Today, Nigeria marks 65 years of independence, a milestone that invites celebration but sober reflection. On October 1, 1960, the British Union Jack was lowered and the green-white-green flag was raised, heralding the birth of Africa’s most populous country and one of its most ambitious experiments in democracy and federalism.
Sixty-five years on, Nigeria stands at a critical juncture — caught between the legacy of its promise and the weight of its shortcomings. The country has survived civil war, military dictatorships, economic recessions, terror insurgencies, and multiple political transitions. It has also grown into a regional powerhouse, a cultural giant, and an emerging voice on the global stage.
But survival is not success. And age alone does not confer maturity. The challenge before Nigeria at 65 is not just how to commemorate its past — but how to define its future.
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Nigeria was born not of natural consensus, but of colonial convenience. Over 250 ethnic groups, multiple religions, and divergent worldviews were stitched together into a federal arrangement that was, from the start, fraught with tension.
The euphoria of independence quickly gave way to political unrest. The First Republic collapsed under the weight of regionalism and ethnic rivalry, leading to a series of military coups and, ultimately, a brutal civil war that claimed over a million lives from 1967 to 1970.
Yet in the ashes of that conflict, Nigeria recommitted itself to unity, albeit under military rule that destroyed the fabrics of the country’s rise to true independence in all ramifications. The return to democracy in 1999 was another defining moment — the beginning of the Fourth Republic and the longest stretch of civilian governance in the country’s history.
To deny Nigeria’s progress would be intellectually dishonest.
Democracy, though flawed, has endured. Since 1999, five presidents have been elected — some peacefully unseated through the ballot.
Economic growth, particularly in the 2000s, railroaded millions from middle class into abysmal level, even weaponised hunger among the talakawas. The so-called economic stability propagated by the present administration is mere pontification.
Education, though uneven, has expanded access across all regions. Literacy rates have improved steadily over the decades, though most tertiary institutions remain hollow in standard and in research that would alter our colonial dependence on foreign goods and services.
Nigerian culture — from music to film to literature — is now a global export. Afrobeats reverberates in Los Angeles and Tokyo. Nollywood tells African stories to the world. Writers like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Wole Soyinka (Nobel Laureate) and Professor Uwem Akpan have brought Nigerian intellect to global stages.
Foreign policy leadership in Africa, especially through ECOWAS and peacekeeping contributions, has positioned Nigeria as a diplomatic anchor on the continent.
Even amidst insecurity and economic hardship, Nigerians remain among the most resilient, creative, and enterprising people on earth.
But there is no denying the deep fractures that still threaten the republic.
Insecurity remains the greatest threat to Nigeria’s cohesion. From Boko Haram insurgents in the North-East, to bandits in the North-West, to separatist agitations in the South-East, Nigeria’s monopoly on legitimate violence is dangerously weak.
Corruption remains systemic and leprous. Despite anti-graft institutions like the EFCC and ICPC, the looting of public resources continues with impunity. Many public institutions exist in name only, hollowed out by decades of rent-seeking and patronage.
Unemployment — especially youth unemployment — has created a generation of disillusioned Nigerians. Many have fled the country in what is now referred to as the Japa phenomenon, a vote of no confidence in the country’s ability to provide security and opportunity for the young but energetic ones.
Elections, though frequent, are often flawed. The 2023 general elections once again revealed persistent issues: voter suppression, technological failures, and judicial controversies that undermine public trust in democracy.
Education and healthcare, the bedrock of any modern nation, remain underfunded and inaccessible to millions. Strikes, dilapidated infrastructure, and brain drain plague both sectors.
Federalism, in its current form, is deeply dysfunctional. The over-centralization of power in Abuja has eroded local governance and fostered a culture of dependency among states.
At 65, Nigeria cannot afford to stumble forward in the dark, guided only by resilience. What is required now is clarity of purpose, bold reform, and genuine leadership.
First, Nigeria must return to the fundamentals: rule of law, justice, and the sanctity of the constitution. No society can thrive where the law is subject to manipulation or selective enforcement.
Second, the structure of the federation must be reformed. True federalism — where states can control their resources, run their security apparatus, and compete for innovation — is not a luxury. It is a necessity.
Third, the political class must move beyond ethnic patronage and build national consensus around economic growth, education, climate resilience, and digital inclusion. The challenges of the 21st century will not be solved by recycled ideas and personalities.
Fourth, we must invest in the people. No reform is meaningful if Nigerians continue to die from preventable diseases, flee from kidnappers, or go days without electricity. A prosperous Nigeria starts with safe communities, good schools, and functional hospitals.
Finally, the citizens must engage. Democracy is not a spectator sport. The responsibility for Nigeria’s transformation lies not only with leaders, but with the electorate, the media, civil society, and everyday Nigerians who refuse to normalize dysfunction.
Nigeria at 65 is a country in motion — not quite where it was, but not yet where it ought to be.
The real question is not whether Nigeria has potential — it always has. The question is whether it can finally convert that potential into sustained progress for the many, not the few.
As Chinua Achebe once said, “The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership.”
But leadership is not just about those in office. It is about direction. And courage. And a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths.
As we mark this independence anniversary, let us move from nostalgia to urgency — and from survival to actual nation-building.
The clock is ticking. The world is watching. And the time to get it right is now.
