Sixty-five years after the Union Jack was lowered and the Green-White-Green proudly hoisted on October 1, 1960, Nigeria stands a...
Sixty-five years after the Union Jack was lowered and the Green-White-Green proudly hoisted on October 1, 1960, Nigeria stands at a historical crossroads, a land of immense promise, yet shackled by the weight of missed opportunities, betrayal of ideals, and persistent struggles. The question is not whether Nigeria has potential; it is whether at 65, the so-called "Giant of Africa" has lived up to its name or whether it is simply a giant in chains.
On one hand, the successes are undeniable. Nigeria remains Africa’s most populous nation, a reservoir of human capital that has produced world-class achievers: Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, literary icons Chinua Achebe and Chimamanda Adichie, global sports stars like Jay-Jay Okocha and Kanu Nwankwo, tech innovators like Jelani Aliyu , Iyinoluwa Aboyeji, and Afrobeats megastars like Burna Boy and Wizkid. Our universities and laboratories, despite neglect, continue to produce brilliant minds scattered across the globe, powering economies far more stable than our own. In natural wealth, Nigeria is unparalleled, blessed with oil, gas, fertile land, and minerals that, if properly harnessed, could rival the wealth of nations like Saudi Arabia or Malaysia.
Yet, these bright spots are often the flowers blooming on a cracked and arid ground. At 65, Nigeria’s failures threaten to overshadow its triumphs. The country that once held such hope has become a paradox: the sixth-largest oil producer in the world, yet unable to refine its own petrol; a nation of abundant farmlands, yet plagued by poverty, hunger and food insecurity; a democracy on paper, yet riddled with corruption, electoral manipulation, and governance that often serves the few at the expense of the many.
Consider education: In 1960, Nigeria’s literacy rate was under 20%. By 2025, it has risen significantly, but what is the quality of education? Our universities are frequently paralyzed by strikes (with another looming in two weeks time), our classrooms overcrowded, and our brightest students forced to seek opportunities abroad. In contrast, South Korea, which was at the same developmental level as Nigeria in the 1960s, is now an industrial and technological powerhouse. This painful comparison highlights the squandered decades.
Consider infrastructure: Nigeria’s roads remain death traps, power supply is epileptic, hazardous, and despite billions of dollars sunk into the power sector, darkness is still a permanent companion and family member in homes and industries. Contrast this with Dubai, which in 1960 was a desert village with no oil wealth comparable to Nigeria’s, yet today is a global hub of innovation, tourism, and luxury.
Corruption remains the Achilles’ heel of Nigeria. Transparency International consistently ranks the country among the most corrupt in the world. The oil boom that should have built a modern Nigeria instead lined the pockets of military dictators and political elites. Looted funds are scattered in foreign banks while ordinary Nigerians queue for hours to buy petrol or food staples. The failure of leadership, from the First Republic to the present Fourth, has left a trail of broken promises.
Yet, Nigeria’s biggest failure lies not only in governance but in unity. The dream of “One Nigeria” is still fragile. Ethnic mistrust, religious bigotry, and secessionist agitations remain unresolved. From the Biafran war to Boko Haram insurgency, from banditry in the North-West to militancy in the Niger Delta, Nigeria at 65 is still grappling with existential questions: Who are we? What binds us? Can this artificial colonial creation truly become a nation?
Still, all hope is not lost. Nigeria’s greatest asset remains its people, the resilience of its market women, the innovation of its youths, the determination of its entrepreneurs, the determination of their teachers, and the unbreakable spirit of its masses who continue to hope against hope. The #EndSARS protests of 2020 raised the windows blind to the common man and showed the power of young Nigerians to demand accountability. The rise of homegrown tech companies like Flutterwave and Paystack shows the possibilities of innovation even in chaos.
So, is Nigeria at 65 a success or a failure? The answer is both. It is a success in spirit but a failure in structure; a giant with a mighty roar but shackled feet. Nigeria has survived civil war, military dictatorship, and economic collapse. Survival itself is a form of success. But survival without transformation is not enough. At 65, Nigeria must decide whether it will continue to stumble in darkness or rise into the light of its destiny.
At this turning point, Nigeria must choose whether to continue in cycles of corruption, injustice, and disunity, or to embrace a system that guarantees accountability, fairness, and moral governance. The Islamic way of life offers such a system, not merely as a religion, but as a complete code of conduct covering politics, economics, social relations, and justice. The Qur’an reminds us:
“Indeed, Allah commands you to render trusts to whom they are due and when you judge between people to judge with justice…” (Qur’an 4:58).
This principle of amanah (trust) and ‘adl (justice) is the cornerstone of good governance. If Nigerian leaders, irrespective of their faith, adopted these values sincerely, corruption would crumble, tribalism would weaken, and accountability would flourish. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said: “Each of you is a shepherd, and each of you is responsible for his flock” (Bukhari and Muslim). Leadership, in Islam, is therefore a trust, not an opportunity for theft or oppression.
History has shown that when justice was so firmly established even the poor could challenge the ruler and be heard. Policies of equity, accountability, and welfare ensured no one went hungry. When zakat distribution became so effective, poverty was virtually eliminated, and no one could be found to accept charity. These are not utopian tales, but real governance principles rooted in Islam, showing that justice, accountability, and compassion can transform nations.
Islam provides solutions to poverty through zakat and equitable distribution of wealth; it provides solutions to injustice through the rule of law that spares no one whether rich or poor; it provides solutions to division through the principle of ummah, and brotherhood that transcends tribe and tongue. If these principles were applied, Nigeria’s immense resources would serve all and not the greedy few.
Yes, Nigeria is multi-religious, yet it respects that diversity. But the ethical system embedded in Islam of honesty, fairness, compassion, accountability is universal. A Nigeria where leaders internalize these values and where citizens demand them is a Nigeria that can finally rise to its destiny.
In truth, the crisis of Nigeria is not a crisis of resources or intelligence, but a crisis of morality. The Islamic way of life, if adhered to with sincerity, shall offer a divine compass out of the quagmire. As Allah says:
“And whoever follows My guidance will never go astray nor fall into misery.” (Qur’an 20:123).
Nigeria at 65 still has hope, but only if guided by justice, truth, and God-conscious leadership. If this path is chosen, then truly, the “Giant of Africa” will not only rise but lead humanity by example.
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