By Kunle Agbede
Truth is rarely born of politics, and trust is even rarer. But that’s not unique to politics—it cuts across every human endeavour.
*Peter ObiFor many, the moral arc easily bends away from conscience when the outcome benefits them. That’s the way of the world. But as we say in law: for every rule, there is an exception.
Before 2021, I barely knew Peter Obi beyond the fact that he was once Governor of Anambra State and ran alongside Atiku as the Vice President during the 2019 election. If you'd asked me then, I would’ve lumped him in with the usual crop of Nigerian politicians—those who see leadership as a divine entitlement, only to betray the very people who gave them power. I’d have been wrong, but not without justification, given how little I knew.
When he declared his intention to run, and facts about his past began to surface—facts that even his well-funded opponents couldn’t successfully rebut—I started to pay attention. Obi’s record wasn’t perfect, but compared to his peers, he stood tall. Understanding how democracy works, I chose to support him, believing—still believing—that he represents the best shot at salvaging this country.
Now, let me be clear: Peter Obi is a Nigerian politician. That means he’s not entirely innocent of the distrust that shadows the political class. Deception has long been the engine of our politics. I’m under no illusion that this will change overnight, or even in the next election cycle. But every rule has its exception, and Obi, in my considered view, is one of few.
Some argue that Nigeria’s transformation must begin from the grassroots—from the states and local governments. I see the point, but I disagree. The head remains the most critical part of the body. It houses the brain, the organ that coordinates every other function. Similarly, the presidency in Nigeria is the jugular vein of our national life. Without a competent leader at the centre, even if every state is governed by a Lee Kuan Yew, we will still be a country in crisis. This doesn’t excuse failures at the sub-national level, but it underscores the weight and influence of the presidency.
Many doubted Obi’s credentials, and perhaps rightly so. He spoke in ways that sounded too good to be true. He didn’t carry himself like the average Nigerian politician who would gladly walk on human blood in place of red carpet. He claimed to have left billions in Anambra’s coffers—a rare feat in a system where most governors leave behind only debts. He said he didn't borrow but still transformed his state. He claimed to have lifted Anambra from 26th to 1st position in WAEC rankings. These were unusual claims. But rather than ask to be believed, he asked Nigerians to verify.
He lost that election—one tainted by widespread irregularities, largely orchestrated by a party that was both desperate and well-entrenched. Still, Obi pulled over 6 million votes—without a traditional “structure.” That’s no small feat. He challenged the outcome all the way to the Supreme Court. The court didn’t find his claims sufficient to overturn the results, and when the legal battle ended, he did something unusual again: he accepted the outcome and assured Nigerians that he wouldn’t disappear. He’d stay with the people and continue to hold the government accountable.
Unlike others who only surface every four years to ask for votes, Peter Obi has actually showed up. Since the beginning of this year alone, he has donated over 1 billion Naira to hospitals, schools, and displaced persons across the country. He has spoken up where the people needed a voice. He has shown empathy in times of national grief. He has stepped in where the government has failed. In fact, he’s been so visible that some state governments—ashamed by their own failures—have tried to keep him away.
In his political dealings, he has shown sensitivity to our diversity. He understands that beyond the written constitution, there are unwritten codes that help keep this fragile union standing, fundamental among which is the equal rotation of power between the North and the South. And he is wise enough to acknowledge that Nigeria’s redemption cannot rest on the shoulders of one man alone—not even him.
Among all our current political actors on the national stage, Peter Obi stands out as someone who has earned a degree of trust. He is not infallible. He is human. And yes, he is a Nigerian politician. But if there’s anyone in that space today who deserves the benefit of doubt—it is him.
Those who genuinely think he's only trying to pull a wool on our faces are perhaps justified in the face of too many years of failed politicians' promises, but Peter Obi, I think, has earned the benefit of doubt.
I choose to believe him, and I trust his judgment.
*Agbede, a legal practitioner, writes from Ibadan
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