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LET us speak plainly, because this is no longer a matter for polite language or careful evasion. The agitation for ANIM State may be legitimate but the emerging design of it carries the unmistakable fingerprints of something far more dangerous: a calculated attempt to redraw the economic map of Imo State under the cover of regional equity. What is being quietly assembled is not just a new state; it is a rearrangement of power, resources, and future relevance, and at the centre of that rearrangement sits Ohaji/Egbema and Oguta, the very territories that give Imo strategic weight in Nigeria’s evolving gas economy.
No one disputes that the South-east deserves a sixth state. In fact, it is long overdue. That argument is settled in both logic and fairness. A region of five states in a federation where others boast six or more is structurally disadvantaged in representation, revenue sharing, and political bargaining.
The call for balance is, therefore, not only reasonable; it is necessary. But necessity does not justify recklessness. Justice, when pursued without restraint, can easily become another form of injustice. And that is precisely the line the current ANIM proposal is in danger of crossing.
Because this is not just about creating a state; it is about how that state is being conceived and what it intends to take along with it.
From the earliest whispers of Orlu State to the more refined articulation of ANIM, one element has remained constant: the inclusion of Ohaji/Egbema and Oguta. This is not a coincidence. It is a strategy. These are not peripheral lands that can be detached without consequence. They are the economic lungs through which Imo breathes.
The ANOH gas project alone, with its massive processing capacity and infrastructure footprint, signals a future in which gas, not just oil, will define Nigeria’s energy politics. That future is already taking shape in Ohaji. To remove that axis from Imo is not to adjust a boundary; it is to tamper with the state’s destiny.
And let us be honest about what follows such a move. A state stripped of its primary resource base does not simply adjust; it declines. Revenues shrink. Investment interest wanes. Political leverage diminishes. Development slows. What remains is a shell, intact on the map, but weakened in substance. That is the quiet danger here: Imo would not disappear, but it would be fundamentally altered, reduced from a state with strategic energy relevance to one struggling to redefine its place in a highly competitive federal structure.
What makes this even more troubling is that the people whose lands are most directly affected have not been silent. They have spoken, clearly and repeatedly. Community groups, youth organisations, and oil-bearing communities in Ohaji/Egbema have rejected inclusion in the proposed state. They have described it as political overreach, even conquest. They have affirmed their ties to Imo. This is not speculation; it is documented resistance. And in a constitutional democracy, that should matter.
Because the law itself is not ambiguous. State creation in Nigeria is not achieved through elite consensus alone. It requires layered approvals, including the consent of the people in the affected areas through a referendum. That provision exists for a reason: to prevent exactly this kind of top-down reconfiguration where communities are treated as negotiable assets rather than stakeholders with agency.
Any attempt to carry Ohaji/Egbema and Oguta into ANIM against their expressed will is not just politically risky; it is constitutionally strained.
Yet, despite these realities, the momentum behind ANIM continues to build. Meetings are being held. Endorsements are being cited. Infrastructure is reportedly being positioned in anticipation of a new capital. The machinery is moving with a precision that suggests planning, not spontaneity. And while all of this unfolds, the response from those expected to defend Imo’s interests has been, at best, uneven.
This is where the real unease begins.
Because the loudest voice in this moment should not be that of the agitators; it should be that of those whose state stands to lose the most. Where are the coordinated positions from Imo’s senators? Where is the unified stance from the House of Assembly? Where is the clarity from political leaders across Owerri and Okigwe zones, who would inherit the consequences of any territorial and economic loss? Silence, in a moment like this, is not harmless. It creates space for decisions to harden, for narratives to settle, for outcomes to become inevitable before opposition fully forms.
And perhaps the most uncomfortable question of all is whether this silence is born of ignorance, indifference, or calculation. Are leaders failing to grasp the scale of what is at stake, or are they choosing not to confront it? Are they distracted by internal political calculations, zoning, succession, alliances, while a far more consequential shift is underway? Or worse, have some already reconciled themselves to an outcome they believe they cannot stop?
The silence could also be explained away as the people supposedly representing the people have been pocketed by the governor who would not only be glad that Ani state is created but that it would be a legacy from his government to his people. That is why opostion voices are muted and castrated, without balls.
Whatever the answer, the cost of inaction will not be borne by politicians alone. It will be borne by the state, by its economy, and by future generations who will inherit the consequences of decisions made, or avoided, today.
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It is also important to confront a subtle but dangerous narrative embedded within the ANIM push: that the creation of the state is impossible without the inclusion of Ohaji/Egbema and Oguta. That assumption must be challenged.
There are alternative pathways to achieving regional balance that do not require the economic weakening of Imo. Proposals such as Anioma State, with its cultural and historical alignment to the South-east, present a viable and less disruptive option. Other configurations within the region can be explored without targeting resource-rich territories whose removal would create new imbalances even as old ones are addressed.
In other words, the choice is not between accepting ANIM as currently structured or rejecting state creation entirely. The real choice is between a model that redistributes opportunity fairly and one that redistributes loss unevenly.
And that distinction matters.
Because if the South-east secures a sixth state by effectively cannibalising one of its own, then the victory is hollow. It replaces one form of marginalisation with another. It sends a message that internal equity within the region is negotiable, that some communities can be sacrificed for a broader political goal. That is not the foundation upon which lasting regional strength is built.
The truth, stripped of all diplomatic language, is this: if ANIM State requires the detachment of Ohaji/Egbema and Oguta from Imo, then ANIM, in that form, is not a solution; it is a problem. It is an arrangement that solves a regional imbalance by creating a state-level crisis. It is a proposal that advances one ambition while undermining another.
And that is why a line must be drawn.
Not in hostility to the idea of ANIM, but in defence of fairness, consent, and long-term stability. Imo cannot afford to negotiate away its economic heartland in the hope that a broader regional gain will somehow compensate for a local loss. History offers no such guarantees. What it does offer are countless examples of regions that surrendered strategic assets and spent decades attempting to recover from the consequences.
This moment, therefore, demands clarity. It demands that those in positions of authority speak, not in cautious ambiguity, but in firm, unmistakable terms. It demands that the people of Imo, especially those in Owerri and Okigwe zones, ask hard questions of their leaders and insist on answers. It demands that the conversation shifts from quiet negotiations to public accountability.
Because once boundaries are redrawn and assets reassigned, reversal becomes nearly impossible.
And so the issue returns to its simplest, most urgent form: should Imo State accept a future in which its most valuable economic territories are detached in the name of regional balance, or should it insist that any such balance be achieved without sacrificing its own viability?
The answer should not be difficult.
Ohaji/Egbema and Oguta are not bargaining chips. They are not expendable territories to be traded in a larger political negotiation. They are integral to Imo’s present and indispensable to its future.
If a new state must be created, let it be done with wisdom, with fairness, and with the full consent of all affected communities. But if the price of that creation is the quiet weakening of Imo, then the proposal, no matter how well intentioned, must be rejected.
Because a people who surrender their economic soul for political symmetry may gain a map, but lose their future.
