NIGERIANS AND THEIR BELEAGUERED COUNTRY
Sometimes hard to imbibe, citizens must find ways to embrace patriotism and love the nation more, writes Monday Philips Ekpe
Beleaguered. At the moment, I can’t find a better adjective to describe the land of my forefathers. Nigeria has remained resilient and refused to go under in the face of different forms of abuse even from many of its leaders and citizens. We have witnessed the country’s unstable political and economic trajectories in the course of its nearly six and half decades of nationhood. And to add to the pain of those who care, since the fourth republic started more than 25 years ago, it has been a case of steady descent. Bluntly put, no government in the present democratic dispensation can claim to have impacted the lives of the people better than its predecessor.
In what is beginning to look like a curse, optimism about Nigeria’s prospects increasingly appears jaundiced, a situation that keeps churning out more cynics, sceptics, antagonists and even haters of varying ranks. “Nigeria happened to him” is one common expression that sums up the view in many quarters that the country doesn’t have any good to offer; that it is now synonymous with shattered dreams, needless obstacles and ill fortunes. And that its people have no business expecting anything otherwise.
Successive administrations have had to bear the brunt of the people’s anger and frustrations. Comparisons usually go the same way, matching the incumbent government with the previous one, of course with predictable conclusions. The preceding one is given the pass mark while the current is left with bruises. Nostalgia often takes the front seat during such encounters. With all the suffering that characterised a sizable portion of President Muhammadu Buhari’s two terms in office, many people now swear with their lives that they never had it this bad. As some disenchanted individuals argued the other day, nothing in their wildest imagination ever prepared them to buy a single onion at N500.
But shock does happen. And, although things could actually get messier, they’re already choking, enough for people to throw up their hands in despair. Enough to make them quit hoping and trying altogether. Enough to further widen the spiritual and material gap between those in positions of authority and the long-suffering masses. And, more significantly, enough to drain whatever is left of any responsibility for patriotism. This last point directly undermines the basis for collective actions that are critical to corporate rejuvenation and continuity – indispensable attributes for countries hopeful of staying afloat and thriving.
I was pondering over the true conditions of the patriotic credentials of Nigerians in the midst of so many vicissitudes of life when I stumbled on an article published in Dialogue and Discourse in October 2022 by a Lebanese student writer, Ivan I. Khalil. Titled “Patriotism: What Does It Mean to Love Your Country,” he was inspired by interacting with some friends in a local coffee shop.
Khalil’s takeaways from his encounter are truly instructive: “In Lebanese society, patriotism is reliably instilled by schooling institutions, popular culture, and the political establishment. But with the currently unfolding socioeconomic meltdown, much doubt has been cast on the fate of this ironclad sentiment.” Conversely, in Nigeria, if this vital subject is in the curriculum, it’s certainly not active and is, therefore, not a virtue to look out for among young people as a matter of rightful expectation. The relevant lines in the National Anthem and Pledge could well have been lifted from empty odes because of the lack of passion that usually accompanies them. So, when confronted with biting, stark visceral and existential realities, noble qualities like patriotism promptly take the back seat. One can only hope that the National Values Charter designed and driven by the present leadership of the National Orientation Agency (NOA) would succeed where its predecessors failed to make the desired impact.
Khalil: “Patriotism in its earliest forms was an unwavering loyalty to a common cause instead of a fixed national identity. Fascinatingly, this still applies today. The sentiment of patriotism cannot hold in a state where the state stands for nothing. While the cause may shift with time as the nation-state builds its unique identity, the loyalty associated with it does not waver.” Common, unifying cause. On the eve of Nigeria’s 65th anniversary as an independent state, there’re many citizens who still question the things that define its true identity. Such persons are quick to canvass and enforce the legitimacy of the nationalities that fill up the nation’s geographical space but have refused to even acknowledge its legitimacy to exist as a nation. Not to talk of mobilising the citizenry towards achieving national goals. The idea of being patriotic can’t then be a priority to them.
Khalil: “Patriotism, loving the country, is not dying for your country. Patriotism, loving the country, is not throwing away your future to stay entrenched in a land of perpetual suffering. Patriotism, loving the country, is not shaming those who prioritised their lives over an abstract idea of unity. No.” This is some justification for those who have “jumped ship” in search of the good life elsewhere. The caveat here is that some persons left Nigeria and went straight into disillusionment. Even if US or Canadian dollars, pound sterling and euros grow on trees, locating their sources is herculean, more daunting than some of the hurdles back home. Some have been forced to embrace a popular Nigerian social media saying, “problems nor de finish”, as an armour against their acquired fate.
Khalil: “Patriotism is loving the country despite its flaws. Loving the country is to be one with its culture. Loving the country is to keep the faith in a better tomorrow. Loving the country is to leave your anchor in the harbor of diversity, to return whence the pier’s been salvaged from ruins.” Whoever is able to draw a line between Nigeria and its routinely fumbling, largely self-centered leaders would have succeeded in surmounting a major obstacle to loving it.
Khalil: “For me, to love your country is to have the burning ache of dread when thinking of your separation with it. /To love your country is to think about it before soon being so cruelly separated by the dagger of life. /For you, it is sure to be different, but it is a dedication in heart, more than a dedication in actions or words. /Words lie and actions deceive, but your heart is whole and true until it is broken, /and it is broken only when your country tears itself apart. /Even so, your heart heals and loves anew, /a country born again, /until it too, /dies again, /lives again, /and rises so new.” By concluding his remarkable piece on a poetic, emotive note, he revealed one crucial element of patriotism: the personal passion of every true believer for one’s country no matter the shortcomings.
Arguably, Lebanon has incurred more turbulence and tragedies of global dimensions and implications than Nigeria. The article by this perceptive writer on politics, philosophy and economy surely transcends a simple academic look at his own country. The other Lebanese folks and even Khalil probably didn’t know they were engaged in a profound Focus Group Discussion (FGD), an established qualitative research method. But the exchanges have produced valid findings worth digesting.
One last thing, those interactions can easily be replicated on the streets of Nigeria, in Anyigba, Lugbe, Ojodu-Berger, Obolo-Afor, Chibok, Okitipupa, Mbiama and Lapai. For, like Lebanon, my own country is in desperate need of lovers, people who are willing to look beyond its scars and protracted trauma to appreciate its very essence: a land of enduring promise.
Dr Ekpe is a member of THISDAY Editorial Board
