It's quite difficult to be (consistently) patriotic as a Nigerian. On some days, it's much easier and we're able to celebrate huge wins collectively—often global recognitions such as Grammy wins or Guinness World Record feats. It's not that these are insignificant, but pale in comparison to the ways in which it's difficult to be patriotic. These experiences are bittersweet, but often easier to navigate with a level of dissonance enabled by the privilege to live in a different country thousands of miles away. Sadly, this does not last forever, and returning home means facing the music.
Micah Johnson described "the paradox of black patriotism" as the double consciousness of black American patriotism in the modern era marked by publicised police killings. In a similar way, it's hard to love a country that seemingly doesn't love its people. Or if it does, has a very funny way of showing it.
For those unfamiliar with Nigeria's economic and sociopolitical history, it is awfully complex to say the least, and impossible to fully cover here. It's all very loaded to say the least, but here's some useful context:
- Politically, I could point to how elections are primarily influenced by ethnicity and religion, rather than coherent policies. It's not always been like this though.
- Socially, I could reference the colonial mimicry which can be seen in our obsession with paternalism and 'respect'. This is all-encompassing, and affects everything from workplace culture to domestic dynamics.
- Economically, I could point to our admiration of hedonism and splendour reflects both a collective short-term thinking and desire for escapism. This is especially layered.
This is a redraft of an essay I published 2 years ago which critiqued our political leaders' shortcomings. Although it's valid to demand more from our elected representatives, there's little point in regurgitating a played-out rhetoric – more so without a clear way forward. I'm convinced we can sustainably progress in a way which utilises our unique strengths.
At the time of writing this: our youth unemployment rate is amongst the highest globally at 42.5%, and ~70% of the population is projected to be living in poverty in 2025. Inflation is averaging +25% month-on-month and our external debt growth of +300% should be most concerning of all.
All this is underscored by i) a currency rapidly declining in value and ii) rising petrol costs due to the fuel subsidy removal. Both of these greatly affect trade, cost of living, and quality of life across the board.
All things considered, however, we have somehow found it quite easy to compartmentalise. The 'Detty December' phenomenon in particular embodies our ability to forgo crucial reflection and long-overdue austerity for a period of Shallipopistic crooning. Yet, a progressive decline on multiple fronts over a decade is a cause for concern, especially as neighbouring countries like Kenya, Ethiopia and Rwanda are set to surpass us in many ways. Rather than continuing this cycle of escapism and decline, perhaps it's time to channel our energy into building the future we're capable of creating.
Can a good degree of our socioeconomic and sociopolitical gaps be attributed to colonialism? Certainly. The colonial legacy left deep structural imbalances and extractive institutions that continue to shape our economy. But we're well over a half century since independence, and many of our wounds now appear self-inflicted. The focus should be on forging a path ahead rather than dwelling on what lies behind us, as other former colonies have done over the last two decades.
I believe our significantly young population and growing technology ecosystem presents numerous possibilities for economic growth centred around a tech-driven and tech-enabled economy. However, the investment required first and foremost isn't necessarily simply fiscal, but a collaborative effort at policy- and citizen-levels. Of these, there's a dire need for aggressively ambitious targets beyond the piecemeal challenges being solved. By 'aggressive ambition', I mean goals which let us reimagine what's possible.
We need a more coordinated national strategy that's both state- and market-led but involving citizens towards a shared goal of prosperity. We needn't reinvent the wheel, but we can lean into our strengths in fintech infrastructure while pursuing more ambitious goals that position Nigeria as a global fintech leader. This established sector could then become the foundation for financing long-term investments across other industries, creating a multiplier effect throughout the economy.
The opportunities for fintech in particular should focus more on building 'global-facing solutions by Africa' rather than 'global solutions adapted to Africa'. By this I mean developing innovative financial technologies here that solve global challenges, rather than merely adapting Western solutions to African contexts—positioning Nigeria as an exporter of fintech innovation, not just a market for it. The data suggests we're more than capable, and such goals are not only realistic, but achievable. After all, excellence is already embedded in our genetic makeup; we simply needed to actualise our potential.
For example, Lagos and Accra have become incredibly popular vacation spots for tourists, particularly around the December period. I previously proposed a tourist digital identity initiative that would integrate with our existing fintech infrastructure. This kind of solution could help manage tourism flows while capturing much-needed foreign exchange—demonstrating how our existing strengths in digital identity and payments could be leveraged for broader economic aims.
If you've ever had to make a card payment in Nigeria, it's likely you've been asked "savings or current?" yourself. I've always found the process interesting because while oftentimes you'll know exactly which account you want charged, it requires split-decision answering nonetheless. In the same way, perhaps it's worth assessing our current capacity, if we're similarly relying on our (psychological and economic) reserves, for how much longer, and whether we should be at all. Simply: it appears time is running out.
The dual-account system is a fitting metaphor for Nigeria's economic dilemma. To answer the question "savings or current?", the answer for our nation must increasingly be "current" — and by extension, future! Our savings, both literal and metaphorical, certainly won't last forever.