
Everywhere I look, it feels like a national emergency. The widespread despondency is matched only by a profound sense of helplessness. Driven by curiosity about this pervasive disquiet, I have been quietly observing conversations in various WhatsApp groups. Despair seems to reign; many believe the economy is in a nosedive. Opinions range from believing we’re applying Band-Aids to fatal wounds, to declaring Nigeria a lost cause. Yet, some still hold faith that, like the biblical dry bones, revival is possible.
The plight of the poor, rendered voiceless and almost emasculated, is heartbreaking. They resort to desperate text messages, begging for help. But it’s the middle-class professionals and intelligentsia that worry me the most. They decry the Buhari era as a time of rampant looting and borrowing, often overlooking the deep scars the previous regime left on our economy’s lifeblood.
I’m astonished at how many are surprised by the scale of the damage. I thought it had been obvious for years. Some suggest extreme measures, like the Saudi Crown Prince’s method of locking up the elite until they return their loot. Others advise immediate emigration to avoid sinking with the ship. The issues of fuel subsidy fraud and crude oil theft make people wonder about the moral compass of those who’ve led Nigeria.
Despite the complete mess, the cycle continues: money is still borrowed for legislators’ leisure, and the supposedly outraged remain silent. The narrative that Buhari invented misgovernance is misleading. He may have excelled in it, but he’s not the sole culprit. We were promised continuity by the APC, and perhaps that’s precisely what we’re seeing.
Age and the nature of these times have made me more cynical, but the depth of hypocrisy among the business elite and pseudo-intellectuals is staggering. They transform social media into a platform for empty lamentation and self-gratification. The deplorable state of roads, unemployment, power shortages, insecurity driving farmers to displacement camps, the judiciary signaling an absence of justice – all contribute to our economic woes, the plummeting Naira, and soaring fuel prices. We’re perilously close to a Zimbabwe under Mugabe scenario.
Where are the patriots? Were they used for target practice? An undeclared state of emergency prevails as business operations become miraculous and manufacturing suffers. Yet, in a culture devoid of shame, who cares but the poor, vulnerable, and weak?
In most countries, such circumstances would spark mass protests. But this is Nigeria, where repetition and complacency in addressing national issues are common. The prospect of a Nigerian revolution isn’t far-fetched – it’s practically at our doorstep. My concern is that this could usher in a chaos akin to Robert Kaplan’s “The Coming Anarchy,” a descent into lawlessness reminiscent of Somalia.
The need is urgent for a coalition of patriots to salvage our economy and political system. Our new constitution must recognize the people as sovereign, allowing for secession to ensure politicians serve the populace, not their greed. As I contemplate the urgency of this foundational document, I recall Niall Ferguson’s admiration for the institution-building exercise that was the drafting of the US constitution.
Recovery is possible, as evidenced by India in 1991 under Narasimha Rao and Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s first term in Brazil. The Nigerian diaspora, familiar with more effective systems abroad, has a crucial role to play in this revival. Our patriots must include the judges, soldiers, and businessmen who now realize the extent of political corruption.
To save Nigeria, we must recognize that we’re cycling back to the post-colonial state reevaluation of the 1960s. The international political economy theories of the 1970s, once criticized, now provide insight into our drift. We must shift the focus from the elite to the people.
The duty of our patriots is to empower the voiceless, as Stephen R. Covey emphasized. Nigeria’s salvation lies not in the hands of a few, but in the collective voice and action of its people.
By Pat Utomi
Patrick Okedinachi Utomi is a political economist.

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