A Generation’s Cry for Change

Femi Akintunde-Johnson

You cannot fault our current office holders of mental indolence – they are always planning and shuffling ideas and strategies in dealing with sundry issues bedeviling the nation. To what extent those schemes work positively is another matter entirely. Such is the latest brainwave of a 30-day conference for the Nigerian youth tucked into the president’s recent independence day broadcast. Hear him: “As we work to overcome the challenges of the day, we remain mindful of the next generation as we seek to galvanize their creative energy towards a better future. We lead today with the future we wish to bequeath to our children in focus, recognizing that we cannot design a future that belongs to them without making them its architects… Considering this, I am pleased to announce the gathering of a National Youth Conference….” And that ‘floated idea’ triggered our interest in today’s article.

 In the past 25 years, Nigerian youth have witnessed political leadership that can only be described as a grand experiment in how not to run a country. What started in 1999 with the hopeful promise of democracy has devolved into a spectacle of cronyism, corruption, and mediocrity. It’s like watching a soap opera, except the plot never advances, the characters don’t develop, and the show’s producers (read: politicians) refuse to change the channel.

This generation, which has grown up seeing a country blessed with abundant natural resources and highly intelligent people, continues to ask themselves: “Why are we still poor?” It’s a valid question, considering the fact that Nigeria’s natural wealth is so vast, it’s as if the country hit the jackpot and soon after lost the winning ticket. 

 Their frustration is understandable, given the parade of malfeasance that has played out over the years. The instances of impunity by those in power are so numerous that they could fill an entire season of Game of Thrones – without the dragons, but with plenty of backstabbing.

  Perhaps one of the most notorious scandals was the fuel subsidy fraud during Goodluck Jonathan’s administration. Billions of dollars were allegedly siphoned off by marketers who claimed to have imported fuel that apparently vanished into thin air. One would think Nigeria has an invisible gas station where these imports were parked, because no one saw the fuel, but the funds – well, those disappeared faster than you can say “subsidy.”

And then there was the curious case of Abdulrasheed Maina, the Houdini of the Nigerian civil service. After being accused of embezzling billions meant for pensioners (yes, pensioners – because why stop at robbing the living when you can also take from retirees), Maina did the political equivalent of disappearing for a while, only to reappear, somehow, back in government service. It’s like when a character in a sitcom is written out, but then makes a surprise comeback – only, instead of applause, there was nationwide outrage.

Let’s not forget the Dasuki arms deal scandal, where $2.1 billion meant to buy weapons for soldiers fighting Boko Haram went poof – only this time, the funds didn’t just vanish; they reappeared in the pockets of political campaigners. Apparently, the real war wasn’t against terrorists but against term limits. Soldiers were left fighting Boko Haram with what, sticks and stones? Meanwhile, politicians fought their battles with bags of cash.

 The 2020 EndSARS protests… Well, that was a plot twist no one saw coming. Young Nigerians, fed up with police brutality, took to the streets, demanding systemic change. The government responded in the most predictable way possible: by doubling down on brutality. The Lekki Toll Gate shooting became a tragic turning point, where instead of addressing the valid concerns of the protesters, the powers-that-be chose to act like overzealous bouncers at a nightclub no one wants to be in. 

 At this point, many young Nigerians are left asking, “Why can’t we elect the right leaders? Do we have bad luck? Are we cursed? Did someone spill palm oil in the wrong shrine?” It’s almost comical how consistently elections result in the same set of recycled, out-of-touch politicians. They switch offices like they are playing musical chairs, only the music stopped years ago, and they refuse to get up.

But Nigeria’s problems aren’t due to a supernatural curse. They are rooted in a very human-made system of political and economic mismanagement. Elections have often been hijacked by a wealthy elite who see public office as their birthright. The youths, tired of watching the same old cast of characters, are now trying to break into the game themselves. Unfortunately, the political arena is like a members-only club, and the bouncers (aka the aging politicians) aren’t letting any new face inside without a fight.

 Many of these young Nigerians, especially those behind movements like #NotTooYoungToRun, are trying to bring fresh ideas and perspectives. But they face an uphill battle. The old guard, brusquely referred to as “discredited cretins” (you can almost hear the audience booing), have a vice grip on power. They sit in their offices, sipping champagne while the rest of the country runs on hope and prayers.

At times, it is enough to make you wonder if a coup d’état might be the only way to unseat these folks. But history has shown that coups, much like reality TV show reunions, tend to leave us with more drama and fewer solutions. So, what can be done?

  There’s no magic wand that will fix things overnight, but there are paths Nigeria can take to rise from this endless loop of bad governance. One of the most crucial steps is electoral reform. The introduction of the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System (BVAS) in 2023 was a good start, but the process is still far from perfect. Nigeria needs to ensure that votes actually count, rather than disappear into the abyss alongside all those phantom fuel imports.

  The youth must continue to stay engaged. EndSARS showed the world what happens when young people unite around a common cause. Now, they need to take that energy and channel it into grassroots politics, building from the ground up. Maybe instead of waiting for a messiah to emerge, young Nigerians need to run for office themselves and demand change from within the system.

Civil society also has a role to play. Strengthening anti-corruption agencies and promoting accountability is key to reining in the excesses of the ruling elite. But let us be honest: expecting the current crop of politicians to hold each other accountable is like expecting a cat to guard a bowl of fish. Civil society, independent organizations, and the judiciary must step in as external referees to blow the whistle when the game gets dirty.

Still, amidst all the cynicism, it’s worth remembering that Nigeria wasn’t always this way. At the dawn of independence in 1960, the country had leaders who, despite their flaws, at least appeared to care about nation-building. Chief Obafemi Awolowo, for example, implemented free primary education in the Western Region, laying the foundation for a more enlightened populace. Who knew that years later, education would become something only a select few could afford, thanks to the same leaders who benefited from Awolowo’s policies?

Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, modernized Northern Nigeria, fostering unity and development. Today, he would likely be horrified by the state of governance in the country. Meanwhile, Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, Nigeria’s first President, promoted education and Pan-Africanism. Imagine his surprise if he could see the current state of higher education, where strikes last longer than academic sessions.

Even Nigeria’s only Prime Minister, Alhaji Tafawa Balewa, known for his humility and diplomacy, would likely shake his head at today’s leaders, who seem to think diplomacy means shouting the loudest at international conferences.

  These leaders, though not without their flaws, had one thing in common: they saw public service as exactly that – service. Today’s leaders, on the other hand, seem to view it as a get-rich-quick scheme, with the only service they’re offering being to themselves.

So, can Nigeria rise again? It’s hard to say, but one thing is clear: the youth aren’t giving up. They’ve seen the worst, but they’ve also caught glimpses of what’s possible. And with enough determination, maybe – just maybe – they’ll finally get to change the channel on this long-running, tragicomedy of a political saga.