Across the nation’s public arena stands a familiar figure: individuals whose fortunes rise not from production, innovation, or intellectual capital, but from their proximity to government authority. In Nigeria, political access often yields returns far faster than any factory line or technological breakthrough, creating an environment where ambition gravitates toward power rather than enterprise.
From the earliest years of the Republic, governance gradually transformed into an economy of its own. Influence became a tradable asset, and public roles morphed into investment vehicles. Appointment into a ministry, a board, or a strategic office often guarantees financial gain long before a single policy is drafted. Meanwhile, citizens attempting to build legitimate businesses frequently encounter an unforgiving landscape—one where every step forward feels like walking barefoot across stones.
Beneath this reality lies a troubling truth spoken quietly in offices and loudly in social spaces: many public officials operate as shadow entrepreneurs. Companies with no staff, no physical presence, and no operational assets sit registered in filing cabinets, created for the sole purpose of receiving government contracts. These entities exist on paper yet siphon resources meant for public development. The country loses revenue through acts performed with official signatures and sealed documents, all under the guise of procedure.
Beyond those corridors of privilege stands a different class of Nigerian—the young graduate attempting to launch a career or business. Despite credentials, talent, and relentless determination, many must borrow money for transportation to interviews, to print proposals, or to submit bids for contracts that were already predetermined for invisible companies. They enter competitions whose outcomes are often fixed, pursuing opportunities that vanish before they arrive.
This imbalance explains why Nigeria struggles to produce globally recognised business giants. Entrepreneurship cannot flourish without fairness, consistency, and systems that protect merit. Yet the prevailing ecosystem rewards political proximity over creative skill. Power becomes the express elevator to wealth, while genuine enterprise becomes a staircase riddled with missing steps.
Over time, this culture shapes how people think. The individual wearing agbada is praised more than the one running a workshop. Political figures are celebrated, while innovators and industrialists labour in silence. Young people grow up aspiring to shake powerful hands instead of designing innovations capable of transforming the continent. As an old proverb warns, a society chasing shadows will eventually forget the substance.
The result is an economy dominated by rent-seeking rather than value creation. People earn from the state, not by building institutions that strengthen it. Nations that value production rise through innovation and competitiveness; nations that prioritise political patronage shrink into cycles of dependence and stagnation. While emerging economies nurture world-class enterprises, Nigeria continues to elevate gatekeepers who ration opportunity.
Regulation too often becomes another barrier. Bureaucratic hurdles frustrate honest entrepreneurs, while those with connections bypass the same processes with ease. Energy supply remains unreliable. Agencies meant to support business sometimes function as toll collectors. Economic unpredictability keeps startups fragile and unsure of tomorrow. Running a company in Nigeria can feel like navigating rough waters without a compass.
Yet, beneath these obstacles, a new generation is carving a different path. Tech innovators are building solutions in Lagos and Abuja. Agricultural entrepreneurs are pushing boundaries across the Middle Belt. Designers and creators in Aba, Port Harcourt, and Lagos are crafting industries of their own. Investors are extending influence beyond Nigerian borders. Their work represents the version of Nigeria that has long been possible—one driven by creativity, resilience, and vision.
But meaningful change requires intentional choices. The nation cannot continue nurturing a system where political office is the quickest route to affluence while enterprise is left gasping for air. Nigeria must decide whether it will continue elevating wealth built on influence or champion wealth built on innovation.
Countries that command global respect do so because they produce thinkers, builders, and creators—not merely powerful individuals. Prosperity grounded in political access fades when administrations shift, but prosperity built on enterprise becomes legacy.
The decisive question remains: will Nigeria keep cultivating political tycoons who thrive on state power, or will it rise to develop business leaders capable of transforming industries and shaping the world?
The nation’s future depends on the answer.
