When Unity Was Power: The Rise & Fragmentation Of Nigeria’s Eastern Heartland

By TIMOTHY HAGGERTY-NWOKOLO

BEFORE Nigeria became a federation of states, it was a nation shaped by three powerful regions — the North, the West, and the East. Each region carried its own cultural force, economic identity, and political weight. But among them, the Eastern Region stood out as a bustling economic corridor that powered the young nation’s growth.

Stretching from Port Harcourt to Calabar, from the commercial hum of Aba to the trading might of Onitsha, the East was a thriving mosaic of Igbo, Efik, Ibibio, Ijaw, and other ethnic nationalities. What bound these communities together was not just geography but a shared culture of enterprise: strong seaports, busy markets, a rising industrial sector, and a rapidly expanding educated class. The region’s vitality was unmistakable — and undeniable.

But with increasing regional strength came a creeping political anxiety.

The Politics of Fear and Fragmentation

As the Eastern Region grew more economically influential and intellectually vibrant, it triggered fears among political actors who saw its cohesion as a threat. A region with direct access to the sea, a booming industrial base, and a population known for mobility and trade could, in the eyes of some, wield disproportionate influence in national affairs.

So began a set of political strategies that would reshape Nigeria’s map — and its future:

• Breaking the region into smaller states to dilute its bloc strength.

• Redrawing boundaries that separated ethnic groups that once lived and traded as one.

• Weakening access to the sea, limiting economic autonomy.

• Recasting population figures, influencing political representation.

• Sowing mistrust among groups that once shared markets, customs, and communal life.

These actions were not driven by the needs of ordinary citizens but by calculations of power — and they left a once-unified region splintered and struggling to reclaim its former collective strength.

A Time When Regions Worked Together

Older Nigerians remember an era before these divisions hardened. A time when:

• Igbo traders flourished in Lagos and Ibadan.

• Efik and Ibibio merchants were welcomed in Yoruba markets.

• Hausa and Igbo families lived side-by-side in northern towns.

• Yoruba entrepreneurs built thriving businesses in Port Harcourt.

These scenes were not perfect, but they reflected a lived unity — a Nigeria where ethnic groups collaborated more often than they competed.

The divisions that followed did not emerge from the people. They were manufactured by political elites who benefitted from creating rivalry where cooperation once existed. And the cost has been paid by traders, farmers, students, families, and entire communities who once prospered together.

What Remains Today

Today, Nigeria is left grappling with the consequences of regional fragmentation — economic tension, political distrust, and narratives that pit neighbours against each other. The painful truth is that ordinary Nigerians did not break the country. They inherited the fractures created for political advantage.

Yet, beneath the bruises of history lies a deeper truth: Nigeria was strongest when its regions collaborated, not when they competed. The question now is whether the nation can rebuild that sense of shared destiny.

A Question for Readers

Can Nigeria ever heal from the political decisions that shattered its regional bonds — and can ordinary Nigerians choose unity again where politicians created division?