Though I seldom focus on Nigeria in my writings, I find myself compelled once more to address a familiar and deep-seated frustration. Every interaction with the nation, whether close or distant, stirs a profound sense of disillusionment that goes beyond mere political grievances.
Contrary to widespread assumptions, Nigeria’s core challenge is not solely rooted in its leadership. Rather, it lies within the populace-the sycophants, gatekeepers, compliant followers, and self-appointed courtiers who have mistaken servitude for citizenship and blind obedience for patriotism.
Recently, I returned from Bangkok, Thailand, where I chaired a United Nations High-Level Expert Panel during the UN Responsible Business and Human Rights Forum for the Asia-Pacific region. The organization I lead, the Global Human Rights Centre, proudly serves as a UN collaborating partner. Moments like these are rare and deeply significant, especially for a young Black woman, as such achievements are earned through perseverance rather than handed out.
From Bangkok, my journey took me to Geneva for another UN roundtable, followed by participation in the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organisation’s World Food Forum. There, I represented the Centre for Sustainable Development, Energy Transitions, and Climate Change alongside the Global Human Rights Centre, a UK-based entity dedicated to human rights due diligence within agrifood systems.
Our mission is straightforward yet crucial: assisting governments, investors, and corporations in evaluating and mitigating the human consequences of climate vulnerabilities. Within the first two days, I encountered more ministers and CEOs than I could keep track of, accumulating a stack of business cards reminiscent of a seasoned casino dealer’s deck.
Yet, as is often the case, Nigeria disrupted my focus.
On the second day of the FAO World Food Forum, a well-intentioned Nigerian gentleman approached me, clearly proud of my accomplishments. He encouraged me to meet Nigeria’s Minister of Agriculture, who was also attending, describing him as a visionary who would value my expertise. Though hesitant-having long learned that engaging Nigerian officials often leads to little progress-I agreed out of politeness.
While awaiting the minister, a Nigerian FAO Emergency Operations Specialist approached me unprompted and remarked, “It’s remarkable that young people like you attend this forum instead of spending money on partying or travel,” before offering a high five. I stood still, not shocked but weary. Such patronizing attitudes have become all too familiar and draining.
Why do some Nigerian professionals assume that young Nigerians, especially women, participate in global forums for leisure? Why does intellectual rigor from youth or women remain so alien to our national mindset?
Suddenly, commotion erupted: “The Minister will see you now!” People scrambled as if heralding a momentous event.
There it was-the quintessential Nigerian spectacle of sycophancy: the rehearsed frenzy, the exaggerated reverence for authority, the insecure choreography that precedes every “Excellency.”
Having lived abroad for over sixteen years, I had almost forgotten this troubling dynamic-the gatekeeping, the disguised low self-worth masquerading as loyalty, the self-subjugation cloaked in protocol. I have met governors, ministers, and dignitaries across Asia and Europe, including royalty and influential leaders, without witnessing such theatrical displays or the stifling aura of contrived importance. Yet in Nigeria, even a brief meeting with a public official becomes a pilgrimage.
When I finally met the Minister, he was impressive-eloquent, intelligent, and visionary. He grasped the significance of my work and the importance of human rights due diligence in supporting rural communities vulnerable to climate change within Nigeria’s agrifood sector.
However, the vultures circled. The same FAO emergency operations specialist who had earlier belittled me now glared with palpable hostility. As we left, an aide smugly reminded me, “Make sure you thank the person who introduced you to the Minister-without him, you wouldn’t have had this opportunity. That’s protocol!”
“Protocol” in Nigeria is a double-edged sword-both a shield for mediocrity and a weapon against merit. In that moment, I recognized a collective tragedy: a nation where ordinary individuals are idolized and excellence is viewed as an intrusion will never progress.
When did we become so narrow-minded that meeting a public official-a servant of the people-is seen as a privilege rather than a right?
My upbringing was shaped by a man who truly understood service. My late father, the Chief Judge of Enugu State and one of Nigeria’s most respected jurists, held the longest tenure in that role. His door was always open, and his vision was never clouded by ego. He believed, profoundly, that leadership is a responsibility, not a status symbol.
He was discovered early in his career and appointed Senior Special Advisor by Sir Clement Akpamgbo, then Attorney General and Minister of Justice, who championed talent over tribe, age, or gender as the basis for opportunity.
This ethos molded my own principles. It is why I refuse to grovel for access, plead for inclusion, or express gratitude for what public service inherently demands.
Nigeria’s revival will not stem from elections, manifestos, or policy reforms alone. It requires a psychological revolution-a collective unlearning.
We must dismantle the culture of subservience that keeps citizens bowing. We must confront the inferiority complex that elevates public office to divine status. Above all, Nigerian men, especially those guarding power’s gates, must transcend patriarchal insecurities that seek to undermine capable women. Until then, our brightest talents will continue to serve the world, while gatekeepers at home stifle the nation’s promise.
Though I no longer hold a Nigerian passport, I carry its weight. I still yearn to love a country that offers me little yet persistently breaks the hearts of those devoted to it. Ultimately, nations do not crumble because of their leaders’ failures but due to the cowardice of those who idolize them.
• Dr. Cynthia C. Umezulike is an international human rights attorney, associate professor of law, and Director of the Centre for Sustainable Development and Climate Change at the University of Bedfordshire, UK. She serves as President of the Global Human Rights Centre and Vice Chair of the UK Human Rights Lawyers Association.