Every country has its problems but Nigeria’s problems are undeniably untreatable. The Nigeria we know today is a caricature of its former image in the global community. There are problems everywhere. The economy is in a bad condition. Our healthcare system is a disaster. That explains why politicians and members of the privileged class rush to overseas medical facilities for their yearly medical check-up. The universities are no better. They are underfunded. Their research outputs are poor.
They lack innovative teaching practices, probably because they also lack science and technology equipment. Academic staff of our universities are widely regarded as active industrial relations militants, who have learnt to adopt radical tactics to draw public and Federal Government’s attention to the crumbling facilities that are used – shamefully – to support teaching and learning and research.
These conditions offer no encouragement to students and their parents. It is this depressing academic environment that has compelled wealthy parents to send their children to foreign universities because ours are ill-equipped and badly managed.
If you ask anyone how best to restore Nigeria to its previous status as a country that offers quality university education, as a continental leader, a unifying force in Africa, and a peace broker in the continent, chances are you will receive countless suggestions. When it comes to how to reform the nation, everyone has ready-made opinions. However, most people believe Nigeria is no longer admired or respected in various spheres in the international community.
Many countries would rather avoid Nigeria than openly engage with us as a partner in economic development. This is what happens when a nation is perceived and treated as a Pariah in the world. Why should Nigeria be dreaded rather than be seen as a highly regarded country in Africa and beyond? Despite the long history of Nigeria’s contribution to economic and human resource development of African countries, despite the noble role Nigeria played in international inter-governmental organisations such as the United Nations (UN), the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO), the World Health Organisation (WHO), the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), and other international organisations, it is rare to find positive references to Nigeria in public discourse at regional, continental or global level, even by African countries that have benefited from our benevolence in various ways. What happened?
How did a nation that used to serve as a reference point in the world suddenly lose its appeal? How did we plunge so rapidly into the bottom of the ravine so much so that even small and impoverished countries that used to rely on our financial assistance now take pride in poking their fingers into our eyes? We can only reminisce about our glorious past because our present image is tattered. Talk about our marvellous achievements in sports and you feel like replacing today with yesterday. At the 2012 London Olympic Games, our sports men and women returned with no medals of any colour.
The agricultural sector is as good as dead. The symbols of the successes we recorded in agriculture have disintegrated. The renowned groundnut pyramids of Kano have fallen apart. The cocoa farms in the southwest are no longer what they used to be. The oil palm industry in the southeast operates only at local community level. Southeast Asian countries such as Malaysia that once visited Nigeria to understudy the success of our oil palm business are now exporting oil palm produce to Nigeria. What a paradox! Where we should be teaching other countries how to engage in various forms of agricultural production, we are now being taught by other countries. We can no longer feed our population. Every year, our food import bill soars and, despite pledges by senior government officials and ministers to slash our food import expenditure, we continue to spend more money on food importation.
A country that cannot feed its population lives at the mercy of other countries. In 2010, Nigeria spent over N991 billion on importation of rice and wheat. In the same year, according to Minister of Agriculture Akinwunmi Adesina, “Nigeria spent N635 billion on import of wheat, N356 billion on import of rice, N217 billion on sugar importation and despite the huge marine resources spent N97 billion importing fish.” These problems and many others, including leadership challenges, have overwhelmed us. It is not that we do not know that the country is descending into a deep hole.
The trouble is we don’t know how to stop the rapid disintegration. It is perhaps for this reason, the lack of effective leadership, the widespread corruption, the looting of federal treasury, growing insecurity and the ongoing slide toward anarchy that the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Aminu Tambuwal, suggested on Tuesday, 2 July 2013 that Nigeria was due for a revolution. Nearly four weeks after his call, Nigeria’s former representative at the United Nations (UN), Yusuf Maitama Sule, also called for a revolution free of bloodshed.
At a lecture he delivered as a guest of the Nigerian Institute of Management, Tambuwal said: “The most compelling reasons for revolution throughout the ages were injustice, crushing poverty, marginalisation, rampant corruption, lawlessness, joblessness, and general disaffection with the ruling elite.”
Tambuwal was absolutely correct in his analysis of the existing climate of discontent in Nigeria. He may have spoken to the applause of the audience but did he realise that in his capacity as a member of the ruling class, he could become one of the casualties of a revolution, if we were to have one? His call was altruistic but frightening, coming from a man who is also a member of the aristocracy.
When a revolution starts in Nigeria, Tambuwal and his parliamentary peers will find no hiding place to escape the anger of the poor and the homeless. Maitama Sule said he was calling for a Mahatma Gandhi-style revolution. He said: “When Murtala Muhammed came into power, within six months, he started giving this country a sense of direction. Did he kill anybody?” Calls for a revolution suggest to me we have reached a blind alley through which we can make no further progress. The only way out of our current pain, it seems, is for everyone to undertake an upheaval that will radically transform the nation. However, there is something murky, dangerous, and uncertain about a revolution. All revolutions do not always end the way the organisers intended. Things can get out of hand. A revolution that goes off course can lead to political and social instability. It can produce more anarchy than social order. It can destabilise rather than yield the stability we need to advance our economy.
If you are in doubt, ask the people in Egypt. When the “Arab spring” swept across North Africa and the Middle East in 2011 — from Tunisia to Libya to Egypt and to Yemen – everyone celebrated the rise of popular democracy and the downfall of dictatorship. But look at what is happening in Egypt. Long after the situation in Libya and Tunisia has arguably stabilised in a relative sense, Egypt is still restless. In just one day last week, more lives were lost than during the uprising that occurred in 2011. In Syria, the opposition and government forces are engaged in sporadic bombing runs that have not resulted in either the overthrow of the government or the crushing of the insurgents. A revolution might start off as a non-violent uprising but it can quickly degenerate into lawlessness that could be difficult to guide in a particular way. This is why anyone advocating a revolution in Nigeria should be cautious so we do not fall into the same chaos that has gripped Egypt and Syria. If you believe that things have to get worse in Nigeria before they get better, perhaps a revolution might serve us best. Hopefully, when the fire from the revolution’s frontline has cooled off, a new Nigeria will emerge triumphant. It will be a Nigeria in which the leaders will be accountable to the people. It will be a new Nigeria in which the people will be free to scrutinise their leaders. It will be a new Nigeria in which the institutions of society operate effectively and productively. I have heard people argue passionately that, for things to work in Nigeria, we need to get rid of many people who have served in government directly or indirectly. I am not persuaded by that argument. Nigeria did not get to its current predicament through the stupid actions or activities of presidents and military dictators only. We must include in the list of those who underdeveloped Nigeria people like state governors, National Assembly members, state legislators, federal ministers, special advisers and special assistants, state commissioners, members of government departments and agencies, and ordinary people who engage in criminal activities that have contributed to Nigeria’s ghastly profile in the world.
When you add all these, you will find that only a few people will be spared. So, who wants to start a revolution that could end up wiping off our entire population? I do not share in the call for a revolution for two key reasons. There is hardly a bloodless revolution. The sheer number of people who have served in one way or another in government or government departments and agencies, including ordinary citizens with criminal record implies there will be far too many people who will be incinerated in a revolution. Who will be spared in a revolution and who will be assassinated?
