How Okpebholo’s ‘Shine Agenda’ Is Addressing Edo’s 35-Year Reckoning (1)

By Dr. Patrick Akhere Ebojele

In 1991 General Ibrahim Babangida regime, carved Edo State out of the old Bendel state and that was beginning its peculiar journey — neither entirely in the southwest’s sophisticated political machinery, nor quite aligned with the midwestern traditions that once defined the region. Thirty-five years later, has it truly progressed?

To understand the present, one must reckon with the past. Edo State’s first three decades were defined by cycles of promise and disappointment, ambition pursued and abandoned, leaders who arrived with grand visions only to leave behind incomplete legacies.

The early years, through the 1990s and into the early 2000s, were shaped by what many observers describe as the state’s attempt to find an identity. Under successive administrations, Edo pursued an image centered on tourism — particularly Benin’s historical monuments and cultural heritage. The Benin National Museum, the Oba’s Palace, the city’s artistic traditions all received attention and investment. Yet tourism alone could not drive meaningful economic development. The state remained largely dependent on federal allocation, lacking the diversified revenue base that might have insulated it from national economic downturns. For decades, Edo was a place of cultural pride but limited economic opportunity.

The security situation, particularly in the Edo South senatorial district, became increasingly problematic. Kidnapping for ransom emerged as a recurring threat. Cultism, the trafficking of weapons and narcotics, and organized crime networks gradually entrenched themselves in certain communities. By the 2010s, these issues had metastasized into a significant governance challenge that successive administrations struggled to contain. The state was bleeding talent and capital — young people sought opportunities elsewhere, businesses invested cautiously if at all, and the psychological toll of insecurity rippled through ordinary communities.

Infrastructure remained persistently inadequate. Roads that should have been rehabilitated decades earlier continued to deteriorate. Benin City itself, despite being Nigeria’s third-largest metropolitan area, lacked coherent urban planning. Drainage systems were absent or non-functional in many neighborhoods, leading to recurring flooding during the rainy season. The Ramat Park area, which should have been developed into a world-class leisure and commercial hub long before now, remained largely underdeveloped — a symbol of how Edo’s potential consistently exceeded its execution.

The healthcare sector exemplified this gap between possibility and reality. While Edo has the University of Benin Teaching Hospital and several other tertiary facilities, they operated under chronic underfunding, staff shortages, and inadequate equipment. Primary healthcare centers in rural areas were often staffed inadequately or not at all. The COVID-19 pandemic exposed these vulnerabilities in stark relief, revealing how years of deferred maintenance and insufficient investment had left the state’s health infrastructure fragile.

Education too reflected this pattern. Ambrose Alli University, established with considerable fanfare, struggled with inconsistent funding cycles. Teacher recruitment and training were perpetually irregular. While some secondary schools maintained respectable standards, the overall quality of education remained uneven, with rural areas particularly underserved. The state’s inability to retain educated talent — through competitive salaries, professional development, or career pathways — meant that Edo State was educating people for other regions’ benefit, not its own.

Politically, these decades witnessed significant transitions. The state experienced the dominance of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) across much of the 2000s and 2010s, followed by a gradual shift toward the All Progressives Congress (APC). These electoral cycles brought different personalities to Osedebey Avenue, and each governor arrived with rhetoric about transformation and development. Some like Senator Adams Oshiomhole, delivered genuine improvements — particular administrations invested visibly in infrastructure, education, or healthcare. But momentum was often lost with electoral transitions. Projects initiated under his administration were abandoned by his successor. Strategic coherence was rare. Edo state governance read less like a long-term vision and more like a succession of four-year experiments.

The agricultural potential of Edo State remained substantially underdeveloped. Despite fertile soils and favorable climate conditions, agricultural production remained largely subsistence-based. There was no comprehensive strategy to transform farming into an engine of rural development, job creation, or export earnings. The natural resources endowment — the state’s forests, its position as a gateway to natural mineral deposits — similarly received sporadic attention but no sustained strategic investment.

By 2024, as Governor Monday Okpebholo prepared to assume office, Edo State presented a mixed portrait. There were genuine achievements: a tourism infrastructure that attracted visitors, cultural institutions of some standing, educational facilities and healthcare infrastructure that, despite limitations, represented significant public investment. But there was also a pervasive sense that the state was underperforming relative to its potential. Security remained a substantial concern. Economic diversification had stalled. Youth unemployment was a visible and troubling reality. The state’s relationship with the federal government — particularly in accessing development projects and resources commensurate with its size and status — often felt like an afterthought in national planning.

–Dr. Ebojele, PhD in Public Administration, is the Chief Press Secretary to Governor Monday Okpebholo of Edo State.

(To be concluded)