On October 1, 1960, Nigeria emerged from British colonial rule with great hope. The territory had been created in 1914 by the amalgamation of the Northern and Southern Protectorates, a union designed for colonial administrative and economic convenience rather than the aspirations of its peoples. Independence gave Nigerians political freedom, but the structure of an economy built to export raw materials remained.
The first years brought real progress. Regional governments built schools, roads, and agricultural schemes. Groundnut pyramids, cocoa, palm oil, and cotton earned the country foreign exchange. Universities such as Ibadan, Nsukka, Zaria, and Ife became centers of scholarship. Free primary education in the West, scholarships, and public sector jobs opened the way for ordinary children to rise.
When oil wealth arrived in the 1970s, Nigeria seemed destined for greatness.
That promise gave way to military coups, a civil war, and decades of mismanagement. Oil revenue displaced agriculture and industry, and the ruling class learned that power was the fastest route to wealth. Public institutions were hollowed out, and the gap between rulers and the ruled widened. Today the results are plain: abject poverty, hunger, and in many homes, starvation.
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The removal of the fuel subsidy in 2023, together with the floating of the naira, hit working people hardest. Petrol prices multiplied, transport costs rose, and the price of food, rent, medicine, and school fees followed. The naira lost much of its value, inflation eroded wages and savings, and millions fell deeper into poverty. Those who defend the reforms speak of long-term gains, but the pain came immediately, while adequate protection for the poor came slowly, if at all. A worker whose income has not changed now cannot afford what it bought two years ago.
Nigerians are also living in fear. In the Northwest, armed bandits kill, kidnap for ransom, burn villages, and force farmers off their land. Rural dwellers bear the brunt: they cannot afford private guards or relocation, and help often arrives too late or never. Other regions have their own crises. The Northeast still lives with the Boko Haram and ISWAP insurgency, the North Central faces deadly farmer-herder clashes and attacks on communities, the Southeast struggles with violence and unrest, and the South-South and Southwest contend with kidnapping, oil theft, and pipeline vandalism. The most basic duty of a state, protecting the lives and property of its citizens, is being neglected.
Corruption sits at the root of these failures. Public funds are embezzled, contracts are inflated, and projects are abandoned halfway or built so poorly that they collapse or crumble within a few years. Roads remain death traps, hospitals lack equipment, and power supply remains unreliable. Few of the powerful are punished, and the ordinary citizen is left to provide their own water, electricity, and security.
Education has suffered at every level. Primary schools lack teachers and classrooms, secondary schools lack laboratories and libraries, and universities are repeatedly shut down by strikes over unpaid entitlements and broken agreements. Millions of children are out of school, and many graduates leave without the skills to compete. Meanwhile the children of the elite study abroad, which shows how little they invest in the system the rest of the country depends on.
Nigeria is rich in critical minerals such as lithium, gold, and tin, yet the sector has been badly managed. Illegal mining has fuelled conflicts and funded armed groups. The response has often been force rather than reform, with reports of security forces killing illegal miners in places like Niger State. Poor miners are treated as criminals while the powerful players and sponsors behind the trade go untouched. Legal, regulated, community-benefiting mining is what the country needs.
The recent partnership with the United States on critical minerals should also be viewed with caution. One reading is that it serves the comfort of the ruling class: it secures their standing in Washington, protects the wealth they keep abroad, and eases the threat of American intervention, while ordinary Nigerians are asked to trust that the benefits will reach them. Without transparency, public oversight, and local processing that creates jobs, Nigeria risks repeating the oil story, in which resources are extracted and citizens remain poor.
None of this will change by itself. The political elite rotate power among themselves, switching parties and alliances while the looting continues. The change must come from the working people: workers, farmers, traders, artisans, teachers, students, and the unemployed. Their hardships share the same source, and it is a mistake to let religion, ethnicity, or region divide them. They must organize through unions, associations, and community groups, understand their common interests, and demand accountability, security, quality education, and a decent standard of living. A government that fears its people will serve them.
Nigeria at 66 is old enough to have learned its lessons. The question is whether its citizens will unite to build the country that independence promised.
Sani khamees is the Senior Programme Officer ( Research, ICT and Climate Change) at CITAD.
