Nigeria’s Real Problem: Not Leadership, But Identity and Mindset By Femi Obembe
Nigeria does not suffer from a shortage of leaders; it suffers from a misunderstanding of its own reality. Until we confront the deeper forces shaping leadership itself, we will keep blaming individuals for problems rooted in structure.
For many years, a dominant narrative has shaped public opinion in Nigeria: that our country is underdeveloped because we lack good leaders or because our leaders are corrupt. I held this view for a long time. It is simple, convenient, and emotionally satisfying. But upon deeper reflection, I have come to a different conclusion—one that may be uncomfortable, but necessary.
Nigeria’s development challenge is not just about leadership. It is rooted in two deeper issues: the question of nationhood and the mindset that drives leadership decisions. A nation, in its truest sense, is a people united by shared identity—common culture, language, and collective purpose. By this definition, Nigeria is still a work in progress. What we have is a collection of strong ethnic identities coexisting within a single political structure, and this has consequences. When a country is not fully unified in identity, leadership naturally reflects divided loyalties.
A true leader is one who feels deeply connected to his people—someone willing to sacrifice personal comfort for their progress. The story of Moses illustrates this clearly. Though raised in Pharaoh’s palace, he could not ignore the suffering of his own people. His identity ultimately defined his actions. This same pattern is evident in Nigeria’s history. Chief Obafemi Awolowo deliberately invested in education and social development in the Western Region, driven by a vision of uplifting his people. That investment has produced lasting results. Today, the global competitiveness of the Yoruba people is no accident. From the trajectory of that early investment, it is not far-fetched to imagine a person of Yoruba descent rising to the highest political office—even in countries like the United Kingdom that once colonised Nigeria. That is the power of intentional, identity-driven development.
Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe, despite often projecting a nationalist posture, also pursued political ambitions that aligned strongly with Igbo interests. While criticising other regional leaders for “tribalism,” he sought political influence beyond the Eastern Region in ways that were difficult to interpret as purely nationalistic. Such ambitions reflected a desire to expand the political influence of his own people. Sir Ahmadu Bello openly prioritised Northern interests, even expressing a preference for expatriates over certain Nigerian groups in administrative roles. These were not isolated decisions. They were reflections of a deeper reality: leaders are first products of identity before they become agents of the state.
This pattern has not disappeared in modern Nigeria. From Chief Obasanjo, Goodluck Jonathan to Muhammadu Buhari and now President Bola Tinubu, leadership has often been interpreted through the lens of regional and ethnic alignment. This is not necessarily about intentions—it is about structure. In a society where identity is fragmented, leadership cannot be entirely neutral.
Sometimes, a leader who is widely perceived to belong entirely to one group comes into power and begins to consistently surround himself with individuals from another specific ethnic or religious community. When such patterns persist, it becomes difficult to dismiss them as a coincidence. It raises a deeper possibility—that identity is not always as visible as we assume, and that leadership decisions can reveal affinities that were previously hidden or unspoken. In that sense, leadership does not just exercise power—it exposes identity.
Beyond identity lies the question of mindset. Using a Marxist lens, society can be broadly divided between those who control resources and those who depend on them. The critical question is whether leadership is oriented toward elite comfort or toward broad-based development.
From an economic standpoint, recent policy directions under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu suggest an attempt—though still debated—to move governance toward people-oriented development. There was a time in Nigeria when a leader reportedly measured the success of his administration by the number of private jets acquired during his tenure—a metric that reflected elite accumulation rather than societal progress. Now compare that with a different approach: structured mass transit systems replacing chaotic transport models, expansion of rail infrastructure, and ambitious road networks such as the Lagos-Calabar and Sokoto-Badagry corridors.
These are not just infrastructure projects—they are economic enablers. Manufacturing remains the engine of growth in any serious economy. Yet manufacturing cannot thrive in an environment plagued by poor roads, weak logistics, and high transaction costs. Infrastructure, therefore, is not about prestige—it is about productivity. It is about creating the conditions where ordinary Nigerians can produce, trade, and prosper. This is what people-oriented development looks like.
There is also another dimension of leadership that deserves attention: the ability to build people. During his time as governor of Lagos State, Bola Ahmed Tinubu nurtured individuals who later rose to become Vice President, ministers, and key national figures. This raises an important question: when we examine other individuals currently aspiring to national leadership—many of whom also served as governors—where are the leaders they produced? Leadership is not just about occupying office. It is about building institutions and raising successors.
While it is true that Nigerians are experiencing real hardship—rising prices, high fuel costs, and currency pressures, this is not inconsistent with economic principles. No nation develops without making difficult trade-offs. Every economy must decide whether to prioritise immediate consumption or long-term investment.
Nigeria’s challenge, therefore, is not simply a leadership problem. It is a combination of weak national cohesion, identity-driven decision-making, and the mindset guiding economic priorities. Until we acknowledge this, we will continue to treat symptoms rather than the root cause.
Much has been said about the need to build a stronger sense of national unity—and rightly so. However, we must also confront a difficult question: what if national cohesion, in the short to medium term, remains limited? Which obviously is the case in Nigeria. It may be necessary to rethink the structure of governance itself.
Rather than forcing a uniform national identity, Nigeria should consider a system that expressly recognises its diversity more explicitly. One possible approach is to align governance with the country’s six geopolitical zones, treating them as distinct identity blocs with stronger executive authority at that level. Under such a framework, each zone could be led by an Executive Vice President with substantial decision-making power, responsible for driving development within their region, while a central, largely ceremonial president provides overall coordination and symbolic unity.
This model—an identity-aligned federal structure—would allow leadership to operate where identity is strongest, thereby aligning governance with the natural loyalties that already shape political behaviour. In such a system, leaders would be directly accountable to the people whose identity they share, making it more likely that policies reflect real needs rather than distant political calculations.
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