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By embracing dialogue, community engagement, and targeted interventions, we can tackle the root causes of insecurity and other societal issues before they spiral out of control. There’s no need for violence or political instability when we can engage in thoughtful, inclusive discussions to identify and implement practical solutions
A FEW weeks ago, I published an article in this column titled “Operation Know Your Neighbour.” The opening paragraph of that piece reads as follows: “Nigeria, a country that once boasted thriving communities, diverse cultures, and strong family ties, now faces a security crisis of monumental proportions. However, the country has seen an alarming rise in insecurity. What began as isolated incidents of violence has blown up into a nationwide crisis. From banditry to terrorism, kidnapping to armed robbery, no region seems immune from the threat of insecurity. Even the rural areas, once considered safe havens, are now under siege by criminal elements, with villages and towns overrun by bandits, cult groups, unregulated vigilantes, and political agents. Nigeria is Africa’s most densely populated country affected by persistent inner turmoil based on overlapping ethnic, religious, political, and regional divisions.
This approach emphasizes community involvement in safeguarding lives and property. It is a system built on mutual trust, accountability, and vigilance, where residents take an active role in monitoring their surroundings. It is based on the understanding that no criminal operates in isolation-every bandit, kidnapper, and armed robber is somebody’s neighbor, relative, or acquaintance. By strengthening community vigilance, we can create an environment where crime becomes more difficult to sustain.
Nigeria, often called the Giant of Africa, is more than just its size and population; it’s a cultural mosaic, a land of diverse peoples, languages, and traditions. Yet, many Nigerians especially the youth are unfamiliar with the true depth of the country’s heritage. “Operation Know Your Country” is a national initiative aimed at changing that, by encouraging citizens to explore, understand, and appreciate the richness of Nigeria. As originally expressed by Chinua Achebe, Nigerian author and cultural icon and Marcus Garvey respectively; “If you don’t know where you’re coming from, you won’t know where you’re going.” “A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots.”
Unfortunately, many of those in positions of leadership today seem to ignore the weekly columns I have been publishing for over seven years. These articles are the product of more than 75 years of personal experience, traveling and living in almost every part of Nigeria. During this time, I have built friendships, shared in the joys and struggles of various communities, and contributed to the growth and development of our nation. I have worked not only to promote sustainable environmental practices but also to offer advice on how we can address some of the most pressing issues facing our country today. It’s frustrating to see that, despite all these efforts, the voices of people like me are often overlooked. Our leaders, who hold the power to make a real difference, seem detached from the realities of the lives of ordinary Nigerians and the solutions that could help move the country forward. This lack of engagement with meaningful input from those who know the country inside and out is a missed opportunity for real progress.
If only our leaders would take the time to read and understand the perspectives I have been sharing, many of the crises we face today, particularly the growing insecurity, could be addressed without escalating into larger conflicts, wars, or political chaos. With my deep knowledge of Nigeria, gained over decades of living and working across the country, I was part of the project team that worked on the Bakalori Dam in Talata Mafara, Sokoto State; a name that, by itself, added a touch of beauty to Nigeria. I believe that the solutions to these challenges are within reach. By embracing dialogue, community engagement, and targeted interventions, we can tackle the root causes of insecurity and other societal issues before they spiral out of control. There’s no need for violence or political instability when we can engage in thoughtful, inclusive discussions to identify and implement practical solutions. It’s about taking proactive steps to bridge divides, foster unity, and build a more secure and prosperous Nigeria. Unfortunately, this approach is often ignored, leaving us to face more instability and unrest than necessary.
My writings and early warning whistle-blowing have been shaped not only by my age, now in my late eighties, but also by the deep relationships I have built with people across Nigeria. I hold a genuine love and respect for the diverse communities I have encountered throughout my life, regardless of their tribe or background. These connections have provided me with invaluable insights into the struggles and aspirations of ordinary Nigerians. It is from this place of deep affection and understanding that I raise concerns, offering advice and warnings about the challenges facing our nation. Having lived and engaged with people from all walks of life, I feel a profound sense of responsibility to speak out, hoping to guide our leaders and citizens toward solutions that are rooted in unity, mutual respect, and a commitment to the collective well-being of all Nigerians. My commitment to Nigeria’s progress is grounded in my love for its people, and it is this bond that drives my desire to see a safer, more prosperous country for future generations.
Over four decades ago, when I became the Chairman, CEO of Costain West Africa PLC, the company had a significant presence across the country, with infrastructure projects spanning Nigeria and parts of West Africa. At that time, Costain made history as the first multinational company to be listed on the Nigerian Stock Exchange. As CEO, I made it a personal commitment to visit every single project, regardless of its location, ensuring that I stayed connected to the work we were doing and the communities we were impacting.
This hands-on approach extended beyond the professional sphere into my personal life. Over twenty years ago, when my daughter got married, I had friends and colleagues travelling from all over to attend the traditional ceremony at my hometown, Akwukwu-Igbo in Delta State. Despite the long distances many of them travelled, they were eager to come and celebrate with us. However, the journey to my town at the time was far from easy. The road from the main highway to Akwukwu-Igbo, a mere 9 kilometres, took over an hour or more to navigate, especially during the rainy season when conditions worsened.
Given my position at the time, surrounded by Captains of Industry, Emirs, Obas, Obis, and Military Generals, I felt it was important to inform the Governor of Delta State, His Excellency James Onanefe Ibori, about the upcoming traditional ceremony. To my surprise, he honoured my invitation and attended the event. During his speech, he shared how he had initially been advised not to attend because of the poor condition of the road leading to my town. He went on to express his disbelief, stating, “How can I, as Governor, not be able to visit a town in my own state because of bad roads?”
His statement was not just a remark but a commitment to action. He continued, saying, “I am glad to have come and I have seen the state of the road, and I will ensure that it is attended to promptly.” True to his word, just a few months later, the contract for the construction of the road was awarded, and within a year, the project was completed.
This experience highlighted the power of leadership when it is responsive and connected to the people. It also underscored the importance of addressing basic infrastructure needs, as they are key to the development of any community. The road, once a major challenge, was transformed into a symbol of progress and the Governor’s commitment to improving the lives of the people in Delta State. This initiative paved the way for better accessibility and a stronger connection between Akwukwu-Igbo and the rest of the state. Because of the Governor’s swift response and commitment to improving the road, I was treated like royalty when I returned to my town almost like a prince coming home. The newly constructed roads remained in good condition for nearly 20 years, providing much-needed access to my community. However, in recent years, these roads began to deteriorate due to a lack of proper maintenance. The absence of ongoing care and investment in infrastructure has taken a toll, with the roads once again becoming a challenge for travel. This situation underscores a critical issue facing many parts of Nigeria: while infrastructure may be built, its long-term sustainability often falters without consistent upkeep.
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The country, still grappling with its challenges, remains in search of the ‘messiah’ that General Olusegun Obasanjo once referred to – a leader who could guide Nigeria toward true progress, a vision that was shattered following the annulment of the 1993 election that would have seen MKO Abiola assume the presidency
THIS brings to mind a similar story from the period leading up to the 1979 general election. Chief Obafemi Awolowo, the leader of the then Action Group (AG), was widely admired in my community, particularly for his groundbreaking free education policy, which had a profound impact on many families. His reputation as a champion for the people’s welfare was well-established, and he was seen as a visionary leader.
However, despite his popularity and the positive changes he had brought, Chief Awolowo’s approach to campaigning had unintended consequences. He often toured various regions, including my community, in a helicopter, which, at the time, was seen as a symbol of wealth and elitism. While he may have intended to demonstrate his commitment and reach, this method of travel created a disconnect between him and the very people he sought to serve. Many in my community felt that his use of a helicopter was out of touch with their reality and concerns, as they were struggling with basic infrastructure issues, such as poor roads and lack of access to essential services. As a result, despite his strong policies and popularity, the people refused to vote for him.
This experience highlighted how, even with the best intentions, political strategies can sometimes backfire. It also illustrated the importance of staying grounded and connected to the people you aim to serve. While Awolowo’s policies were transformative, his method of campaigning inadvertently alienated the very communities he sought to uplift, teaching us a valuable lesson about the need for empathy, accessibility, and understanding the local context when engaging with the electorate.
In today’s political landscape, it seems that knowledge of one’s own community, state, or even country is no longer a prerequisite for success, as I pointed out in my previous article, Election or Selection; those were times when decisions were made by the elders of the communities for the good of all. Representative leaders were chosen through an open, unanimous process of nomination and voice votes. The process was devoid of politicking and lobbying. The criteria for an individual to merit consideration include: character, good standing in the community, selfless service, and loyalty to the people’s cause. The latter is actually a measure of one’s obedience to the authority of the elders, how well you can execute your orders, and the people’s agenda.
In reflecting on our journey into nationhood, it is abundantly clear that democracy, as it is currently practised in Nigeria, is not the best system for us. There is so much discontent in our land. This is because the political class and the bureaucrats have failed to provide us with visionary leadership. Our country is currently on the fast lane to anarchy. There are countries around the world where governance by selection, rather than election, has produced stable and prosperous societies. In these countries, the selection process is not a free-for-all contest, but a careful and deliberate process designed to choose leaders who are best suited to govern. The emphasis is on merit, experience, and the ability to lead, rather than on who can steal the most votes. Increasingly, politicians are winning elections or securing positions of power without a deep understanding of the issues that matter most to the people they are meant to serve. Campaigns often focus more on personal branding, media presence, and party affiliations rather than genuine engagement with the challenges facing local communities.
This shift has led to a disconnect between elected officials and the everyday realities of the people. Politicians may rise to power through strategic alliances, financial backing, or promises that sound appealing in theory but fail to address the true needs of the population. In many cases, they may have little knowledge of the specific struggles faced by the citizens they represent, whether it’s the lack of infrastructure, inadequate healthcare, or widespread insecurity.
The result is a political environment where leadership is more about image and less about substance, with leaders often failing to deliver meaningful change because they don’t understand the real issues on the ground. This trend raises an important question: how can we expect leaders to solve the pressing problems facing our country if they are disconnected from the very people they are supposed to represent? As I have emphasised before, it is crucial for those in power to genuinely understand and connect with their communities, states, and country in order to make informed, effective decisions that benefit everyone.
The situation unfolding today in Rivers State bears a striking resemblance to events in the 1960s, specifically the turmoil within the Western House of Assembly. This crisis led to what was known as the “Wẹ́ti ẹ̀” controversy, which played a significant role in triggering Nigeria’s first military intervention. The military’s takeover resulted in the suspension of the constitution and the disbandment of all political parties, marking the beginning of several decades of military rule. At the initial stage of the military rule, the politicians found themselves completely unemployed for a long time, so they started to plot against the military by making a good part of the nation ungovernable. Over time, as the military government grew increasingly unpopular, the voice of the people began to rise. Eventually, the military regime sought to collaborate with politicians, with power often shifting between military factions in a series of takeovers. This period of instability marked a turbulent chapter in Nigeria’s political history.
Review the article I wrote a year ago, titled ‘Nigeria, My Country: So Divided,’ and ‘Parliamentary System of Government: Government of the People, for the People, by the People’ respectively, which remains relevant to the current situation in Nigeria and reads as follows:
The first military junta began following the 1966 Nigerian coup d’état, which overthrew Prime Minister Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, and made Major General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi the head of the Federal Military Government of Nigeria. He, too, was soon overthrown and murdered in a coup in July of the same year. This followed a long list of more military coups, then a civil war that lasted three years. During that time, we went from four regions, namely, the Northern, Western, Midwest, and Eastern regions, to 12 states and now 36. The military coup, the civil war, the killings, the divisions and the bitterness that followed divided our country to a point of no return, causing the nation to degenerate into one huge ball of fractured pieces that may never fit quite well together again.
Government of the people, for the people, by the people was the system our founding fathers inherited from the British. It is a system that has been in place for hundreds of years in Britain and some Commonwealth nations. But the system was booted out less than six years into our independence by the military, and some of our founding fathers were killed during the takeover. Young students of politics and today’s politicians may have forgotten the reasons for the killings, the reason for the change that gave us military for another 40 years and more or forever.
When you consider all these factors, it becomes clear why Nigeria transitioned from a developing nation in the 1970s to an underdeveloped country in the 2020s. This decline can largely be attributed to the partnership between the military and political elites, which gave rise to a series of military administrations that, over time, became more focused on managing crises than addressing the country’s fundamental issues. The latest manifestation of this is seen in the military-appointed leadership overseeing the ongoing crises in Rivers State. The country, still grappling with its challenges, remains in search of the ‘messiah’ that General Olusegun Obasanjo once referred to – a leader who could guide Nigeria toward true progress, a vision that was shattered following the annulment of the 1993 election that would have seen MKO Abiola assume the presidency.
