Faced with a paralyzed state every Monday, Anambra Governor Chukwuma Soludo has launched a counterattack—not against the shadowy enforcers of the sit-at-home, but against the very citizens and traders his government is meant to protect, while making unsubstantiated claims of a political conspiracy.
Punishing the Victims, Not Protecting Them
In a controversial move that has drawn sharp criticism, Governor Soludo’s primary response to the lockdown crippling markets in Onitsha and Nnewi has been to impose a government-ordered shutdown of the Onitsha Main Market itself. Instead of guaranteeing security for traders to open, his administration has punished them for their fear, shutting the market for a week with a threat to extend it by two more.
This tactic of threatening livelihoods to compel economic activity has been condemned by analysts as counterproductive and authoritarian. “You cannot restore confidence by destroying people’s means of survival,” argued political economist Dr. Chidi Nwafor. “The governor is fighting the symptom—closed shops—instead of the disease, which is a palpable fear of violent reprisal.”
A Conspiracy Theory Over Concrete Action
While wielding state power against traders, Soludo has offered the public a convenient scapegoat: unnamed rival politicians. At a press briefing, he dismissed the widespread, well-documented fear of IPOB-enforced violence as a “coordinated effort by individuals I call enemies of the state,” framing it as political “economic sabotage.”
However, he provided no evidence to support this explosive claim. Security experts note that the sit-at-home, initially declared by IPOB factions, is enforced through brutal violence, including shootings and arson, against defiers. By attributing it solely to political foes, Soludo sidesteps his administration’s core constitutional duty: to provide security so citizens can safely go about their lives.
Empty Threats and a Failure of Security
The governor’s heavy-handed rhetoric escalated to direct threats against property rights. He asserted that the market “belongs to the Anambra State Government” and warned he could “revoke shop ownership rights… and take over the market.” This attempt to strong-arm compliance has sparked legal challenges and deepened distrust, with traders’ unions accusing the governor of bullying the vulnerable instead of confronting the armed enforcers of the lockdown.
For the traders of Onitsha, the fear is not abstract. Their reluctance to open is a rational response to a well-founded threat of violence—a threat the state security apparatus has repeatedly failed to neutralize. Soludo’s strategy of closing markets, threatening confiscation, and blaming political opponents offers them no protection, only further hardship.
In the end, the governor’s bold claim and punitive measures do nothing to answer the people’s most urgent question: when will they be safe enough to open their shops on a Monday without fearing for their lives?
