Is Obi’s “One-Term Rescue Mission” Just Another “Emilokan” in Disguise? -By Isaac Asabor

When Peter Obi, the Labour Party’s presidential candidate in the 2023 general elections, began reiterating that he would serve only a single term if elected president in 2027, many Nigerians received it with mixed feelings. Some viewed it as a refreshing commitment to focused governance, a sign of selflessness rarely seen among Nigeria’s political elite. But others, like this writer, more politically discerning and less swept up by populist sentiments, have begun to ask a deeper question: “Is Obi’s one-term vow simply another way of declaring “Emilokan”, “It is my turn”?

For context, “Emilokan” became synonymous with entitlement in Nigerian politics when it was popularized by Bola Ahmed Tinubu during the lead-up to the 2023 elections. His assertion that it was his turn to rule Nigeria carried with it an air of inevitability, as though the presidency was a personal reward for past political investments. That infamous declaration left many questioning the health of Nigerian democracy, where political ambition is mistaken for divine right or payback.

Now, fast forward to Obi’s current political posture, an insistence that he only wants a term to “fix Nigeria,” after which he will bow out. On the surface, this seems like a noble offer. But scratch a little deeper, and you might find that Obi’s pitch is no less presumptuous than Tinubu’s “Emilokan.” It assumes he is the only one who can salvage Nigeria. It presupposes that he is the messiah, uniquely gifted and urgently needed, and that Nigerians owe him at least four years in Aso Rock. That, in itself, is a form of desperation, one that Nigerians cannot afford in their next president.

Let us not mince words, Nigeria is broken in many places. Our economy is on its knees, security is fragile, institutions are weak, and public trust is at an all-time low. In such a time, it is not wrong to seek a leader who will steer the country back from the brink. But what Nigerians do not need is a man desperate to lead at any cost, including emotional blackmail cloaked as altruism.

Peter Obi’s one-term pledge raises troubling questions. Why the rush to serve just four years? If he is truly committed to the long-term rebuilding of Nigeria, why not seek a constitutionally allowed eight years to implement a sustainable transformation? Why the self-imposed expiration date? Is it a political gimmick designed to lure impatient voters who are tired of recycled politicians? Or worse, is it a way of saying: “I must be president now or never”?

If it is the latter, then Obi is walking the same path that Tinubu did, albeit more subtly. While Tinubu shouted “Emilokan” from the rooftops, Obi is whispering it through a veil of humility. But make no mistake, both are rooted in a deep, almost obsessive ambition for power.

In fact, there is need for caution among us, particularly the “Obidients” because desperation and leadership are a dangerous combination. A desperate man in power is prone to impulsive decisions, rash policies, and erratic governance. He views criticism as sabotage and dissent as betrayal. Desperate leaders often rule with an eye on legacy rather than the people. Their sense of urgency becomes a justification for cutting corners, undermining institutions, and bypassing due process.

If Obi enters office under the self-imposed pressure to perform miracles in just four years, Nigerians may find themselves subjected to hurried, half-baked reforms. A desperate president may prioritize projects with fast political returns over those with lasting impact. He may become intolerant of opposition and too reliant on public perception. All this could turn what was supposed to be a messianic term into a chaotic race against time, with Nigerians bearing the brunt.

The presidency is not a “do or die” mission, and Nigerians should be wary of anyone who presents it as such. We must be skeptical of leaders who cloak desperation in the language of service. True leadership is measured, deliberate, and patient. It is not driven by timelines, but by vision.

Obi’s claim that he needs only four years to “fix” Nigeria is, frankly, unrealistic. No honest technocrat or reformist would promise to restructure a broken country of over 200 million people in a single term. Even eight years would barely scratch the surface of the deeply entrenched problems facing this country, from constitutional defects to systemic corruption, poverty, ethno-religious divisions, and a bloated public service.

In fact, any leader who understands the depth of Nigeria’s rot should be humble enough to admit that real change takes time. If Obi truly wants to build lasting institutions and drive structural reforms, he should be ready to commit to the long haul. Saying otherwise smacks of either ignorance or overconfidence, neither of which is desirable in a president.

Moreover, by insisting on a one-term presidency, Obi is indirectly undermining the value of continuity. Many reforms, especially economic and security-related ones, require sustained implementation across two terms. Without that, they are at the mercy of successors who may reverse them. A one-term vow may win votes, but it can ruin policies. We’ve seen this happen too often in Nigeria.

In fact, Nigerians should beware of slogans, whether it is “Emilokan” or “One-Term Rescue Mission.” Beneath them often lies the same naked hunger for power. The difference is in tone, not in substance. Obi’s campaign may sound more modest and well-mannered, but it is driven by a similar sense of entitlement. It tells Nigerians: “I alone can do this job, and I must be given the chance now.”

That is political messianism, and it is just as dangerous as political godfatherism. Democracy is about institutions, not individuals. No one person, no matter how principled or popular, is indispensable. Nigerians must resist the idea that any man is Nigeria’s last hope. That fallacy has led us into political traps before, and we must not repeat it.

What Nigerians need is a president who is steady, not desperate. One who is ready to build, not bulldoze. One who respects time, not just his own time-table. Nigeria does not need a savior complex or a lone-ranger presidency. We need a leader who will work with institutions, empower local governments, strengthen the judiciary, and embrace democratic values, not override them in the name of urgency.

Peter Obi may have good intentions. He may even be sincere. But sincerity is not enough. Many politicians before him came with good intentions, and failed spectacularly because of flawed assumptions and personal ambition. Nigerians should listen closely to what Obi is really saying beneath his well-rehearsed lines, and ask themselves “Is his one-term promise a mark of discipline, or a symptom of desperation?” If it is the latter, then we must ask: “What else would he compromise in his desperate bid to be president?”

The country cannot afford another gamble in 2027. What we need now is not another political redeemer in a hurry to leave a legacy. We need a president with the humility to admit the enormity of the task, the patience to work through it, and the character to stay grounded in service, not spectacle.

In the end, a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet. But “Emilokan” by another name still stinks of entitlement. And that is something Nigeria can no longer tolerate.