Elected in 2023 as a Catholic priest-turned-politician, Alia rode a wave of populist fervor, vowing to heal the wounds of insecurity, rebuild shattered infrastructure, and foster equity in the “Food Basket of the Nation.”
In the sun-scorched farmlands of Benue State, where the Benue River once symbolized abundance but now witnesses rivers of blood, Governor Hyacinth Alia, affectionately dubbed “Father Alia” by his supporters, promised a messianic intervention.
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Elected in 2023 as a Catholic priest-turned-politician, Alia rode a wave of populist fervor, vowing to heal the wounds of insecurity, rebuild shattered infrastructure, and foster equity in the “Food Basket of the Nation.”
Yet, two years into his tenure, what unfolds is not redemption but a textbook case of neo-patrimonial populism: a governance style where personal loyalties trump institutional integrity, favoritism masquerades as empowerment, and the clamor for applause drowns out the cries of the dying. This administration, far from being a beacon of hope, has devolved into a patronage machine that rewards kin and cronies while the state bleeds.
Neo-patrimonialism, as political theorists like Robert Fatton describe it, blends modern state structures with traditional clientelism, where leaders dispense resources not on merit but to consolidate power through personal networks. Alia’s rule exemplifies this: a priestly facade of benevolence overlaying a core of ethnic favoritism and nepotistic entrenchment.
His hometown of Vandeikya Local Government Area (LGA) in Benue North-East senatorial district has become the epicenter of state largesse, while other places, such as the Sankera intermediary area and particularly the marginalized Benue South, languish in neglect. Critics, including political analyst Kelly Agaba of the Citizens Coalition, have lambasted Alia for “favoring his own group rather than serving the entire state,” with the Benue South feeling “particularly marginalized.”
This is no mere oversight; it’s a calculated strategy. The establishment of the University of Agriculture, Science, and Technology at Ihugh in Vandeikya, approved by the National Universities Commission in May 2025, stands as a glaring emblem of this bias. While touted as a boost for agricultural innovation in a state where farming is lifeblood, its location reeks of hometown glorification, sidelining urgent needs in hotspots like Agatu or Guma, where herder-farmer clashes have displaced thousands.
Nepotism extends beyond geography to the corridors of power. Alia’s cabinet and appointments read like a family reunion: close associates from his clerical and ethnic circles dominate key posts, from the Benue Investment and Property Company (BIPC) to security outfits. This cronyism has bred inefficiency and resentment, with opposition voices decrying it as “clannishness” unfit for a priest who once preached universality.
The Yongo-Tiev Community Development Association’s dismissal of fraud allegations against Alia in September 2025 as “baseless” only underscores how ethnic solidarity shields the administration from scrutiny, even as whispers of a N345.3 billion misappropriation swirl. In a state where civil servants and pensioners still grapple with unpaid gratuities inherited from prior regimes, such insularity erodes trust and perpetuates poverty.
Worse still is Alia’s intolerable stance toward dissident voices, a crackdown that stifles the very democracy he swore to uphold. From denying bail to PDP members like Paul Terhemba Gyenger for daring to critique his “one-man regime” in August 2023, to warning Rep. Philip Agbese in September 2024 to “focus on legislative duties” the most recent arrest of Asom Jerry, rather than state administration critiques, Alia has weaponized state machinery against opposition. The African Action Congress (AAC) condemned his June 2025 “military-style crackdown” on peaceful protesters, decrying insecurity, labeling it a “brute force” betrayal of leadership.
Open letters from Jesuit priest Rev. Matthew Ma urged Alia to embrace constructive criticism as “an opportunity for personal growth,” yet his responses, alleging “orchestrated campaigns of misinformation” to destabilize his rule, betray a thin-skinned authoritarianism. In Benue, where the press and civil society once held governors accountable, public criticism now invites reprisal, turning democratic discourse into a perilous endeavor.
This suppression dovetails with a crass failure to tackle insecurity, the albatross that has defined Benue’s agony for over a decade. Despite campaign pledges to end farmer-herder violence and resettle over 1.5 million IDPs, Alia’s tenure has witnessed escalated carnage: over 100 killed in coordinated attacks across LGAs in June 2025, the killing of scores of joint security personnel on a border patrol on September 20, 2025, alone. Former Governor Samuel Ortom’s June 2025 rebuke, “stop playing games with insecurity”, highlights Alia’s deflection: blaming “foreign herders” or “Abuja politicians” while providing scant logistics to security agencies, leaving camps without fuel or food. Rep. Terseer Ugbor accused Alia of ignoring warnings from SGF George Akume, leading to a “state of anarchy.”
The Quick Response Squad (QRS) launched in July 2025, merging vigilantes and hunters, feels like a band-aid on a hemorrhage, reactive, under-resourced, and ineffective against armed incursions. Alia’s rejection of self-defense calls in favor of “community policing” rings hollow amid mass burials, as Atiku Abubakar and civil groups demand justice.
Compounding this tragedy is Alia’s embarkation on white elephant projects laced with populist undertones, grand gestures that dazzle but deliver little. The High-Level Underpass in Makurdi, inspected in August 2025, and the N50 million cash-plus-bungalow award to footballer Francisca Ordega for WAFCON glory, exemplify this: flashy optics amid famine. Wheelbarrow distributions under “Hyacinth Cares” in July 2025, echoing Ortom’s ill-fated 2017 scheme, drew scorn as “tone-deaf” palliatives for women in insecurity-ravaged farms, ignoring calls for fertilizers or grants.
These initiatives, branded with Alia’s priestly persona, mask fiscal profligacy: BIPC’s ventures like the Nylon Plant or ZEVA Beer smack of vanity over viability, diverting funds from IDP resettlement or anti-grazing enforcement. As X users lament, “Benue is drowning in insecurity… yet Gov. Alia splashes for PR,” the populism curdles into cynicism.
Finally, the rise of political thuggery under Alia marks a devolution from his vows of equity. Once a state where “thuggery was not part of politics,” Benue now sees opposition parties like APGA and NNPP decry its resurgence since May 2023, with “central youths” allegedly patronized for intimidation.
The Coalition of Political Parties’ May 2024 alarm, “thuggery elevated to state religion”, ties this to Alia’s sidelining of stakeholders, fostering a cult of personality where dissent invites violence. Even as Alia denies Benue youths are “thugs,” the pattern persists: protests quashed, critics harassed, and elections marred by muscle over merit. The popularization of the “slogan No Alia No Benue ” is an attestation to this fact.
Father Alia’s collar may symbolize service, but his governance reeks of self-preservation. Neo-patrimonial populism has turned Benue into a fiefdom, where Vandeikya’s sons feast while others fast. The blood of the slain demands more than sermons; it cries for statesmanship. Heed Ortom’s plea: “Dragging my name won’t end the killings.” Prioritize security over spectacles, equity over ethnicity, dialogue over diktats. Or risk being remembered not as savior, but as another shepherd who scattered the flock. Benue’s resurrection awaits a true father, not a fleeting patriarch.