On Tuesday night, I found myself on Charles Aniagolu’s Arise TV program, debating alongside Dele Farotimi and Professor Jibrin Ibrahim. The core of our discussion centered on a provocative perspective I hold: most Nigerians today deserve poor leadership because they consistently fail to protest meaningfully against the endless injustices and deficits in governance they endure.
Nigeria possesses the inherent potential to be Africa’s giant, a thriving hub for the black world, and a source of deep pride for our global Diaspora. Instead, we are tethered by the combined weight of corrupt, cynical, and inept politicians and civil servants across all tiers of government. My greatest frustration remains a simple question: Why do we not rebel more, and why do we not rebel with genuine force?
The Allergic Reaction to Active Protest
There will always be a handful of full-time or occasional activists—individuals with a naturally low tolerance for nonsense—willing to risk the wrath of the Establishment to highlight its failings. Yet, these courageous individuals are few and far between, and they rarely manage to galvanize active support from the general population. I simply cannot grasp why the average citizen seems so allergic to meaningful protest.
I am not singling out President Bola Tinubu here; my disillusionment with the average Nigerian’s submissiveness predates his administration entirely. The pattern is painfully consistent:
- When authorities conduct an intelligence-insulting election that is blatantly fraudulent, robbing voters of their chance to choose their representatives, the victims do nothing.
- When systemic unfairness, crippling hunger, infrastructural collapse, and terrifying insecurity make life almost impossible for the majority, those who suffer most from these avoidable problems do nothing.
- When an avaricious, contemptuous elite hijacks collective resources, steals us blind, and engages in heartbreaking levels of conspicuous consumption—private jets and obscenely expensive cars—while ordinary folks struggle for healthcare and education, ordinary folks do zilch.
I became particularly disillusioned when a state of emergency was imposed on Rivers State, my home. Instead of the majority of indigenes taking to the streets, even the governor, Sim Fubara, seemed to shrug, accepting the undemocratic outrage. Fubara went so far as to practically insult the few of us prepared to fight on his behalf, effectively telling us to mind our own business, and then, upon reinstatement, proceeded to thank his tormentors.
The Price of Complacency
Frankly, the authorities are still messing with Fubara, dictating his associations, and I have to say, it serves him right. I have never tolerated weak, doormattish individuals. And while Fubara’s tormentors are monstrously obnoxious, I grudgingly prefer them because, at least, they possess courage and self-esteem.
It may seem unkind to blame the victims—Fubara or the millions of Nigerians being shortchanged—but as I argued on Arise, if you passively put up with garbage, you are far more likely to have garbage inflicted upon you. Nigerians will complain bitterly in private gatherings and beer parlours, yet they consistently fail to act when massive indignities are dumped squarely on their heads.
Is this inaction cowardice? Is it a myopic inability to recognize the immense potential power that sustained protest holds? Or is it a case of focusing on short-sighted, short-term self-interest instead of the enlightened self-interest that would yield far better long-term results?
I may be wrong, but I believe President Tinubu, himself a former activist, possesses a reasonable streak. He would likely deliver more democratic dividends if the Nigerian people would put him on the spot beyond social media whinges, demanding more in a sustained and significant way. The opposition leaders, meanwhile, are simply not being aggressive enough to force the issue.
Activism today feels like a thankless, exhausting job. At 65, the same age as Nigeria, I feel a deep gloom about the future. As we “celebrate” yet another Independence Day, I find myself yearning to be liberated—not from a colonial master, but from this cycle of pain, failure, and crushing disappointment.
