There was a time when being Nigerian was synonymous with pride, resilience, and ingenuity. Unfortunately, that pride is increasingly being overshadowed by a harsh reality: Nigerians may not be as smart, brave, or capable as we often portray ourselves to be. Our historical and contemporary experiences seem to suggest a troubling dependency on external supervision to thrive. Nigeria flourished under colonial administration, not because of its imposed nature but due to the structured systems the colonial masters left behind. Today, we find success abroad under the structured governance of foreign lands, but we fail to replicate this success in our homeland. This discrepancy raises uncomfortable questions about our national character and capability.
The phenomenon of "japa," the mass emigration of Nigerians seeking greener pastures abroad, is often celebrated as an act of ambition. Yet, upon closer scrutiny, it reveals itself as an act of cowardice and resignation. It symbolizes not just an escape from oppressive leadership but also a betrayal of the collective responsibility to fight for the betterment of our nation. By fleeing, we inadvertently admit that we, as citizens, are as complicit in our country’s decline as the leaders we blame. Corruption permeates every layer of society, and our passive acceptance of oppression exposes a lack of courage and self-respect.
Reasonable people resist bad governance, election rigging, or military dictatorship; they do not waste energy and financial resources fleeing their country and masking the act with a sophisticated term like japa.
Consider what recently happened in South Korea: instead of running away in fear of death, the people stood their ground and resisted the president’s declaration of martial law. The legislators impeached the president for declaring a state of emergency. Two weeks later, they also impeached the acting president for stalling the appointment of two justices to the Constitutional Court, which would evaluate the trial of the impeached president. Several officials who carried out the illegal orders were arrested, and the second acting president is now on high alert, knowing he too could face impeachment if he falters.
Had such a situation occurred in Nigeria, the outcome would likely have been different. The state of emergency would have been enforced without resistance, the legislature would have capitulated to the president’s demands, citizens would have remained silent, and any protests would have been quelled by exploiting ethnic and religious divisions. Meanwhile, the judiciary might have legitimized the state of emergency without question.
The shame of being Nigerian is not rooted in our culture or potential but in the dissonance between our self-image and reality. We pride ourselves on being giants in Africa, yet our achievements on the global stage are individual, not collective. As a nation, we have become a “big-for-nothing” entity, with citizens who exaggerate their worth while ignoring the systemic failures that undermine us.
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