By Osemudiamen Oziegbe
When a university is in distress, is silence a strategy—or a slow surrender? When Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma is clearly buckling under the weight of administrative fragility, should Governor Monday Okpebholo be fed reassuring half-truths, or the hard facts necessary for decisive action?
Let us be blunt: can a broken system be fixed by the same hands presiding over its decline?
If the Governor’s SHINE Agenda is truly about renewal, then where is the evidence that the current management embodies renewal? Where is the intellectual gravitas? Where is the administrative distinction? Where is the measurable academic impact that commands respect beyond Ekpoma?
In a world where universities compete on global platforms, where research visibility and citation indices are not luxuries but necessities, can AAU afford a Vice-Chancellor whose academic footprint is barely visible? Can a vice chancellor with negligible citation impact convincingly market the university to the world, attract collaborations, or inspire scholarly excellence?
And if leadership at the top management level is thin, what of the supporting pillars?
How does a Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Administration) like the current one, whose greatest credential is his blood lineage relationship with the Governor, without a recognizable global academic presence command authority in an institution that desperately needs credibility? Is administrative leadership now a matter of convenience rather than competence? Is absence of visibility now acceptable in a role that demands influence, networks, and intellectual weight?
Yes, the Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Academic) may appear more visible than the others—but is “better than weak” now our standard for leadership? Since when did relative visibility become a substitute for excellence? Should AAU settle for “the best among the inadequate,” or insist on truly competitive leadership?
Here is the uncomfortable question: are these appointments a product of merit—or merely geography?
If the justification is that they come from Edo Central, must the university then accept mediocrity in the name of representation? Are there no more accomplished, globally respected, and administratively seasoned professors from the same region? Or is AAU being asked to trade excellence for expediency?
And if better options exist—as many insist they do—why were they ignored? Who made that decision? On what criteria? And why should the university pay the price for it?
Governor Okpebholo must confront an unavoidable truth: you cannot drive a 21st-century university with 20th-century credentials. You cannot demand global relevance from management that has not achieved it. You cannot rebuild a collapsing institution by recycling weak structures.
So the question is simple: should AAU Ekpoma be rescued—or managed into further decline?
Because what is at stake here is not just appointments; it is the soul of the institution. Every day this management remains, the university loses ground—academically, reputationally, and structurally. Can the Governor afford that drift?
Let us not pretend: regime change is no longer optional—it is inevitable. But will it come early enough to save the university, or too late to matter?
Will the Governor act decisively, or be persuaded to tolerate a status quo that is clearly failing? Will he choose loyalty over legacy, or courage over comfort?
History will not remember the explanations—it will remember the decision.
And when that moment is judged, one question will echo louder than all others:
When AAU Ekpoma needed bold intervention, did Governor Monday Okpebholo act—or did he listen to what he must not hear?
*** Osemudiamen John Oziegbe,PHD, is an alumnus of AAU, EKPOMA Based in Canada
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