I’ve been thinking about this question for days: “What Is Wrong With The Nigerian?”

Traveling around Africa and Asia helps me imagine what Nigeria could be like with light and leadership. Western countries are too advanced for me to draw a fair comparison, so I use other regions to project possibilities.

It dawned on me that some of these countries, like Nigeria, contain nations within nations. They are multi-ethnic and multi-religious. They experienced military rule. They endured colonisation, religious conflicts, slave trade, and civil wars. Corruption touched them too. (Some still face it.) They also carry the Dutch curse of natural resources. Yet…they function. Young people succeed there. They don’t carry the international shame we attract. They have electricity and working governments.

I’m beginning to believe Nigeria’s problem lies in the DNA of the Nigerian. It is deeply cultural and ideological. That means if you mix in other variables, as long as the constant remains, the outcome stays inevitable.

Culture here doesn’t mean lifestyle, history, or art. It describes the predictable way we think and reason—the things we accept as normal and true.

I’m not convinced we ever had “good old days.” Our grandparents told us tales of corruption, slave trade, and human sacrifices, alongside stories of traditional norms and values. If the good old days worked, something in our culture made it possible—the superiority of some and the subjugation of others. Nigeria reminds me of the fictitious place in Those Who Walk Away From Omelas. Our society works only when some people accept oppression—women, youth, the poor, and certain ethnic groups. Nigeria operates as a power construct, a nation of comparative achievement. Someone must be poor for our wealth to mean something. Someone must be subservient so we feel important. Someone must fail so we succeed.

Little wonder that when Nigerians work abroad, we suddenly receive sense. Those who fail to make us proud abroad seem to be in the minority. Even when I visit the offices of multinationals in Nigeria, I sometimes wonder if I’m still in Nigeria. I see my fellow Nigerians following due process, and I’m shocked.

I’m starting to accept that Nigeria’s problem lies in its culture, not its circumstances. The one thing that could have rewritten our cultural code—education—has been destroyed. Without it, Nigeria will go nowhere.

Another tool for rewriting our code—media—has been hijacked and corrupted by the basest of elements.

I want to commit some resources to interrogating the question, “What is Wrong With the Nigerian?” I don’t know if I’m asking the right question. I don’t know what kind of research it requires. But I believe if we begin to crack Nigeria’s cultural limitations, we might craft a strategy to free her from them.

May God “safe” us.

For more, read Why I Gave up on Nigeria.