The Clamor for a Split—and the Bigger Fight for Our Collective Survival.The lamentaions and hopes of
Dr Nelson Aluya .
Nigeria is hurting so are its people. We are a nation increasingly divided by ethnicity, religion, region, politics, economic inequality, historical grievances, and competing interpretations of who has suffered most and who is responsible.
For some Nigerians, the answer appears simple: Nigeria must break apart.
I understand that frustration.
I understand the anger of those who believe separation may finally provide an escape from corruption, nepotism, insecurity, injustice, and the persistent disregard for ordinary human dignity that has eaten deeply into our national fabric.
But I ask a more difficult question:
If Nigeria breaks apart tomorrow, will the problems that destroyed our trust disappear with the borders we redraw?
I am not convinced they will.
THE DANGERS OF A SINGLE STORY
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie famously warned about the danger of the “single story”—the tendency to understand a people or situation through one dominant narrative.
Nigeria today suffers from many competing single stories.
Every region has its grievances. Every ethnic group remembers its wounds. Every generation carries its disappointments.Some of those grievances are unquestionably legitimate and must never be dismissed.
But Nigeria’s decline cannot honestly be attributed to one tribe, one religion, one region, or one political class alone.
Like many Nigerians of my generation, I had the privilege of experiencing Nigeria beyond the boundaries of my ethnicity.
I lived among Nigerians from different parts of the country. I knew their homes, ate their food, learned from their cultures, laughed with their children, and experienced their kindness.
That Nigeria was imperfect.
But Nigeria has not always been like this.
What we see today is not merely the triumph of one ethnic group over another. It is, in many ways, the democratization of greed among our elites.
North, South, East and West have all produced leaders who served courageously.
And every region has also produced elites who enriched themselves while impoverishing the people whose ethnic identities they claimed to defend.
Corruption learned our languages.
Greed adopted our religions.
Nepotism wore our traditional clothes.
And incompetence became remarkably federal in character.
Until we confront that uncomfortable truth, merely changing our borders may change the geography of our problems without changing their character.
IF WE DIVIDE , WHERE DO WE DRAW THE LINES ?
For those who sincerely believe partition is the answer, I respectfully ask:
Along what lines shall Nigeria be divided today?
Ethnic lines?
Religious lines?
The boundaries of the old regions?
The boundaries that existed before the Civil War?
Present-day states?
Natural-resource boundaries?
And what happens to millions of Nigerians who have lived for generations outside their ancestral regions?
What happens to minorities living inside whatever new nations emerge?
Who owns the rivers that cross those borders?
Who controls ports, oil fields, gas pipelines, electricity grids, highways and other shared infrastructure?
Who assumes Nigeria’s debts and obligations?
And when disagreements eventually arise within the newly created countries—as they inevitably will—do we divide again?
These are not arguments against legitimate conversations about restructuring, federalism, self-determination or justice.
They are arguments for thinking beyond the emotional satisfaction of separation toward the practical consequences of what comes afterward.
A new flag cannot automatically produce a new political culture.
The people who constitute Nigeria today will carry with them both the greatness and the scars of Nigeria wherever they eventually belong. If corruption, tribalism, intolerance, injustice and greed remain within us, they will simply cross the new borders with us.
PERHAPS I AM STILL DREAMING
I confess that perhaps I see Nigeria differently. Perhaps I am respectfully naive in my belief that something called Nigeria is still worth saving.
Perhaps it is because Nigeria is the only homeland I have ever truly known.Or perhaps I am simply afraid of losing the nostalgic memories of the people who created a Nigerian utopia in my childhood imagination.
The Umunnas of the East.
The Seguns of Lagos and the West.
The Ibrahims and Yakubus of Kano and Zaria.
People who welcomed me, fed me, protected me and called me brother without first asking about my tribe or religion.
Those memories matter.
They remind me that underneath the political architecture called Nigeria are human beings who once found ways to live together.
Today I live in a foreign land. I am grateful for its opportunities and the life it has allowed me to build.
Yet there remains something profound about hearing another Nigerian—thousands of miles from home—say:
“My brother.” ” My Sister. “
In that moment, sometimes tribe disappears.
Religion disappears.
Region disappears.
And Nigeria suddenly reappears.
Maybe that is sentimental.
But nations themselves are partly constructed from shared memories, shared sacrifices and the belief that despite our differences, there remains something worth preserving together.
OUR ANCIENT KINGDOMS ARE GONE
We must also confront another reality.Our ancient kingdoms and empires, magnificent as many of them were, they belong to history now. We must however preserve their heritage, languages, institutions and wisdom.But we cannot rebuild the future simply by attempting to recreate the political geography of the past.
Whatever nation—or nations—we eventually choose to inhabit must be capable of functioning in the world that is coming.
That future must begin with reducing hatred and strife.Not by forgetting historical injustices.Not by pretending the Civil War never happened.Not by denying pogroms, discrimination, marginalization, political violence or economic exploitation.
And certainly not by asking victims to erase their memories.Rather, we must learn to remember without becoming prisoners of remembrance.We must acknowledge the pain inflicted upon us while also finding the courage to acknowledge pain inflicted by us.
We must reconcile our wounds.
We must tender our scars rather than continually reopen them until another generation begins to bleed.
Forgiveness does not erase history. It prevents history from endlessly reproducing itself.
THERE IS A BIGGER STORM COMING
Nigeria’s internal disagreements are serious.But something larger is happening around us.The architecture of global power is changing.
Economic blocs are being reorganized. Technology is transforming warfare, finance, intelligence, manufacturing and communication. Artificial intelligence is changing the value of knowledge itself. Critical minerals are becoming strategic assets. Nations are competing for supply chains, markets, energy, data, influence and technological dominance. A new global order is being negotiated before our eyes. Africa missed the negotiating table before.
At the Berlin Conference of 1884–1885, European powers negotiated rules for their imperial expansion in Africa without Africans meaningfully determining the outcome. We cannot afford another historical absence. This time, Africa may not necessarily be divided with rulers and pencils across maps. The divisions of tomorrow may be economic, technological, ideological, financial and informational.
While Nigerians fight over ethnicity, sophisticated powers are fighting over artificial intelligence, rare minerals, energy, biotechnology, data, currencies, trade routes and the industries that will determine the next century.
That is the bigger fight.
And if we exhaust ourselves fighting one another, someone else will determine the value of the land beneath our feet, the information inside our phones, the minerals beneath our soil and perhaps even the opportunities available to our children.
I have said before:
“Nations that endure do so not by the display of power, but by the strategies that control power and economics.”
Nigeria—and Africa—must understand this urgently.
CONCENTRATE OUR THREE GREATEST RESOURCES
We must begin concentrating three extraordinary resources:
Time. Money. Intellect.
Our time must no longer be consumed entirely by arguments that produce no measurable progress.
Our money must increasingly build institutions, businesses, industries, research centers, universities, hospitals, infrastructure and technologies that strengthen our collective bargaining power.
And our intellect—perhaps the most underutilized resource of the Nigerian people—must become an instrument of development.
Nigeria has brilliant minds at home and across the diaspora.
Doctors.
Engineers.
Scientists.
Entrepreneurs.
Teachers.
Farmers.
Artists.
Technologists.
Economists.
Tradespeople.
Professionals.
Young innovators.
We must create systems through which their knowledge becomes national productive capacity.
This is why I continue to believe:
“Make Brains Pay.”
A society that rewards intellect, innovation, productivity and integrity will eventually produce more of them. A society that rewards corruption, political thuggery and ethnic manipulation will inevitably produce more of those instead.
POWER MUST BE ORGANIZED
Power scattered is frustration. Power organized becomes influence. Power concentrated around a legitimate purpose becomes transformation.
This is why Nigerians must stop surrendering political power exclusively to those who have mastered the manipulation of our divisions.
We must identify and support leaders who understand the larger picture—men and women capable of looking beyond the next election, the next appointment, the next contract or the next ethnic grievance. Leadership must become stewardship of generations.
As I have often reflected:
“The secret to a great and powerful leader is not to control everything around you, but the power to control yourself.”
Nigeria desperately needs leaders capable of controlling their greed, prejudices, egos and appetite for power.
Because no constitution can completely protect a nation whose leaders have lost the capacity for restraint.
*THE QUESTION IS BIGGER THAN ONE NIGERIA.*
Ultimately, this conversation should not simply be reduced to whether Nigeria remains one country or becomes several. That may be the political question.
But the greater question is:
Can the people inhabiting this land build societies capable of surviving and competing in the world that is emerging?
Whether we eventually live under one flag or several flags, geography alone will not rescue us.
Character matters.
Institutions matter.
Education matters.
Technology matters.
Economic power matters.
Justice matters.
Trust matters.
Leadership matters.
And above everything else, our ability to see beyond ourselves matters.
I have written before:
“If we do not prepare the future for the young ones coming, they will plan for it with no consideration of us in it.”
That warning applies profoundly to Nigeria today.
The future will not wait for us to finish arguing.
Our children are coming.
Technology is coming.
Economic competition is coming.
Climate pressures are coming.
Population growth is coming.
A changing global order is already here.
We can continue debating who owns yesterday while other nations organize themselves to own tomorrow. Or we can begin the difficult work of rebuilding trust, demanding justice, reforming our institutions and concentrating our collective resources toward survival and prosperity.
THE GREATER NIGERIAN QUESTION
Perhaps Nigeria will remain one.
Perhaps it will restructure profoundly.
Perhaps history will eventually create something different.
None of us can predict that future with certainty.
But whatever happens, we must not allow hatred to become our inheritance. We cannot hand our children beautifully drawn borders surrounding broken institutions. We cannot give them new national anthems while leaving them the same corruption. We cannot give them different passports while leaving them the same poverty. And we cannot claim liberation if all we have accomplished is transferring oppression from a distant elite to one who speaks our language.
True freedom must be greater than geography.
It must mean dignity.
Justice.
Opportunity.
Security.
Economic independence.
And the freedom of every child to dream beyond tribe, religion and circumstance.
I still believe change is possible.
As I have said:
“Change often comes by the will and actions of a dedicated selected few.”
Perhaps Nigeria is waiting for those few.
Perhaps they are already among us.
Perhaps they are young Nigerians at home and abroad who are tired of inheriting old battles and are ready to build something better.
Whatever Nigeria eventually becomes, we must recognize that there are challenges ahead greater than the differences among us.
Power is most effective when concentrated.
It is therefore time to concentrate our time, our money, our intellect, our influence and our courage—and deploy them toward our collective survival. This is not merely a dream. It is the reality we must confront today if our children and grandchildren are to inherit something better tomorrow.
Because:
“The tree you plant today will be your shade for tomorrow.”
The question before us is no longer simply whether Nigeria should remain one nation.
The greater question is:
What kind of future are we planting—and will our children find shade beneath it?
Amen.
— Dr. Nelson Aluya
