Rivers beyond the noise, By Tamunokuro Nyegime

When emergency rule was declared in Rivers State and Vice Admiral Ibok-Ete Ibas (rtd) was appointed as Sole Administrator on March 18, 2025, many feared the worst. The state had just endured a harrowing period of political hostilities, executive-legislative gridlock, and a collapse of institutional order. The situation was so dire that salaries were unpaid, council leaderships had become lawless, budgets were suspended, and public morale lay flat on the ground. Yet four months into his quiet and firm stewardship, Rivers has registered some of the most meaningful governance gains in recent memory—not through fanfare or political drama, but through focused service delivery and deliberate de-escalation.

Vice Admiral Ibas arrived not with blaring sirens of partisanship but with the calm precision of a seasoned officer committed to public duty. While controversy raged about the legality and propriety of his appointment, he simply rolled up his sleeves and went to work. His administration’s approach was not to deepen the political trenches or trade barbs with any party, but to fix what had broken—and fix it he has, methodically and without drama.

One of the first visible gains was the prompt resumption of salary payments to civil servants and pensioners. For months prior, many workers in the state had groaned under the weight of unpaid wages, with ripple effects on household survival and local economies. Ibas made it a priority to clear the backlog and ensure regularity in payment. In a climate where even elected governors delay or politicise wage obligations, this was a signal of seriousness and respect for the labour force.

Then came the budget. Rather than operating without a spending plan or secretly amending previous frameworks, Ibas presented a revised 2025 budget of ₦1.846 trillion—built on realistic projections and a reassessment of unaccounted expenditures by the previous administration. Some had raised eyebrows at the size, but the contents told a different story. It was a budget designed not for headlines but for healing. It prioritised public education, healthcare, climate resilience, infrastructure rehabilitation, and support for youth and women. In a time of austerity, the budget aimed at impact, not impressiveness.

In the health sector, primary healthcare centres that had suffered neglect for months saw renewed attention. Hospitals that were understaffed and undersupplied are now gradually being revived. Medications have started arriving, basic utilities are being restored, and staffing rosters have become more stable. The emphasis is not on erecting new buildings for ribbon-cutting but on restoring functionality to what already exists. After all, for the average Rivers resident, a working health facility is worth more than a press release.

Infrastructure is another space where results are becoming visible. Road maintenance projects, many of them abandoned or forgotten, have resumed in several local government areas, particularly in rural and peri-urban corridors. Instead of announcing fanciful mega-projects that may never be completed, the Ibas administration is focused on completing and sustaining existing works. It is a refreshingly practical approach—one that privileges results over rhetoric.

But perhaps the most under-appreciated success of this administration is its handling of local government accountability. For too long, council leaderships in Rivers operated like parallel governments, with little to no oversight or transparency. Ibas issued a directive for all LGAs to submit two years of financial and project activity reports. The results? For the first time in recent history, there’s a paper trail. And with that trail, comes accountability. By requiring councils to open their books, the administration has quietly re-established a culture of responsibility at the grassroots.

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What makes these achievements notable is not just the fact that they are happening—it is the way they are happening. There are no self-congratulatory billboards plastering the city. No endless political rallies or fawning ceremonies. Just the work. Just delivery. In a political culture where noise often substitutes for substance, Ibas has offered Rivers an alternative governance ethos—one defined by service, not spectacle.

It would be unfair to pretend that all is perfect. The challenges are still steep. Some infrastructure remains in decay. Legal and political tensions still linger. Skeptics still question the temporary nature of the emergency arrangement. But even they cannot deny that something has shifted. The centre is holding again. Public confidence is slowly returning. Civil servants now show up to work. Community leaders now have someone to engage. Even political gladiators are returning to the table of reconciliation, encouraged by the maturity of tone set by the man at the helm.

And that tone matters. In societies emerging from conflict or dysfunction, tone often precedes transformation. A leadership that is calm, measured, and self-effacing can slowly neutralise the toxins of previous conflicts. That is what Ibas has done—not by claiming to have all the answers, but by refusing to be part of the problem.

The administration’s media engagement has also demonstrated thoughtfulness. Instead of dominating the airwaves or deploying propaganda machinery, Ibas’ team has chosen storytelling over showmanship. Radio jingles highlighting peace and unity, op-eds explaining policy direction, and capacity-building for journalists have helped reorient public conversation toward shared recovery. It’s a new template—one that treats citizens not as spectators but as stakeholders.

In marginalised communities, where political noise has often drowned out real development, the impact of this quiet governance is even more appreciated. Women in fishery collectives in Bonny speak of new access to microcredit schemes. Youth groups in Ahoada report renewed government engagement in local entrepreneurship programmes. Health volunteers in Okrika confirm improved access to maternal kits. These might be “small wins” on paper—but on the ground, they are lifelines.

What Rivers is experiencing under emergency rule is not just administrative control; it is a leadership philosophy that centres the people—especially those at the bottom of the pyramid. It reminds us that governance does not always need to come with blaring music and political gymnastics. Sometimes, the most meaningful impact comes in the form of quiet competence, of leadership that is felt more than seen.

As the state approaches what may be the final two months of emergency administration, the question should not be whether Ibas has done enough to justify his appointment. That’s for political historians to debate. The more pressing question is: What happens to this momentum after he leaves? Will Rivers relapse into the politics of noise and neglect, or will this be the start of a more deliberate culture of service?

Time will tell. But one thing is already clear: under Ibas, the people of Rivers have tasted a different kind of leadership—one that doesn’t scream for attention but earns respect through action. That memory will linger, long after the emergency period ends.

■ Tamunokuro Nyegime writes from Lagos.