as Ochonu rightly observes, this phenomenon is not accidental. It is a well-calculated act of political engineering, tracing its roots to the 2015 election and the strategic alliance between the Southwest and the North that brought Muhammadu Buhari to power. What began as expedient power arithmetic has now metastasized into a culture of ethnic suspicion and targeted hostility.
The tragedy is that this politics of polarization yields short-term political capital but long-term national decay. Once ethnic mobilization becomes normalized, no group is safe. When the alliance fractures, as history suggests it will, today’s architects of bigotry will themselves become tomorrow’s victims. The cycle of hate has no permanent winners, only a country perpetually at war with itself.
What we are witnessing, therefore, is the weaponization of identity, a cynical use of ethnicity as political blackmail. It is as much about forging internal cohesion among the Yoruba elite as it is about demonizing the Igbo. Every identity movement that seeks power through exclusion must invent an enemy. The Igbo have merely become the convenient “Other” of the moment. Yet, this manipulation corrodes democratic competition itself, replacing policy debates with emotional warfare and reducing the civic space to a theatre of ethnic fear and elite propaganda.
From an economic standpoint, this politics of prejudice is ruinous. Lagos, the epicenter of this rhetoric, thrives precisely because it has been a magnet for all Nigerians. Its innovation, entrepreneurship, and resilience are the product of diversity. To turn that diversity into a weapon is to undermine the very foundation of the city’s success.
The informal economy of Lagos, the markets, the small enterprises, the property ecosystem, depends on trust, collaboration, and cross-ethnic cooperation. When fear replaces fairness, the market suffers. Investors retreat, cooperation declines, and communities withdraw into ethnic enclaves. Hate has an economic cost: it breeds inefficiency, discourages innovation, and shrinks opportunity. Over time, even state revenue and urban productivity are affected, as social fragmentation disrupts consumer confidence and local commerce.
At the national level, development cannot take root in an environment poisoned by ethnic hostility. Infrastructure, education, and industrial policy require trust and collective purpose. A nation divided in spirit cannot unite in strategy. The human capital that drives growth is crippled when identity determines inclusion. The prosperity that Nigeria seeks depends on a shared sense of belonging; without it, even the most ambitious economic blueprints will fail to take root or yield sustainable progress.
The most alarming danger is psychological. Nigerians are slowly being conditioned to view one another not as citizens, but as competitors for survival within a zero-sum state. Once this mindset hardens, even the strongest institutions cannot guarantee stability. The idea of Nigeria collapses long before the state itself does.
Democracy presupposes a shared moral space, a minimum trust in the fairness of rules. When identity becomes the rule and justice the exception, elections lose legitimacy, and national cohesion evaporates. A country that normalizes bigotry will soon find that it cannot sustain either unity or democracy. The real tragedy is that such division erodes the emotional glue of nationhood, the invisible sense of mutual obligation that binds people beyond ethnicity or faith. When citizens cease to believe that their fate is intertwined, patriotism dies, and the state becomes an empty shell. The result is not only political instability but moral fatigue: a society too fragmented to imagine a common destiny, and too distrustful to pursue collective progress.
To rescue Nigeria’s plural democracy, we must rebuild a civic philosophy grounded in fairness, not fear. Citizenship must be reclaimed from the ethnic brokers who profit from division. The media, academia, and faith communities must stop amplifying tribal anxieties and start cultivating empathy and truth. They must become the conscience of the nation, spaces where facts are protected from distortion and humanity is elevated above politics.
The Yoruba ronu bigotry that Ochonu critiques is not unique; every region has its variant. But what makes this moment dangerous is its institutionalization. It is now expressed through social media disinformation, political propaganda, and cultural revisionism, tools that can outlast their creators and reproduce hate even without active political orchestration. The normalization of prejudice through jokes, memes, and selective history is reshaping public consciousness, especially among the youth, threatening to make intolerance a civic instinct.
Nigeria must choose between the convenience of scapegoating and the courage of nation-building. The former may win elections, but only the latter will build a future. That future demands three things:
Firstly, a return to civic ethics and moral leadership that upholds truth as the foundation of governance. The nation must rediscover the moral courage to speak truth to power and demand accountability without bias. Leadership, at every level, should once again be measured not by rhetoric or tribe, but by integrity and a demonstrable commitment to the public good. Nigeria’s crisis is not just one of systems, but of sincerity. A new civic ethic must therefore be cultivated, one that treats public office as stewardship, not entitlement.
Secondly, a rejection of fear-based mobilization and a revival of issue-based politics that rewards competence over identity. For too long, politicians have weaponized ethnicity and religion to secure power, turning citizens into captives of suspicion. The path forward lies in a political culture where ideas, performance, and accountability take precedence. Electoral campaigns must become contests of vision, not venom, where candidates’ debate solutions, not origins.
Thirdly, the harnessing of diversity as a competitive advantage rather than a curse, investing in inclusion as a growth strategy. Nigeria’s demographic and regional variety can power innovation, creativity, and productivity if the right incentives are built into national policy. From local enterprise to national planning, diversity should be seen as an asset, a force multiplier for prosperity. A Nigeria that values every identity as a contributor to progress will not only grow richer but also fairer, stronger, and freer.
Until we do, the dream of a united and prosperous Nigeria will remain perpetually deferred, not by outsiders, but by the enemies we invent among ourselves, and the silence of those who should know better. Our undoing lies not in foreign conspiracies but in the internal fractures we refuse to heal, the prejudices we normalize, and the collective apathy that greets every act of injustice. Until conscience outweighs convenience, and courage becomes the national instinct, Nigeria’s promise will continue to flicker, brilliant yet unrealized, within the reach of a people too divided to grasp it together.