By Chuka Nnabuife
It is Nigeria’s 66th Independence Day anniversary today. Ordinarily, the streets should be agog with celebration — colours, carnivals, buntings, bouquets and frenzied fanfare. But somehow, the drums are silent, or at best, muted. The land seems sombre; even the airwaves are not commemorating the big day with the gusto they once did, including in the immediate aftermath of the bitterly fratricidal Nigerian Civil War of 1967–1970.
Born in the tense 1960s in the former Biafran territory, I still recall, as a child growing up in Enugu — the hilly Coal City, capital of the former Biafra and an epicentre of the bloodletting — even as Biafra lost the war, we celebrated Nigeria’s Independence Day.
Every October 1 was our big-event day. In the Coal City of the 1970s and 1980s, and across Eastern Nigeria, there were masquerades, dances, sports and colourful streets. Those who grew up elsewhere tell similar stories. School march-pasts, parades, prize-awarding outings and Independence Day dances were part of the nostalgic narratives.
The memories are so rich in camaraderie and national identity that one now wonders: Where did all that go? Do today’s Nigerian children still enjoy such fun?
Should one keep pondering why? One is quickly reminded: “Things have changed.”
What changed — the people or the country?
Everything, from the state to the citizens. Even the National Anthem has changed, and changed again. Nigeria’s renowned writer, Chinua Achebe, entitled his last novel 'There Was a Country,' in reference to Nigeria.
How apt that title remains is debatable because the country still exists. Indeed, there is a country.
Distrust, vindictive and avericious political misadventures, tribalism, nepotism, corruption, disregard for productivity and declining commitment to ethical standards have wreaked havoc on Nigeria. But beyond these, one may argue that the sustained erosion of values is the principal factor in the country’s decline. Every day, the land yearns for serious reformation of its warped values.
From Independence on October 1, 1960, Nigeria has travelled a remarkable, though turbulent, political and economic journey. The young federation began with parliamentary democracy and a promising agricultural economy, but political crises, military coups and the Civil War disrupted its early progress.
Then came the discovery and exploitation of crude oil in the late 1960s and the oil boom of the 1970s. Rather than transforming Nigeria sustainably, the sudden wealth, amid weak institutions, fuelled corruption and socio-political excesses. Oil provided enormous revenues but weakened incentives for productivity and deepened dependence on petroleum.
Economic downturns, mounting debt, structural adjustment and weak governance followed. Military rule, marked by coups and counter-coups, political killings and impunity, dominated much of the period from the 1970s to the 1990s. Economic hardship and political uncertainty became defining features, with the Structural Adjustment Programme and austerity measures adding to the burden despite Nigeria’s huge oil earnings.
The political impasse following the annulment of the 1993 presidential election further worsened matters. Nigeria became increasingly isolated internationally, while many citizens became openly disillusioned with their national identity.
Since the return to civilian rule in 1999, Nigeria has enjoyed its longest continuous period of democratic government, alongside economic reforms, telecommunications expansion, private-sector growth and infrastructure development. Yet the country has struggled to rebuild a strong sense of shared national identity and common purpose.
At 66, Nigeria still faces formidable challenges: poverty, inflation, unemployment, insecurity, infrastructure deficits and governance concerns. Recent reforms have sought to improve macroeconomic stability, but living standards remain under pressure.
Citizens continue to bicker along fault lines deeply steeped in ethnic interests, religious persuasion, partisan politics and class. As conditions become harsher, particularly for those at the lower end of the economic ladder, increasing numbers of young Nigerians are leaving the country — a phenomenon popularly known as 'japa' (meaning, escape to never return). This has produced a growing Nigerian presence on major streets around the world, alongside rising youth restiveness and an attraction to shortcuts to prosperity.
Yet Nigeria’s story remains that of a resilient people with a remarkable history of overcoming setbacks. The nation remains an unfinished promise, largely because of the absence of a vital binder.
That urgently needed binder is a deliberate and intentional system for promoting national values, correcting distorted perceptions of Nigeria reflected in the conduct of its citizens at home and abroad. It is non-existing organ or office of government that is set up to creatively revive the events, practices and traditions that once made Nigerians love and celebrate their country — as recently as three decades ago.
Hardship notwithstanding, Nigerians are a unique people who love themselves, and one another. They overtly love their homeland.
Ordinarily, they do not want anything to dent their globally recognised “Naija” reputation. But, like humans and other creatures that instinctively respond negatively to unsavoury conditions, the people’s changing value system— even when odious — appear to be an adaptive response to a deteriorating social environment. Charles Darwin described such developments as a people's natural response to change. From a psychological viewpoint, Sigmund Freud has a similar reasoning.
The waning interest in celebrating a National Day may, therefore, be a symptom of this development.
A well-articulated and thoroughly implemented national-values reformation programme, domesticated at states and local-governments levels, not just the National Orientation Agency (NOA) could help arrest the drift. Programmes such as the War Against Indiscipline (WAI) and MAMSER of the late 1970s and 1980s offer historical examples, though any contemporary adaptation must be democratic, civic-minded and free of military bravado.
Nigeria needs to rediscover not merely how to celebrate October 1, but why October 1 and all that it represents should still matter to every Nigerian.
...Chuka Nnabuife, FNGE, FSNA, author, journalist and founding Managing Director of Anambra State Civic and Social Reformation Office, writes via
