Personality cults, where societies elevate leaders to near-messianic status, carry enormous dangers. Studies show that when leaders are portrayed as unique saviours, individuals above constraints of institutions or norms – governance becomes hyper-personalised and prone to instability. In some cases, such dynamics mirror religious devotion rather than critical political judgment
THIS article is presented in three interconnected parts, each examining a different layer of Nigeria’s present crisis. Taken together, they reflect on the warning signs history provides, the deepening fractures within our nation, and the growing temptation to look outward for salvation rather than inward for reform. In this first part, the focus is on how Nigeria arrived at this troubling moment – where persistent internal violence, failed leadership, and widening divisions have collided with unprecedented external scrutiny. It revisits earlier warnings, interrogates the dangers of personality cults in global politics, and questions the emerging belief that Nigeria’s redemption must come from a foreign strongman rather than from national responsibility and institutional renewal.
As a student of history, I have learned that nations rarely collapse without warning. The signs are often written plainly – in blood, in broken trust, in reckless rhetoric, and in the growing distance between a people and those entrusted with their leadership. It is from this historical consciousness that I observe, with deep concern, recent developments surrounding our nation’s security: the persistent killings, the brazen acts of violence across regions, and what increasingly appears to be a deliberate effort by unseen hands to render Nigeria ungovernable.
These troubling internal challenges have now been compounded by external commentary. The recent statements attributed to the President of the United States, followed closely by what can only be described as a shameful and humiliating deliberation by the U.S. Congress on Nigeria, represent a new low in how our country is perceived on the global stage. For a nation that once commanded respect as Africa’s giant, such scrutiny is not only painful – it is alarming. History teaches us that when foreign powers begin to openly debate the fate of a sovereign nation, it is often because that nation has failed to put its own house in order.
This dangerous convergence of internal chaos and external judgment stirred something familiar in me. It took my mind back, vividly, to an article I wrote on this same column exactly five years ago, bearing the title “Nigeria, My Country, So Divided.” At the time, it was a warning – born not of pessimism, but of careful observation. That article was published in my weekly columns in The Sun, The Pointer, and online platforms, where it sought to draw attention to the widening fault lines threatening our national cohesion. It is doubtful – indeed, deeply regrettable that many of today’s leaders ever read that article. If they did, perhaps they dismissed it as alarmist, or as the musings of an ageing observer. Yet, looking at Nigeria today, one cannot escape the unsettling feeling that the piece was not merely prescient, but prophetic. The divisions I wrote about then – ethnic, religious, political, and economic have not healed. Instead, they have widened, hardened, and become weaponised.
Ironically, I had almost forgotten about that article myself, buried as it was under the weight of time and newer national tragedies. That was until I received an unexpected call from a longtime friend. In a tone that blended humour with seriousness, he referred to me as “the man who saw the future.” That remark jolted my memory and forced me to revisit the article. As I read through it again, I was struck by how little had changed – and how much worse things had become.
What I saw was a mirror held up to our present reality: a nation fragmented by mistrust, governed by short-term calculations, and drifting dangerously without a unifying moral compass. The warning signs I identified five years ago are now impossible to ignore. They stare at us daily – from the headlines, from mass graves, from displaced communities, and from the quiet despair of ordinary Nigerians who no longer believe that tomorrow will be better than today.
Yet while our internal discord is tragic enough, there is now another development that should trouble every thoughtful Nigerian and global observer alike – an emerging narrative that what Nigeria lacks most is external salvation. We are watching, in real time, as some hold their breath for foreign intervention, as if our future hinges on a distant strongman rather than on our own resolve.
In recent months, there have been reports that senior NATO officials described U.S. President Donald J. Trump as uniquely capable of brokering peace in ongoing global conflicts. According to official White House communications, world leaders at an international peace summit praised Trump for his role in efforts toward a path to peace in Ukraine, with comments suggesting that such breakthroughs may not have been possible without his leadership. In addition, Trump himself publicly stated concerning Nigeria: “They’re killing record numbers of Christians in Nigeria. They’re killing the Christians and killing them in very large numbers. We’re not going to allow that to happen… If we attack, it will be fast, vicious, and sweet, just like the terrorist thugs attack our CHERISHED Christians!”
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu also weighed in, stating: “The persecution of Christians or members of any religion cannot and must not be tolerated. And the displacement and attacks against Christians in Nigeria, that too must end. And it must end now… Israel is the only country in the Middle East where Christians can practice their faith with full rights and in total freedom, where Christian pilgrims are embraced with open arms and are so deeply appreciated, where Christians can celebrate their traditions proudly and openly without any fear.”
If correct, this portrayal reflects more than admiration; it reflects a dangerous global fixation on the idea that peace must come from one man. History is not kind to such thinking. Twelve decades ago, a similar myth grew around Adolf Hitler, who was once seen by some as a strong figure who could restore order in Europe. Instead, his rise led to the deadliest conflict humanity had ever seen. World leaders of that era mistakenly believed that appeasing or relying on Hitler’s supposed greatness would secure peace; they were wrong. Appeasement did not prevent war – it emboldened aggression and widened catastrophe.
Modern political science has studied this phenomenon extensively. Personality cults, where societies elevate leaders to near-messianic status, carry enormous dangers. Studies show that when leaders are portrayed as unique saviours, individuals above constraints of institutions or norms – governance becomes hyper-personalised and prone to instability. In some cases, such dynamics mirror religious devotion rather than critical political judgment. Examples abound. Around the world, figures like Venezuela’s Hugo Chávez and his successor stirred devotion not just through policy but through emotive identification with followers, often at the expense of institutional checks and balances. Scholars have noted that populist leaders – whether in Caracas or Washington tend to centralise power and frame their leadership as indispensable for survival, a condition that undermines orderly governance.
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II
Nations that fail to assert sovereignty over their resources risk being manoeuvred into dependency or influence by external powers. The scramble for these resources is strategic as much as it is economic, showing that global politics is rarely driven by altruism; it is driven by access, leverage, and long-term advantage
IN this second part, the article widens its lens from warning to analysis. It interrogates the global consequences of elevating political leaders into saviours and examines how power, economics, religion, and identity converge in modern geopolitics. Using the American experience as a case study, this section explores how personality cults, economic policies, and strategic posturing ripple across borders – shaping global alliances, destabilising economies, and influencing how vulnerable nations, including Nigeria, are perceived and positioned in the emerging world order. At its core, this part challenges the seductive but dangerous belief that national redemption can be imported.
In the American context, commentators have described elements of Trump’s following as exhibiting cult-like loyalty, with supporters venerating him in ways that resemble religious devotion rather than civic allegiance. Statements like “I alone can fix it” and claims to be the voice of the people foster a dynamic where loyalty to the leader overshadows loyalty to democratic institutions.
One must never take the outward appearance of a leader or the allure of power for granted, for in many cases, the carefully cultivated image is designed to mask deeper and more far-reaching agendas. Political posturing, no matter how appealing, often conceals motives that impact nations far beyond borders. In today’s interconnected world, the consequences of these manoeuvres are swift, systemic, and sometimes devastating.
Take, for example, President Donald Trump’s global tariff regime. At first glance, tariffs may appear to be a tool for domestic economic advantage, but the ripple effects extend far beyond U.S. shores. Developing nations, suddenly facing higher costs and disrupted trade flows, were forced to rethink their financial arrangements. Many sought alternative convertible currency systems and trade partnerships, aiming to reduce dependence on the U.S. dollar. What seems like a policy targeting trade deficits is, in reality, a trigger for global economic recalibration. Economists now note that such shifts have begun to affect American markets as well, signalling that the once-unassailable dominance of the U.S. economy is no longer guaranteed.
Beyond economics, there is a broader geopolitical implication. America, long accustomed to unchallenged influence on the global stage, is increasingly wary of emerging powers asserting themselves. Europe, Asia, and even some African nations have been quietly strengthening alliances, modernising infrastructure, and investing strategically to gain leverage in the 21st-century order. Washington’s anxiety over losing supremacy is not merely about prestige – it is about control over resources, technology, and global governance.
Africa, in particular, has become central to this new global calculus. The continent’s wealth of minerals – critical for electronics, defence systems, and renewable energy technologies – places it squarely in the crosshairs of global competition. Nations that fail to assert sovereignty over their resources risk being manoeuvred into dependency or influence by external powers. The scramble for these resources is strategic as much as it is economic, showing that global politics is rarely driven by altruism; it is driven by access, leverage, and long-term advantage.
Domestically, the intertwining of politics and identity adds yet another layer. Trump’s public embrace of Christian communities, particularly in connection with allies like Israel’s Prime Minister, has more than symbolic significance. It signals to his domestic base that he champions a moral cause, while simultaneously influencing international narratives about the U.S. as a protector of persecuted religious groups. Political loyalty, in this context, becomes tied not only to ideology but to the perception of personal protection and global intervention. The message is clear: support the leader, and the leader will protect your values even beyond your borders.
This is the point at which Nigeria must pause and reflect. We cannot afford the dangerous illusion that solutions to our challenges – security, governance, economic malaise, social fracturing – will arrive attached to a foreign figure or foreign power. Historically, no nation has risen by outsourcing its salvation. Peace will not come simply because a distant leader is praised as indispensable. Indeed, commentators on global policy have warned that such reliance on a foreign saviour can destabilise international order, breed resentment, and weaken the very foundations of peace these saviours claim to uphold.
As Kwame Nkrumah once declared regarding African independence: “The independence of Ghana is meaningless if other African countries continue to be colonised. It is only after the entire continent is independent that our independence shall be meaningful.” His words remind us that true freedom and security come from unity, self-reliance, and confronting our own challenges – not waiting for foreign intervention.
Similarly, Nelson Mandela emphasised: “I detest racialism, because I regard it as a barbaric thing. Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land will again experience the oppression of one by another and suffer the indignity of being the skunk of the world.” The lesson is clear: liberation and justice require our own commitment, not the goodwill of outsiders.
It is for this reason, out of duty, not nostalgia, that I have chosen to republish that article. Not to say “I told you so,” but to remind us that nations can still change course if they are willing to confront uncomfortable truths. History is unforgiving to leaders who ignore warnings, but it is also generous to societies that choose reflection over denial. Therefore, I present once again, five years later, an article whose relevance has not faded, whose message has not softened, and whose urgency has only grown:
NIGERIA, MY COUNTRY, SO DIVIDED.
In the 1960s, I was a young man who had just graduated college in the United Kingdom. I remember how excited I was and very much in a hurry to return home to my beloved country, Nigeria. It was a nation that was united and emerging, a country that was getting ready to compete with the rest of the emerging nations and a country that was expected to lead the rest of Africa. The prospects for Nigeria were endless. I recall telling my friends and mates in the United Kingdom before I left to return to Nigeria that, if there was any continent that was likely to become another America, it would be the continent of Africa, led by Nigeria, because Nigeria had everything: human capital, fertile land for agriculture, oil and gas, gold, diamond and more. It was easy to get caught up in my excitement as they wished me well and made plans to come visit my country soon.
What emerges from this examination is a sobering truth: global power is never exercised in innocence, and salvation offered by outsiders always comes with conditions. The convergence of economic leverage, religious symbolism, and political loyalty reveals how easily nations can mistake strategic interest for moral concern. For Nigeria, this moment demands clarity rather than desperation. History, as this section reminds us, does not reward nations that surrender their agency to foreign narratives or charismatic figures. It rewards those that recognize warning signs early, reclaim responsibility for their own future, and understand that true sovereignty – political, economic, and moral cannot be outsourced. This reflection sets the stage for a deeper return to Nigeria’s own story, its missed opportunities, and the painful lessons contained in its past.
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III
…the people of this country have been injured and fractured with unnecessary killings and division. The truth, therefore, must be told so that the process of healing and forgiveness can start and, in so doing, a united Nigeria can return once more.
IN this final part, the article turns inward and backwards – away from global powers and foreign saviours, and toward Nigeria’s own lived history. Through personal memory and national reflection, it revisits a moment of immense promise, when hope, unity, and ambition defined the Nigerian story. This section is not nostalgia for its own sake; it is an interrogation of how a nation that began with confidence and cohesion descended into cycles of coups, war, division, and unresolved grievances.
Another key part of the ’60s was that it was also the era of space exploration. The continent of Europe had explored space, and the Americans and the Russians had landed on the moon. It was my greatest hope, as someone who loved adventures and discovering new things, that Nigeria would follow, and I would likely be part of that exploration. In my euphoria, I could not wait to get home to commence the adventure, so I decided to kick-start it by driving my old car from London across Europe, over the Mediterranean sea in a ship and back on land to navigate through North Africa and across the Sahara to get to Nigeria in a journey that lasted two months and almost took my life. I remember vividly the moment the idea to drive across the Sahara took root in my mind. It was sometime around the end of summer 1964. I had just watched a video film made by my friends who had just come back from an expedition through the Balkans in East Europe. I was supposed to have been part of the expedition but I had dropped out at the last minute because I was unable to raise the required £300 (three hundred pounds sterling) like the others to buy the equipment required for the journey. Upon their return, I watched the video clips, and I felt very bad.
Noticing my depression, one of my closest friends at the time, Len Cocker, tapped me on the shoulder and said, “C’mon, man, don’t get emotional. We can do bigger things in the future.”
I was not impressed, and neither did I lighten up. The reason was simple: my studies were over, and I was preparing to return home to Nigeria. So, he suggested jokingly that we should drive across the Sahara. Intrigued, I asked him, “Is it really possible to drive through the Sahara?” He confessed that he had no idea but promised that we could find out. That was it for me, although my friend decided not to embark on the journey after we found out it was possible but very dangerous. I, on the other hand, was not deterred by the warnings.
So, I did it at the end of 1965, and that was not the last time I made the journey despite the challenges.
My return home was quite the experience. I was celebrated and became the Desert Warrior, known as the first man to drive solo from the UK to Nigeria. That was to be the start of something great, or so I thought, as I had barely settled in when the first military junta began following the 1966 Nigerian coup d’état, which overthrew Prime Minister, Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, and made Major General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi the head of the Federal Military Government of Nigeria. He, too, was soon overthrown and murdered in a coup in July of the same year. This followed a long list of more military coups than a civil war that lasted three years. During that time, we went from four regions, namely, the Northern, Western, Midwest and Eastern regions, to 12 states and now 36.
The military coup, the civil war, the killings, the divisions and the bitterness that followed divided our country to a point of no return, causing the nation to degenerate to one huge ball of fractured pieces that may never fit quite well together again.
Every time I talk to my children and grandchildren, biological and non-biological, across the country, they have asked questions like, will Nigeria ever get back to the good old days of my time? I have found this question very useful, and most of us in the age bracket of recipients of those good old days must provide the answers before we all go back to our creator, and for us to do that, we must all go back to the beginning. The good Nigeria I grew up in gave me so much: a sound education, the ability to travel the length and breadth of the country and outside its shores, it also gave me hope. It felt like one nation, and I can say this after living in almost every part of the country. So, allow me to pose some questions to my generation and those who remain very much alive to provide the much-needed answers that this nation needs before we can begin a process of reconciliation and healing:
- What started the Western Nigeria crisis that was partly responsible for the military intervention in 1966?
- Why did the military overthrow themselves?
- Why the civil war – what happened to the Aburi accord?
- Why was the best election ever conducted in Nigeria annulled?
- Why is the military now wearing civilian clothes still in power?
- Why are we talking about Biafra almost 40 years after the civil war?
- How was Western Nigeria able to approach Oduduwa so diplomatically and even rule?
- Why did 11 states in northern Nigeria ask to belong to Sharia?
- What truly gave rise to Boko Haram and why are we still unable to tackle it?
- Why are people at the top very uncomfortable with the idea of resource control?
We, the people of Nigeria, must find answers to these questions; if not, the unity that we so very much desire will continue to elude us. Our inability to find answers has prevented Nigeria from emerging into its full potential 58 years after independence, leaving us still as a third-world country.
This is my 49th article in this column that started a year ago, in article 32, titled “Nigeria: A Nation in Need of an Intervention,” I had stated that there was a need to for us to look back a little and review all the crises that have engulfed this country since after independence in 1960, making it look as if we are not capable of governing ourselves. I noted that it was time we prepared the platform for truth and reconciliation, if we had any desire to embrace lasting peace and unity. There are many conversations that need to be had to aid or assist us in reviewing our mistakes, our bad deeds and bad judgments. We can learn something from South Africa, even if it means asking for help from outside the country. Recall that the UK did the same to resolve the Northern Ireland crisis that lasted almost three decades, with the help of an American Senator named George Mitchell. People like Senator Mitchel, Kofi Annan and Desmond Tutu are difficult to find but not impossible. Barack Obama is a great choice because he displays a clear understanding of our unique problems and has shown himself capable of carrying the leadership mantle. So is Robert Mugabe, for a different reason that may be open to debate.
I conclude by reiterating that the people of this country have been injured and fractured with unnecessary killings and division. The truth, therefore, must be told so that the process of healing and forgiveness can start and, in so doing, a united Nigeria can return once more.