Nigeria will soon be 66 and the search for stability continues

On October 1, 2026, Nigeria would be marking 66 years of self-rule. Sixty-six years is a long time in the life of a nation. It is long enough for a child born at independence to become a senior citizen. It is long enough for a country to have experienced monarchy, parliamentary democracy, military rule, presidential democracy, civil war, economic crises, political transitions and many hobbling attempts at national renewal. Nigeria's journey since October 1, 1960, has been anything but straight. Yet, through all the turbulence, the Nigerian spirit survived, and Nigerians, at home and abroad, have continued to believe in the possibility of a better Nigeria.

At independence, Queen Elizabeth II of England remained Nigeria's constitutional Monarch and was represented in the country by Governor-General Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe. Dr. Azikiwe hailed from Onitsha in Eastern Nigeria. Alhaji Abubakar Tafawa Balewa from Bauchi in the north exercised executive authority as prime minister and head of government. But the arrangement changed in 1963 when Nigeria became a Republic. Dr. Azikiwe became the country's first ceremonial, non-executive president, while Balewa continued as prime minister and head of government. The State House official historical record places Azikiwe's presidency from October 1, 1963 to January 16, 1966, and Balewa's tenure as Prime Minister from October 1, 1960, until January 15, 1966.

The distinction between ceremonial and executive authority in those early years is important because it reminds us that Nigeria's founding generation understood that the country required institutions, not merely personalities. So, while Azikiwe symbolized the nation, Balewa ran the government. Therefore, whatever criticisms historians may subsequently level against the First Republic, a major point to consider is that there was an identifiable constitutional structure before the military intervention of 1966.

Major-General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi became Head of State in January 1966, following a military putsch. Ironsi was from Umuahia in Eastern region. He was followed by General Yakubu Gowon, a northerner from Lur in Plateau state who governed from August 1966 until July 1975. General Murtala Mohammed, another northerner from Kurawa quarters in Kano state then took over and ruled until his assassination in February 1976. General Olusegun Obasanjo, a westerner from Ibogun-Olaogun in Ogun state succeeded him. Obasanjo handed over power to an elected civilian government in October 1979. The official record confirms this sequence of military administrations. Alhaji Shehu Shagari, a northerner from Shagari town in Sokoto state became the first Executive President of the Second Republic in 1979, beginning another civilian experiment.

That experiment was interrupted by another military coup in December 1983. Muhammadu Buhari, Ibrahim Babangida, Ernest Shonekan, Sani Abacha and Abdulsalami Abubakar subsequently occupied the nation's highest office before the return to civilian rule in 1999, when Olusegun Obasanjo became President. Since then, Nigeria has had Umaru Musa Yar ‘Adua, Goodluck Jonathan, Muhammadu Buhari and, since May 2023, Bola Ahmed Tinubu as President.

The list of Nigerian leaders since self-rule is long. But the expectations of Nigerians have been even longer. At 66, the question on the lips of many Nigerians is no longer simply who rules or who ruled Nigeria, or which region produced the President or Head of State. The more important question is what kind of country all these years of leadership produced.

There have certainly been achievements. Nigeria remains a major African nation with enormous human, agricultural, cultural and economic resources. It has maintained its territorial identity despite the enormous stress placed upon it from various angles. Nigerian people have continued to excel in business, science, medicine, academia, entertainment, sports and in professions across the world. Nigerians have repeatedly demonstrated an ability to succeed even when the institutions around them make success unnecessarily difficult. But by and large, a country must eventually judge itself by the ordinary lived experiences of its citizens. Consider the Nigerian road for example.

If truth be told, it would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to establish a culture of discipline in Nigerian communities when indiscipline on Nigerian roads is treated as normal. The road is one of the clearest places where the strength or weakness of a society's institutions can be visibly seen. A driver runs a red light. Another drives against traffic. It is not abnormal to see even government vehicles drive against one way, blaring their sirens along. Motorists park wherever they please. Motorcyclists ignore traffic regulations. Pedestrians cross dangerous highways because proper pedestrian facilities are absent. Road markings are not usually present or they have completely disappeared. Signboards are missing, damaged or obscured. In many rural communities, families and local groups install their own speed breakers because the appropriate authorities failed to provide adequate traffic-calming measures. That sort of situation should be a source of concern to every well-meaning Nigerian.

The Federal Road Safety Corps, FRSC, is legally charged with responsibilities that include determining and enforcing speed limits, standardizing highway traffic codes and enforcing compliance with traffic lights, road signs and road markings. The agency itself identifies speeding as a major contributor to road accidents. So, it is not like Nigeria lacks a legal framework for road discipline. What is often lacking is consistent implementation.

Therefore, at 66, every urban and rural road should have clear, visible and properly maintained markings. Speed limits should be displayed where motorists can easily see them. Dangerous bends, schools, markets, pedestrian crossings and construction areas should have appropriate signs. Cameras should be deployed at strategic locations to detect speeding and traffic-light violations. Where the law provides penalties, enforcement should be predictable and impartial. Running a red light should not be something a motorist does with the confidence that he can negotiate his way out of the consequences.

The FRSC has already published penalties for traffic violations, including speed-limit violations, road-marking violations, light/sign violations and dangerous driving. The issue is not simply the existence of laws: it is whether Nigerians see those laws being enforced consistently. The sight of speed breakers constructed by private families and communities across rural roads in practically every nook and cranny of the country should be regarded as more than an inconvenience. It is an indictment of public road-management responsibilities. If communities must create their own traffic-control infrastructure because government agencies have not done so, then government must recognize that something has gone wrong. The same issue applies to education.

After 65 years of self-rule, it is painful that Nigeria still has millions of children outside school. UNICEF reports that about 10.5 million Nigerian children aged 5–14 are not in school, and the situation is particularly severe in northern Nigeria. UNICEF's 2025 report also puts the number of children out of school at about 10.2 million at the primary level, with the Northwest and Northeast shouldering a particularly heavy burden.

One cannot ignore the obvious question: with so many Nigerian leaders that have emerged from the northern part of the country over the decades, why does the out-of-school crisis remain so scandalous in parts of the North? The answer cannot simply be politics. Poverty, insecurity, conflict, cultural practices, inadequate infrastructure and other factors would have all contributed to the menace. UNICEF has documented how conflict in the Northeast disrupts education, leaving millions of children in dire need of educational support.

But explanations must not become excuses. And the problem is not even confined to the North alone. Across parts of eastern and western Nigeria, children can often be seen hawking bread, fried plantain, sachet water and other commodities when they should be in school. An eight year-old child should not be shouldering the economic burden of a household on a roadside. A child belongs in school, not at a traffic junction, selling goods to passing motorists. Poverty may explain why a family sends a child to hawk, but it cannot make the situation acceptable.

Government has a responsibility to build a society in which parents do not have to choose between feeding their children today and educating them for tomorrow. The fact that millions of Nigerian children remain outside formal education after 65 years of self-rule is a national disaster, not just parental failures. The same principle applies to the Nigerian Police Force.

A country cannot seriously demand professional policing when it treats the welfare of its police force with levity that borders on disdain. Nigerian police officers operate under enormous pressure and risk. Their remuneration, accommodation, equipment, insurance, pensions and general welfare must reflect the importance of the work they perform. It is heart-warming that the federal government itself has acknowledged continuing police welfare problems in 2026, including inadequate accommodation, outstanding pensions, death benefits and other welfare obligations, and has started to review police salaries, allowances and welfare packages. This is important because poorly compensated institutions create fertile ground for corruption.

Nigerian politicians should not pretend they do not understand this. When an officer is poorly paid, poorly housed, poorly equipped and constantly exposed to financial pressure, the temptation to turn public authority into a weapon for private income becomes attractive. That does not excuse corruption, but a serious-minded country must understand that such conditions encourage corruption. Roadblocks where commercial drivers are stopped repeatedly, with money allegedly changing hands, are not symbols of effective policing. They are signs of institutional failure.

Nigeria needs a police force that is sufficiently paid, properly trained, adequately equipped and professionally supervised. The least paid police recruit should be paid at least N250, 000 a month – the equivalent of £140 or US $185. At the same time, officers who abuse their authority must be made to face severe consequences. Better pay must work together with higher standards, accountability and transparent disciplinary mechanisms.

Healthcare is another area where the country must move beyond promises. The National Health Insurance Authority Act of 2022 created a stronger framework for health insurance and provided for states and the Federal Capital Territory to establish schemes covering their residents. In September 2025, the NHIA announced a presidential directive aimed at implementing mandatory health insurance across federal ministries, departments and agencies, consistent with the provisions of the 2022 Act. The stated objective is to expand coverage and reduce out-of-pocket health expenditure.

That effort must be sustained and made genuinely inclusive. Health insurance should not become another programme that works best for those who already have money, connections or access to information. The farmer in a remote Kaduna village, the market woman in Lagos, the artisan in Enugu, the pensioner in Owerri, the informal-sector worker in Uyo and the unemployed young person in Ibadan should all be able to understand and access the system. A country of more than 200 million people cannot build a healthy future while millions remain vulnerable to catastrophic medical bills.

At 65, Nigeria entered the category that human beings call senior citizenship. But age, by itself, is neither an achievement nor a failure. What matters is what has been done with the years. Nigeria has had 66 years to learn. They have learnt that institutions matter. They have learnt that military intervention does not automatically solve civilian problems. They have learnt that elections alone do not create good governance. They have learnt that natural resources do not guarantee prosperity. They have learnt that constitutional rights mean little when institutions are too weak to protect them. They have learnt that a nation cannot educate itself through slogans, secure itself through speeches or develop itself through ceremonial projects. Most importantly, they have learnt that ordinary Nigerians carry an extraordinary amount of the country's burden. The Nigerian worker continues to work. The farmer continues to farm. The trader continues to trade. The entrepreneur continues to create. Parents continue to sacrifice for their children. Nigerians in the Diaspora continue to send money home, invest, build houses, support relatives and contribute knowledge and skills. In spite of the frustrations, Nigerians continue to believe that tomorrow must be better than today.

That faith deserves to be rewarded. The next chapter of Nigeria's history should therefore be about making government work in ways that ordinary people can see and feel. A disciplined road system should be unnegotiable. Children should be seen in classrooms rather than on streets. A properly remunerated and accountable police force will work with the ordinary citizens. A health-insurance system that actually protects the vulnerable must be maintained. Public institutions that enforce rules without discrimination must be put in place. Nigerians must intentionally create communities where citizens understand that government has responsibilities and citizens also have their own responsibilities.

Nigeria does not need perfection to move forward. It does not need a miracle. It needs consistency and a committed leadership. At 66, Nigerians cannot pretend that everything is well. Neither should they pretend that nothing has been achieved. Both extremes would be unfair to the country and to generations of Nigerians who have built, struggled, served, sacrificed and survived. The story of Nigeria since 1960 is a story of an unfinished work.

From Azikiwe's constitutional presidency and Balewa's executive government, through Ironsi, Gowon, Murtala Mohammed and Obasanjo, through Shagari and the long succession of military and civilian administrations that followed, down to the present administration of Bola Ahmed Tinubu, Nigeria has continued to search for the formula that will transform its enormous potential into broadly shared prosperity.

The search continues. So, on October 1, let Nigerians celebrate. Let them celebrate the country, its people, its resilience and its extraordinary capacity to survive difficult circumstances. But let the celebration also carry a sober commitment to do better at 66. A 66 year-old nation should have accumulated wisdom from its experiences. It should be capable of distinguishing between what works and what does not, between political theatre and genuine public service, between promises and measurable results. Nigerians at home and abroad are not asking for impossible things. They are asking for better roads, safer communities, functioning schools, accessible healthcare, professional security services, accountable institutions and leadership that understands that public office is a responsibility, not a privilege to be exploited.

Nigeria has done well, on the average, to reach this point. But more needs to be done. In the next few days, we should be saying “Happy 66th Independence Anniversary” to Nigeria. “Happy 66 years to Nigerians everywhere”. May the next chapter bring better, not worse, days, stronger institutions, not weaker ones; greater discipline, not deeper disorder; and effective, capable and compassionate leadership that recognises that the ultimate purpose of government is to improve the lives and dignity of the people it exists to serve.