The conversation about Nigeria's challenges tends to assume that leaders are responsible for all the problems facing the country, while the citizenry remains innocent. Viewing our problems from this angle overlooks a basic fact: leaders are drawn from the general population. They are a reflection of society, not angels or prophets. This reality becomes even more glaring under democracy, where the leadership selection process is open and liberalised. Nigerians have, for instance, at one time voted for a president who claimed to have trekked to school barefoot, an ordinary man with no royal connection or wealth. Yet his leadership was underwhelming.
This is not an isolated case. Today, a significant proportion of Nigerian political leaders are drawn from the masses. In the 2023 general elections, a commercial motorcycle operator won a parliamentary seat on the Labour Party (LP) platform. In Zamfara State, a popular local musician contested and won. Nigeria's National Assembly is full of former activists, academics, veteran journalists, farmers and student leaders, among others, yet their impact falls far short of expectations.
The point I am making is that leaders and followers are cut from the same cloth. This means our problem runs deeper than leadership. Nigeria's crisis is a collective failure by both leaders and the led to do the needful.
If a leader is guilty, the follower is often an accomplice. This is why an average citizen sells their vote on election day for peanuts. It is why citizens organise dinners, parties and receptions to congratulate people who have secured political appointments, appointments that are rarely, if ever, questioned. Traditional rulers confer chieftaincy titles on public officials facing corruption charges in court. Clerics bless corrupt, wealthy patrons. Sometimes, we invoke religion and ethnicity to shield our own corrupt brothers and sisters. This is precisely why Nigeria continues to drag its feet.
The complicity does not end there. We take all manner of personal requests to elected and appointed leaders, fully aware that the only way they can meet these demands is by stealing from public funds. In doing so, the ordinary citizen becomes complicit in corruption. When we refuse to register as voters or to participate in the electoral process, we clear the path for incompetent leaders to emerge. And when "good people" avoid the "dirty water" of politics on one excuse or another, they leave the field open for unscrupulous characters to dominate the political landscape.
This same disregard for civic duty shows up well beyond politics. The phrase "civic duty" is largely absent from the vocabulary of many Nigerian citizens. People flout traffic rules without a second thought. Waste is dumped indiscriminately. Scavengers vandalise public facilities, including rail tracks, transformers, electric cables and streetlights, and we treat these infractions as unremarkable. When a schoolteacher absconds from duty for days on end, a medical doctor diverts medicine from public hospitals, a storekeeper connives to divert public goods, and a commercial bus driver overloads passengers, how can Nigeria possibly work for everybody? When everybody refuses to do the right thing, it becomes very difficult for the country to function.
In conclusion, building a strong democracy that works for every Nigerian requires all hands on deck, both individual and collective action. Everyone has a role to play. When each of us practically rejects vote-buying, shortcuts to success, favouritism, tribalism, religious bigotry, violence and a host of other infractions, Nigeria will become a great nation. Leaders alone cannot address our challenges.