Forced Marriage: The Nigerian System of a Federation

By Livy-Elcon Emereonye

Nigeria exists within a contradictory framework, showing a trapped in a web of paradox. While it claims to be a federation, it behaves more like a prison. It claims unity, yet it reeks of division. It preaches brotherhood, yet it thrives on suspicion. This is no federation of willing partners—it is a forced marriage, decreed by colonial masters and perpetuated by local power brokers who benefit from its crooked arrangement.

A federation is meant to be a covenant of equals. It is supposed to be a family of diverse peoples bound together by choice, by consent, by mutual respect. But Nigeria never had such a chance. In 1914, the British gathered strange bedfellows and chained them together. North and South, East and West, different tongues and different gods—lumped into one contraption called Nigeria, without consultation, without consent, without love. That was not a marriage. That was an imposition.

And from imposition came distortion. For more than a century, Nigeria has pretended to be what it is not. It wears the garb of federalism, but underneath is the skeleton of central tyranny. Abuja, the so-called capital of unity, has become a vampire sucking life from the states. Resources are seized, powers are stripped, and autonomy is strangled. States crawl to the center every month like beggars, waiting for allocations, instead of standing as proud equals with the freedom to create, produce, and flourish. Tell me, what is federal in this arrangement? Nothing. It is a fraud wrapped in a flag.

This forced marriage has poisoned our diversity. Instead of strength, it has become our curse. Instead of complementing one another, we compete and conspire. Ethnic identity overshadows national identity. Religion is turned into a political weapon. Mediocrity is enthroned through quota systems and federal character while excellence is cast aside. Nigerians typically begin by asking: Where do you come from, before asking: What can you do? In these circumstances, patriotism fades away, transforming into tribalism and fanaticism as we observe today.

What has this marriage provided us? A history soaked in blood. Millions lost their lives in the civil war because one side wanted to separate. Militancy emerged in the Niger Delta as locals expressed their grievances over exploitation. Agitations in the South-East, separatist movements in the South-West, endless cries for restructuring in the Middle Belt, and insurgency in the North. These events are not mere coincidences; they represent the anguished cries of a population confined in a union they did not select.

Take a look around. Poverty spreads rapidly, insecurity suffocates the nation, corruption serves as the unofficial national anthem, and hopelessness quietly destroys lives. Elections are not contests of ideas but ethnic censuses. Leadership is not about competence but about “turns” and “rotations.” We live not as citizens of a proud nation but as hostages of a flawed arrangement where live and property are destroyed and celebrated on the altar of tribalism.

Yet, some keep shouting “One Nigeria!” as if chanting a slogan can heal a broken marriage. Unity is not a mantra; it is a choice. It is not decreed by force; it is built by consent. Where there is no justice, unity is a lie. Where there is no fairness, peace is impossible. Where there is no mutual respect, the house will fall.

So, what must be done? It’s time we told ourselves the bitter truth. Nigeria must face the reality: this marriage is failing. To save it, we must renegotiate it. Let the nations within Nigeria sit down—not as subordinates to a central overlord, but as equals with the right to say yes or no. Let them design a new covenant, one built on true federalism: resource control, regional autonomy, justice, and fairness. Only then can love grow where suspicion once reigned.

But if renegotiation is denied—if the powers that be continue to insist on a fraudulent unity held together by force—then we must accept the alternative: a peaceful separation. Better an honorable divorce than a violent home. Better smaller nations living in peace than one giant contraption crumbling in perpetual conflict.

Nigeria today is the story of a forced marriage: unhappy, unstable, unproductive. And history has no mercy on unions like this. Every empire built on coercion has collapsed. Every forced marriage has eventually broken. Unless Nigeria finds the courage to choose consent over compulsion, fairness over fraud, and justice over deceit, it too will collapse under the weight of its contradictions.

The choice is before us: renegotiate or rupture. Consent or chaos. Love or loss. The clock is ticking, and forced marriages do not last forever. Finding tranquility through separation is wiser than enduring an abusive partnership that poses a threat to life.