By Yemi Itodo
Benue State marked its 50th anniversary with lavish celebrations while its people grapple with insecurity, poverty, and a leadership deficit that raises uncomfortable questions about the true state of Nigeria’s “Food Basket.”
The golden jubilee was nothing short of grand. President Bola Ahmed Tinubu dispatched his Chief of Staff, Rt. Hon. Femi Gbajabiamila, as his representative. The Ooni of Ife, Oba Adeyeye Enitan Ogunwusi, alongside governors, ministers, and traditional rulers, converged on Makurdi for the occasion. Speeches flowed, cameras flashed, and the atmosphere sparkled with festivity.
Yet beyond the banquet halls lies a different Benue entirely—a state bleeding from relentless attacks, burdened by poverty, and desperately yearning for purposeful leadership.
Anniversaries are not mere markers of time. They are moments to unveil legacies, commission transformative projects, celebrate economic advancement, and assure citizens of a brighter tomorrow. For millions of Benue people, that promise remains unfulfilled.
What exactly did Governor Hyacinth Alia present for national celebration? Were world-class hospitals commissioned? Industrial clusters unveiled? Modern agricultural processing facilities—the very infrastructure befitting Nigeria’s Food Basket—opened? Road networks connecting rural communities to markets inaugurated?
The answer to all is no. Instead, visitors witnessed ceremonies while communities continued burying their loved ones. With due respect, what unfolded was a cocktail of propaganda and political theatre.
Nothing exposes this contradiction more starkly than the security crisis. Benue has become one of Nigeria’s most vulnerable states, with armed groups displacing entire communities and forcing thousands into squalid camps. Farmers—the backbone of the state’s economy—can scarcely tend their ancestral lands without fear.
What meaning does celebrating the Food Basket hold when farmers cannot safely access their farms? Is this merely the celebration of an empty, tattered basket?
A hungry farmer cannot celebrate. A displaced widow cannot celebrate. An orphan of violence cannot celebrate. Communities living in perpetual fear cannot celebrate.
Development is not measured by press releases or social media propaganda. It is measured by the quality of life of ordinary citizens—whether children attend school safely, whether hospitals function, whether roads are motorable, whether investors have confidence in the economy. By these standards, Benue falls woefully short.
Equally troubling is the perception—whether accurate or not—that the Idoma people face systematic exclusion from governance. Across appointments and political patronage, many stakeholders argue that equity has suffered serious setbacks under the current administration. A perception this widespread cannot be dismissed lightly.
Unity cannot flourish where significant sections of the population feel neglected. Leadership must not only be impartial; it must inspire confidence that every ethnic group holds a meaningful place in government.
Beyond governance, the administration appears entangled in endless political confrontations. Rather than consolidating the coalition that brought him to power, Governor Alia has engaged in prolonged disagreements with influential figures within his own party, including Secretary to the Government of the Federation Senator George Akume, the Benue APC leadership, and several elected lawmakers.
Political disagreement is normal in any democracy. However, governance suffers when political battles become the defining feature of an administration. The people elected a governor to secure communities, grow the economy, create opportunities, and unite the state—not to wage perpetual political wars.
When political battles overshadow governance, citizens lose. They become more interested in internal power struggles than in whether roads are built, schools function, hospitals are equipped, jobs are created, and communities are secured. Leadership is measured by results, not rhetoric.
At fifty, Benue deserves sober reflection rather than self-congratulation. The state’s greatest monument is not its colourful anniversary logo or impressive guest list. Its true monument should be peaceful communities, thriving farms, functioning schools, modern hospitals, expanding industries, and citizens who genuinely believe tomorrow will be better than today.
Ceremonies last a day. Legacy lasts generations.
As the applause from the golden jubilee fades, difficult realities remain. Displaced families languish in camps. Farmers still fear returning to their fields. Unemployment persists. Communities continue to mourn. The ordinary Benue citizen still awaits the dividends of governance.
The true celebration of Benue at fifty will not come through elaborate ceremonies or distinguished guests. It will come when every farmer cultivates without fear, every child sleeps without the sound of gunfire, every ethnic group feels fairly represented, and government becomes known for development rather than disputes.
Until then, many will remember Benue at 50 not as a celebration of remarkable progress, but as a lavish birthday party held while the house itself cried out for rescue.
