Power Fades, Legacy Endures: Chief Tony Anenih, the Leader

The true measure of a leader is not the power he exercises while alive, but the lives he touches and the values that endure long after he is gone.

I first heard the name Chief Tony Anenih in 1981 or 1982. I remember the occasion vividly because the conversation took place in our family living room in Benin City, shortly after my parents had completed their National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) programme following several years of study in the United States.

My uncle, Barrister Eze Isitor, and my father, Albert Ogbe Asiwe (AO), were discussing an employment opportunity in a federal parastatal. At some point during their conversation, my uncle turned to my father and said, “AO, tomorrow, let’s go and see Tony.”

Those were the politically consequential years of the Unity Party of Nigeria (UPN) and the National Party of Nigeria (NPN), when party affiliations and personal relationships played significant roles in Nigeria’s public life. Chief Tony Anenih was then a prominent figure in the NPN.

My uncle and father eventually went to see him, and my father subsequently secured the job.

As a child, I could not have understood the full significance of that conversation. I saw it simply as two family members discussing an employment opportunity. I did not yet appreciate how personal relationships, political influence and the willingness to help others could shape the course of a person's life. But the name Tony Anenih stayed with me.

Nearly two decades later, in 2000, I encountered him again, this time not as a child listening to adults discuss politics, but as a young professional beginning to navigate the intersections of public service, politics and the media.

I was then working as a media assistant to a minister of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. An encounter prompted by information I had come across about Chief Anenih eventually brought me to his office at the Federal Ministry of Works.

That meeting opened a new chapter. Following our conversation, I began undertaking media-related assignments for him privately, an arrangement that continued until I left Nigeria in 2002.

Looking back, I find it remarkable that a name first introduced to me in a family living room would eventually become part of my own professional experience. Between those two encounters lay almost twenty years of personal growth, political change and a deeper understanding of how influence operates in public life.

My connection to Chief Anenih was therefore not merely a matter of political history. It was also a personal journey that began through my father and uncle and later developed through my own professional engagement with him.

It is against this background that the events of yesterday, when political leaders and other dignitaries gathered to honour the late Dan Orbih, hold particular significance for me.

Although the gathering was organised in honour of Chief Orbih, the name of Chief Tony Anenih repeatedly featured in conversations. Speaker after speaker recalled his political influence, generosity, personal relationships and the opportunities he created for others.

It was a striking reminder that a person's influence can extend far beyond the boundaries of public office and even beyond the grave. That, to me, is the essence of legacy.

The true test of political loyalty
Political power is transient. Offices change hands, alliances shift, and yesterday's influential figures can become tomorrow's footnotes. But the impact of genuine human relationships can endure long after political titles have lost their relevance.

A leader who opens doors for others, provides opportunities and helps people find their footing in life creates a legacy that cannot be measured solely by electoral victories or the positions he occupies.

Yet there is a contradiction in our political culture that deserves serious reflection.

Concerns have been raised about alleged opposition to the interests of Chief Anenih's children by individuals who publicly celebrate his contributions and political legacy. These allegations, which must be assessed on their merits, raise an important question about the meaning of loyalty and gratitude in public life.

What does it mean to celebrate a man's achievements publicly while allegedly acting against the interests of his family?

Does loyalty end when a benefactor dies? Does gratitude become irrelevant once the political calculations change? And can we genuinely claim to honour a leader if the values we associate with his legacy are abandoned whenever they become politically inconvenient?

These are not trivial questions. They go to the heart of political character.

Of course, no individual is automatically entitled to political support simply because of family connections. Democracy does not confer public office through inheritance, and the children of prominent politicians must be prepared to earn the confidence of voters on their own merits.

Equally, however, political competition should not become an excuse for vindictiveness, intimidation or the deliberate obstruction of another person's legitimate ambition.

If the allegations surrounding opposition to Chief Anenih's children are substantiated, they would warrant serious scrutiny. Public tributes to a departed leader should be consistent with the principles of fairness, integrity and respect for others that give such tributes meaning.

As the Pidgin English expression would have it: Una see am?

Akin Anenih and the question before the electorate
The discussion becomes particularly relevant in the case of Akin Anenih, one of Chief Tony Anenih's sons, who is seeking election to the House of Representatives for Esan North-East/Esan South-East Federal Constituency.

His ambition raises questions that extend beyond his family name and the political history associated with it.

What does he bring to the table? What is his vision for the constituency? How does he intend to address the concerns of his constituents? What ideas, experience and commitment to public service distinguish his candidacy? These are the questions that should guide voters.

At the same time, it is reasonable to reflect on the obligations of those who benefited from Chief Anenih's political mentorship, goodwill or personal assistance. Where such relationships existed, what do they reveal about the character of the people involved when the opportunity arises to demonstrate gratitude and fairness?

If Chief Tony Anenih were alive today and his son were seeking this legislative seat, how would those who benefited from his leadership respond?

Would they give Akin a fair hearing? Would they judge his candidacy on its merits? Would they offer the same goodwill and encouragement that they once received from his father?

Or would political expediency take precedence over the relationships and values they now invoke in celebrating the elder Anenih?

These questions are not a demand that anyone surrender personal convictions or abandon a preferred candidate. Nor should anyone be expected to support a political aspirant solely because of the identity of his father.

Rather, they are an invitation to examine the consistency between what we say about leadership and how we behave when political interests are at stake.

A legacy is not honoured merely by repeating a departed leader's name at public gatherings. It is honoured when the principles associated with that leader find expression in our conduct.

Beyond sentiment: the responsibility to serve
My support for  Akhakon "Akin" Anenih is clear, and I make no apology for stating it. I believe he deserves a fair opportunity to present his vision, engage the electorate and demonstrate what he can contribute to the development of Esan North-East and Esan South-East Federal Constituency.

That support, however, should not exempt him from scrutiny. On the contrary, the responsibility to justify public confidence rests with every aspirant, regardless of family background or political connections.

The people of the constituency deserve representation that is responsive, accessible and effective. They deserve a representative who understands their challenges, advances their interests and recognises that a seat in the National Assembly is a public trust, not a personal possession.

Ultimately, voters must make their decisions based on competence, credibility, character, vision and the capacity to deliver meaningful results.

My argument is simple: give Akin Anenih a fair opportunity to make his case. Let him be judged by what he stands for, what he promises and, above all, what he can deliver.

Fairness demands that political competition should be guided by principles rather than personal animosities. Democracy is strengthened when candidates are allowed to compete on their merits and voters are free to make informed choices.

What legacy will we leave behind?
There is a question every person who exercises political power should periodically ask: Twenty, thirty or forty years from now, what story will people tell about me?

Will they remember me as someone who opened doors, kept faith with people and used influence to improve lives? Will they remember me as a leader who helped nurture the next generation and understood that public office carried responsibilities beyond personal advancement?

Or will my name be associated with intimidation, political vendettas, broken relationships and the destruction of people who once stood beside me?

These questions are especially important in a political environment where public praise can sometimes be abundant while private conduct tells a different story.

Chief Tony Anenih's enduring place in the political consciousness of many Nigerians demonstrates the lasting power of relationships and influence. His name continues to evoke memories of political organisation, personal connections and the opportunities he helped create for others.

My own experience, beginning with that conversation between my father and uncle in the early 1980s and continuing with my professional encounter with him in 2000, reminds me that a person's influence often travels through unexpected channels and across generations.

But the ultimate value of such influence depends on what it produces in the lives of others.

The legacy of a leader should inspire us to build, not destroy; to encourage, not intimidate; and to create opportunities rather than close doors for others.

As we remember those who have shaped our political history, we must also ask whether we are living up to the ideals we publicly celebrate.

For me, the answer begins with a commitment to fairness, consistency and the belief that political ambition must ultimately serve the people.

I Stand With  Akhakon "Akin" Anenih.

I believe he deserves the opportunity to present his agenda to the electorate and earn their mandate. I also believe that the people of Esan North-East/Esan South-East Federal Constituency must remain at the centre of this conversation. Their future, their development and their representation are more important than the political interests of any individual or faction.

Let the contest be fair. Let the arguments be about ideas and capacity. Let the electorate decide.

And let those who invoke Chief Tony Anenih's name in public remember that the most meaningful tribute to any leader is not the applause that accompanies a memorial gathering, but the principles we uphold when the cameras are gone and the political calculations begin.

Power is temporary. Political office is temporary. Victories are temporary. But character, service and the consequences of our actions can endure for generations.

By Emmanuel Emeke Asiwe(EEA), Publisher/Editor-in-Chief