A Response to Why Ideas Don’t Work in Nigeria

By John Oguntiloye

Every time I write about Nigeria, there is a constant urge to begin with how Nigeria has no data, no significant record from which objective inferences could be drawn. The implication of this is that to attempt to understand issues affecting Nigerians, you have to narrowly rely on personal experience, inference, and sometimes a limited conception of reality. Lack of data definitely affects the quality of public opinion and, even more so, the validity of arguments. But to be a commentator or to write in Nigeria, one has to utilise the alternatives, ineffective as they may be. The alternative I will utilise in this essay is a personal story.

Just last week, I joined a friend to collect a package he had ordered from Lagos. He was to collect the package at Ojoo Bus Terminal in Ibadan. In the peculiar way commercial bus drivers lie to hasten those they are to deliver packages to, the driver lied. When my friend called the driver, he told him he was already in Ibadan—it was a lie; he was probably still in Mowe at this time. But we left for Ojoo Bus Terminal. When we got to the terminal, he called again. This time, the driver said he was at Iwo Road—another lie. We had to wait for him and so, we looked around for a place to sit. The most viable option was the terminal lounge. I had used the terminal a few times, but I had never entered the building where the lounge was situated. From the outside, the building had the elegance of a decent structure. The paint, although odd in my opinion, had not faded years after the terminal was commissioned.

My opinion, however, would change upon walking in. Unlike the outside, the inside was disorganized. Most of the stalls at the lounge were empty which suggests no serious business activity. I should add that everything from the seats to the floor looked characteristically unkempt.  A signage was supposed to read Welcome to Ojoo Bus Terminal, but what it read was Ojoo Bus Terminal. It still made sense, only that Welcome had fallen on one side and was stretching over Ojoo Bus Terminal. I cannot remember what had become of to—I must have missed it. Most of the chairs were in disrepair. They were bent, broken, or both. Walking in, neither I nor my friend noticed the elevator in the terminal, but when the driver arrived and we left, we saw it. We speculated that it was likely not working.

Before the driver arrived, my friend and I could not help but have a quick conversation about the terminal. Our conclusion was that the idea of adding the lounge to the terminal was Western. It was one of those things those in power saw in Western countries and assumed would pass as a measure of development. And maybe this thought process has some merit because when you pass through Ojoo and see the terminal from outside, you would be tempted to attach a developmental label to it. It is true that the building is somewhat sophisticated, but it is also unmindful to the taste, needs, and interests of the people for whom it was built. Hence, the terminal has been grossly underutilised since its commissioning.

I have told this long story to establish a paradox: the things we see as growth and development are not necessarily so.  It might be a good idea to build a world-class bus terminal with a nice structure in Ojoo, but it would have been better if the idea was compatible with the reality of the environment in which it was built. Maybe the building in the terminal would have served a better purpose if the interaction with modern facilities and the psychological dispositions of the people within that area had been considered. I like to maintain that it was a good idea that the government was interested in elevating and upgrading the taste and public infrastructure of its citizens, but it was not well thought out. It is like serving Chinese salad to those accustomed to the spicy taste of gbegiri and ewedu with fluffy black amala.

This story leads me to why ideas don’t work in Nigeria. The answer simply is the lack of compatibility. Like the bus terminal, many proposed ideas in Nigeria today are incompatible with the reality of the country. These ideas may be good. They may have worked elsewhere. They may, in fact, be the foundation of development in other nations, but they are not necessarily applicable in the Nigerian context. Just like the terminal, many of these ideas look good on the outside and may have even added to the attractiveness of the country, but they are simply not having a positive impact on individual lives because they are not compatible.

I will restrict this discussion to economic and political ideas. Here, capitalism with its free-market principles and socialism with its heavy government regulations come to mind. Without a doubt, most of the world’s superpowers have benefited immensely from capitalism and its tenets. Many books have been written, and numerous economic experts have argued that the way to grow an economy in modern times is to adopt capitalist doctrines. Sometimes, superpowers even diplomatically nudge developing nations towards capitalism because of their trust in it. A few African countries today are either partially or fully governed by this doctrine, and Nigeria is one of them. But what we find is that capitalism appears to be yielding little good in Nigeria—at least, at the moment. There are certainly a few benefits of capitalism, and no one can deny that. However, on a broader scale, the economic life of the average Nigerian has not improved significantly since we began tilting towards capitalism. One could begin with the adoption of the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP) to countless other economic policies that have been implemented by successive administrations.

Similarly, before our economy took a capitalist direction, most Nigerian leaders operated in the spirit of socialism, even if they did not openly declare it. In Nigeria’s early years, the government controlled almost everything, including the prices of goods and services. One might ask whether this heavy government control—essentially socialism—brought prosperity to Nigeria. The answer to this question may be controversial, and rightly so, because the periods when Nigerians experienced the most economic relief were likely during this era of quasi-socialism. This was the time when the government had a lot of money, subsidised everything, and even boasted about not knowing what to do with its wealth. However, the argument suggesting that socialism worked better for Nigeria can easily be countered. The key question would be: why didn’t this success last? What led to the economic hardship that followed? Corruption and waste come to mind as likely answers. But whether under socialism or capitalism, waste and corruption have always been part of Nigeria’s governance, which weakens the argument for the system.

This brings me back to the issue of compatibility. To effectively implement an economic or political system, a society must have certain philosophical and cultural elements that align with the system being proposed. If an economic system is introduced in a society where the necessary cultural and psychological conditions do not exist, the system will not function properly. It is like soil: some types of soil nourish certain crops better than others. If you plant a viable seed in a soil that lacks the requisite nutrients, the crop will either not grow at all or will not thrive. In our technologically advanced world though, any soil can be modified to support crops that would not naturally grow in it, or the crop itself can be genetically altered to survive in an otherwise unsuitable environment. However, I do not think we can easily modify people’s philosophy or psychology to accommodate what is unnatural to them and this is not to say that people do not change.

In my opinion, Nigeria lacks the philosophical, cultural, and psychological foundations necessary for capitalism to thrive. Joseph Henrich’s The Weirdest People in the World explains this better. According to the book, before the Industrial Revolution, there was a significant rise in individualism, largely influenced by Martin Luther’s famous theses. This emphasis on individualism contributed to the success of industrialisation. This makes sense because capitalism thrives in societies with strong individualism. Henrich also distinguishes between cultures of shame and cultures of guilt. In collectivist societies, shame is the primary regulating force, whereas, in individualistic societies, people are self-regulated by an internal sense of guilt. In individualistic societies, capitalism can thrive because individuals can function independently and make economic decisions without relying on communal validation.

This analysis explains Nigeria’s situation. Ours is a collectivist society. Based on Henrich’s findings and my earlier argument, we lack the individualistic and guilt-driven traits that support capitalism. We prefer communal success and go as far as shaming people who dare venture into areas where we have not recorded success. One person’s achievement is seen as a victory for the entire group. When Burna Boy wins a Grammy, Nigeria as a whole claims the achievement. If a Yoruba person wins an election, the entire Yoruba community celebrates it as their collective success. We derive immense satisfaction from collectivism to the point that anyone who publicly disagrees with popular opinions can be ostracised or even “cancelled,” regardless of how rational their argument may be. This is our philosophy, our culture, and our way of thinking. Perhaps our philosophical and cultural psychology can be adjusted, but as things stand, our cultural elements are not yet compatible with capitalism.

On the incompatibility of socialism, too, some may argue that socialism does not lead to economic progress, but I will not make that the focus of this article. My view is that the version of socialism adopted by early Nigerian leaders was more sensitive to ethnic alliances than to national interests. In my opinion, it was not entirely compatible with the country, as it deepened ethnic divisions at a time when national unity was needed.

Thus, ideas often fail in Nigeria because they are not compatible with the country’s realities. We need ideas that align with the realities of Nigeria and Nigerians. Another alternative is to re-engineer Nigerians, both philosophically and psychologically, to fit into existing ideas that have proven effective elsewhere. I know the obvious questions will be: where will these new ideas come from? How will they be developed? How will Nigerians be re-engineered? The answer lies in intellectualism, in the work of thinkers, revolutionaries, and reformers but that is a conversation for another day.

John is a biographer and content creator.