Nigeria’s two-legs-in-two-boats voyage

As someone with some familiarity with maritime life, I can say that one of three things would almost certainly happen in such a situation. The person would either fall into the water before the boats had moved any meaningful distance; the boat operators would refuse to permit such recklessness; or, if the journey somehow began, the strain and danger would become unbearable within moments. In short, no voyage can succeed when it is founded on contradiction.

Sadly, Nigeria sometimes appears to be attempting precisely this kind of impossible journey. Ours is a richly endowed country, blessed with human and natural resources, but no nation can thrive for long where the foundations of public life are weakened by injustice, unequal treatment, disregard for the rule of law, and the persistent application of double standards. These dangers become even more serious when they are tolerated, excused, or perpetuated by those entrusted with authority.

At independence, Britain left behind not a fully integrated national, legal, and political order, but a structure marked by significant asymmetries. The coexistence of different legal traditions in different parts of the country reflected the uneven colonial foundations upon which Nigeria was built. That unresolved inheritance has continued to shape our national life in ways that still deserve serious reflection. It is fair to say that the political class that inherited the postcolonial state did not sufficiently address some of these structural imbalances at the outset.

Colonial governance also created patterns of advantage and exclusion that outlived the empire itself. In Northern Nigeria, the British system of Indirect Rule strengthened already existing hierarchies and concentrated authority in the hands of selected traditional institutions. Over time, these arrangements contributed to a political culture in which access to power and resources became unevenly distributed, while the language of unity often masked deep inequalities beneath the surface.

This contradiction remains with us. Nigeria speaks often and rightly of unity, common destiny, and indivisibility. Yet many citizens continue to ask whether the burdens and benefits of the federation are truly shared in an equitable manner. The people of the Niger Delta, for example, have long raised legitimate questions about justice, environmental cost, and ownership in relation to the oil wealth extracted from their land and waters. Likewise, questions are often asked about transparency and accountability in the management of solid minerals from other parts of the country. These are not trivial concerns; they go to the heart of what it means to build a fair federation.

It is also difficult to ignore the extent to which religion has sometimes been weaponised in parts of our national life. In the hands of cynical political actors, faith—which ought to be a moral force for compassion, discipline, and peace—can be turned into an instrument of control, division, and intimidation. Too often, ordinary people are mobilised in defence of agendas that do little to improve their welfare, while the privileged classes who benefit from the system secure the best education, opportunities, and protection for their own children.

One of the gravest consequences of this failure of leadership is the persistence of violent extremism and insecurity. Terrorism, sectarian violence, and ideologically motivated intimidation have exacted a painful toll on the country, particularly in the North but by no means there alone. Whatever their immediate causes, such developments flourish where governance is weak, justice is selective, and impunity is allowed to grow.

This is why the issue of blasphemy allegations, mob violence, and religiously charged incitement must be approached with the utmost seriousness. No civilised democracy can permit a situation in which mere accusation becomes a licence for intimidation, violence, or murder. No individual or group has the right to assume the roles of accuser, prosecutor, judge, and executioner. Where such tendencies are tolerated, the state begins to abdicate its most basic duty: the protection of life under law.

Nigeria must be clear on this point. However deeply religious its people may be, the country is governed by a Constitution. That Constitution—not clerical outrage, mob passion, or sectarian pressure—must remain the final authority in public affairs. If citizens can be threatened, attacked, or even killed on the basis of allegations that are not adjudicated through lawful and constitutional means, then the very idea of equal citizenship is placed in jeopardy.

This is not an argument against religion. Far from it. It is an argument against the abuse of religion, against selective justice, and against the dangerous silence that too often greets acts of fanaticism. Religious leaders—Muslim and Christian alike—owe the nation a moral duty to condemn incitement and violence wherever they arise. Silence in the face of extremism is not neutrality; it can easily become complicity.

The broader lesson here is well captured by Daron Acemoglu and James A. Robinson in Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty. Their central argument is that nations prosper when they build inclusive political and economic institutions, and fail when institutions are captured by narrow interests for the benefit of a few. Secure rights, impartial justice, accountable governance, and broad participation in public life are not abstract ideals; they are the practical foundations of national progress. On this point, their insight bears directly on the Nigerian condition.

No nation can move forward sustainably if some citizens believe the law protects them while others believe it is used only against them. No federation can endure if justice is seen to depend on region, religion, influence, or political usefulness. And no democracy can mature where violence is tolerated as a substitute for lawful process.

Nigeria must therefore choose. It cannot continue indefinitely with one foot in constitutional democracy and the other in sectarian exceptionalism. It cannot claim commitment to the rule of law while permitting parallel cultures of impunity. It cannot speak the language of national unity while allowing deep inequities and selective enforcement to erode trust among its peoples.

A stable and honourable future requires moral courage from leadership and civic seriousness from the citizenry. It requires that the state defend every Nigerian equally, without fear or favour. It requires that justice be neither regional nor religious, but national and constitutional. Above all, it requires that our shared humanity prevail over every temptation toward fanaticism, domination, and exclusion.

A country that permits the unlawful taking of life outside due process places itself on a dangerous path. Nigeria must not travel that road. Our Constitution must remain the supreme arbiter of our common life, and the rule of law must be the boat in which all Nigerians travel together.

●Congratulations,  WatchmanPost is 4!
●Correction
In our last edition (29.04.2016), this column carried the title 2007: Of Endorsements and Inducements. The correct year should have been 2027. The error is regretted.