The blessed Igbo nation carries an ancient proverbs that has survived centuries of Kings, wars and rebirths: “Eze Puo, Eze Anochie” (If a king vacates the throne, the throne does not vacate with him; another king inevitably takes his place.)
This wisdom is older than modern politics and deeper than personal ambition. It teaches a timeless truth about nature: power abhors a vacuum. Nature itself rejects emptiness. Thrones are meant to be occupied. Empires are designed to be administered. Authority does not die because one man exits; it merely changes hands. History proves that no man, no matter how loud his heralds, is the sun around which the world revolves.
Power is not sentimental. It does not mourn individuals. It obeys laws older than politics and truer than loyalty. Like seasons, it shifts. Like tides, it responds to gravity, not ego. Those who understand this govern with restraint; those who do not confuse applause for permanence.
We often fall into the trap of believing that certain individuals are the very air we breathe. In moments of political excitement, charisma is mistaken for capacity, and visibility is confused with value. Slowly, institutions are reduced to personalities, and movements begin to orbit men instead of principles.
Nothing mirrors this ancient saying more accurately than the current reality within the Labour Party.
Life has taught me a sobering lesson that every leader must learn early or painfully later: humility is not weakness, and the feeling of indispensability is an illusion. No individual is the oxygen of an institution. No movement is sustained by one voice, no matter how loud. The moment a man begins to believe that an organization cannot breathe without him, he has already started suffocating it.
History has never been kind to such delusions. Empires collapse not when leaders leave, but when leaders refuse to leave room for growth, dissent, or succession.
The Scripture reinforces this truth with frightening clarity. Prophet Elijah, mighty and anointed, once stood before God in a moment of human frailty and convinced himself that he was the sole flame left in the dark. In that moment of spiritual pride, God corrected him. There were others, stronger and purer, hidden from public view. And when Elijah was finally taken away, heaven did not panic. Elisha emerged with double grace.
God does not recycle fear. He replaces it with capacity.
He does not preserve noise; He advances purpose.
There was a prevailing myth that without a single individual, the Labour Party would crumble into dust. But pride is a deceptive architect, and today that myth has been shattered. What was presented as destiny was only dominance. What was sold as indispensability was merely loud presence.
Since the departure of noise, erratic behavior, and toxic dispositions from the Labour Party, something profound has happened. The atmosphere feels cleansed. The space feels lighter. Minds that were once distracted can now think clearly. Leadership conversations have become calmer, deeper, and more strategic.
It drained the room. It exhausted the spirit. It confused urgency with disorder and movement with meaning. When the noise left, clarity returned. When the shouting ceased, thinking resumed.
What many mistook for strength was actually turbulence. What was celebrated as passion had become pollution.
Sometimes, survival demands courageous separation.
Sometimes, growth requires painful distance from chaotic ties.
Sometimes, mental health and institutional progress depend on walking away from relationships that drain rather than build.
The Labour Party was once prophesied to collapse if Peter Obi left, as though he were the breath sustaining its lungs. That narrative has now been exposed as false. History has a way of humbling exaggerated myths. Instead of dying, the party began to breathe again. Instead of suffocating, it found balance. What many feared would kill the party was, in truth, what saved it.
Years from now, when analysts retrace the turning points of this era, they will not only count elections won or lost. They will mark the moment when the Labour Party rediscovered itself by shedding excess ego and reclaiming institutional sanity.
Today, Dr. Yusuf Datti Ahmed stands celebrated within the Labour Party, not because of propaganda, but because character endures where noise expires. His integrity has been tested under intense pressure and found authentic. In an era where conviction is often traded for convenience, he remained steady. Where others shouted, he stood firm. Where others postured, he preserved principle.
He is a treasure long hidden on the island of discovery, now revealed in its season. A man of calm presence, commanding without aggression, powerful without pretence, firm without hypocrisy. Leadership, after all, is not volume; it is substance.
Nations are not rebuilt by theatrics but by temperament. In moments of national fatigue, history often turns away from the dramatic and chooses the disciplined.
As 2027 approaches, Nigeria should prepare for surprises. Political equations will shift. Old assumptions will collapse. Familiar games will change. And the nation will once again learn a hard but liberating truth: it does not take a noise maker to rescue a nation.
History is not shaped by the loudest voices, but by the steadiest hands.
Not by those who dominate headlines, but by those who endure storms.
Not by men who think they are kings forever, but by those who understand that when one king leaves, another must rise.
Empires fall when men confuse themselves with destiny. They endure when leaders understand they are only chapters, not the entire book.
Eze puo.
Eze anochie.
And history moves on
POWER, PRIDE AND ILLUSION BY MECHE OSWALD
