If Nigeria’s post-independence event reveals anything with certainty, it is that the country’s enormous potential has repeatedly been undermined by an enduring fixation on ethnic loyalty and self-enrichment among its political class. These tendencies, far from being mere relics of the past, continue to frame the contours of governance and public decision-making. The result is not only stagnation but the repeated erosion of trust in public institutions.
The problem is not uniquely Nigerian, but the Nigerian example is emblematic of how ethnic mobilisation can derail national development. One telling episode recounted in Power in Politics by the late civil servant August Adebayo offers a sobering glimpse into the entrenched dysfunction. In 1964, a parliamentary debate intended to decide the location of a proposed iron and steel complex quickly devolved into a parochial contest. Representatives championed their regions rather than the economic viability of proposed sites. Ultimately, the bill was withdrawn altogether. That members reportedly responded with self-satisfied smiles speaks volumes. It was a theatre of regional self-interest dressed as governance.
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This historical illustration of the steel complex debate, while illustrative, merely hints at a more profound issue: a prevailing culture where ethnic considerations overshadow national imperatives. Consequently, when political actors prioritise ethnic perspectives in decision-making, reasoned policymaking gives way to a logic of winners and losers. Vital sectors such as infrastructure, education, and industrial investment are then indefinitely relegated to instruments in a contest for regional dominance. This pattern, rather than offering resolution, risks embedding historical divisions more deeply within the fabric of governance.
Nor is the distortion limited to ethnic patronage. Nigeria’s post-colonial political economy has too often conflated public service with personal accumulation. Lee Kuan Yew’s memoirs recount an encounter with a Nigerian finance minister who admitted to introducing tariffs on imported shoes to protect a domestic factory he planned to own after retirement. It was an offhand admission of personal interest driving state policy, remarkable only in its candour. In many African countries, public office has become a private enterprise, with ethnic identity serving as both justification and cover.
“Vital sectors such as infrastructure, education, and industrial investment are then indefinitely relegated to instruments in a contest for regional dominance.”
Yet this is not an inevitable path. Countries with complex ethnic compositions have managed to build inclusive political cultures. Singapore, often cited for its meritocratic system and economic transformation, achieved this by enforcing civic discipline and integrating communities through shared national goals. Post-apartheid South Africa, for all its challenges, pursued national healing through its Truth and Reconciliation Commission and constitutional guarantees of inclusion. Ethiopia’s experiment with ethnic federalism, though fraught, aimed to balance identity with unity.
Nigeria, to its credit, has made attempts to reflect its diversity in governance structures: federalism, state creation, and constitutional protections for minority groups. But these efforts have been repeatedly compromised by political actors who exploit such frameworks for rent-seeking. State proliferation has often increased opportunities for elite capture, not regional equity. Meanwhile, the federal character principle, popularly intended to ensure fair representation, has been undermined by tokenism and lowered standards.
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The way forward lies not in the wholesale rejection of identity but in subordinating it to shared national purpose. A more productive political culture would prioritise competence and vision over kinship or religious affiliation. It would reward accountability and transparency, not familiarity or clientelism.
Civil society, the media, and the electorate have a role to play in demanding this shift. So too do Nigeria’s political parties, which must evolve beyond platforms for ethnic coalition-building into institutions of ideas and governance capacity. The stakes are not just economic but existential: a country divided in purpose cannot marshal the focus required to lift tens of millions out of poverty or to compete in a globalised economy.
Nigeria’s diversity is a strength that, if properly managed, could serve as the engine of innovation, resilience, and national pride. But that promise will remain elusive as long as ethnic calculation remains the currency of political advancement. Reform will be slow, but the direction must be clear: from patronage to performance, from tribe to truth.
