There are around 30 places globally named “London,” a legacy of the British capital’s historical influence. About 18 of these—including three significant cities—are in the United States. Even in Nigeria, the fascination with London runs deep: Abiriba in Abia State is affectionately nicknamed “Small London,” and a town in Delta State, 117km from Asaba, bears the name without irony.
London holds an almost mythical status in the Nigerian psyche. It represents aspiration, luxury, and escape. Nigerians dream of it, live in it, invest in it, and sometimes die with chunks of it in their names. The city drips with Nigerian wealth, both legitimate and looted.
London has served as the backdrop for some of Nigeria’s most infamous political sagas. It’s where the government once attempted to repatriate Umaru Dikko by stuffing him into a crate. It’s also where disgraced Bayelsa governor Diepreye Alamieyeseigha, facing prosecution, disguised himself in women’s clothing to flee.
In 2013, Nigeria’s government ordered 53 gold-plated iPhones from London to mark the country’s 53rd independence anniversary. In 2016, The Economist, headquartered there, labeled President Goodluck Jonathan “an ineffectual buffoon.” London is also where former Petroleum Minister Diezani Alison-Madueke’s facade unraveled, exposing billions in illicit assets—among them, a $37.5 million mansion in Lagos.
In 2022, Bola Ahmed Tinubu used London’s Chatham House as a campaign stage—only to awkwardly delegate his questions to others. Former President Muhammadu Buhari spent so much time there for undisclosed medical reasons that he became a virtual fixture of the city.
Now, senior officials of the Tinubu administration are returning to London—this time not for treatment or scandal but allegedly to host a press conference extolling the president’s “achievements.” The irony is unmistakable: a nation writhing in economic pain, insecurity, and disillusionment sending emissaries to London to celebrate itself.
According to Bode Adeyemi, Project Internal Coordinator of the Bola Tinubu Midterm Legacy Projects Review Committee, the event will highlight progress in infrastructure, the economy, security, healthcare, aviation, job creation, and digital development. The British, it seems, are expected to be dazzled by tales of roads that barely exist and hospitals that function mostly in rhetoric.
Adeyemi claimed milestones such as the commencement of production by local and private refineries, progress on local government autonomy, and high-profile infrastructure like the Lagos-Calabar Coastal Road and the Sokoto-Badagry Superhighway. He cited subsidy removal, IMF debt repayment, and improved state allocations as evidence of success.
But on the ground in Nigeria, reality bites. Just last week, Defence Minister Mohammed Badaru admitted to a “resurgence” of Boko Haram. His vague solution? Faith and prayers. Meanwhile, Naval Chief Emmanuel Ogalla suggested a “spiritual response” to insecurity—remarks he made while commissioning churches in Abuja, far from any battlefield.
Public despair has reached new lows. Yoruba socio-political group Afenifere recently described Tinubu’s “Renewed Hope” agenda as “a nightmare of regressing hopelessness and despair.” In its words, the administration refuses to take responsibility for its failings and instead doubles down on propaganda and excuses.
The Nigeria Labour Congress echoed these frustrations, decrying rising poverty, broken promises, and economic pain inflicted by misguided policies. “Real wages have been wiped out,” it stated. “Over 150 million Nigerians are now multi-dimensionally poor.”
International watchdogs have noticed. The International Christian Concern criticized the government’s inability to curb violence in the Middle Belt, pointing to deep-rooted religious persecution and a lack of economic opportunity as persistent threats to national stability.
The PUNCH, in a recent editorial, condemned Nigeria’s ruling elite as selfish and myopic, lamenting their failure to build institutions or uphold the rule of law. The paper recalled how Tinubu, once a champion of restructuring, now shuns reform in power.
Just nine months ago, on Nigeria’s 63rd independence anniversary, The PUNCH declared bluntly: “At 64, Nigeria has lost its way.”
Yet today, while citizens suffer, a coterie of government officials prepares to wine and dine in London, touting incomplete projects like the 700km Lagos-Calabar highway—only 2% finished and quietly reduced from 10 lanes to six. Works Minister David Umahi, who has yet to complete a major road project, is expected to speak. FCT Minister Nyesom Wike will likely highlight his bus terminals—never mind that there are no buses.
Even their rhetoric on the “rule of law” rings hollow, given the administration’s persistent disregard for court orders since 2015, including repeated refusals to disclose details of repatriated funds.
Still, there are rare glimmers of hope. Interior Minister Olubunmi Tunji-Ojo, one of the few ministers demonstrating foresight, has emphasized the need for innovation-driven governance and ethical leadership. “Leadership is not about reacting to problems,” he said. “It’s about foreseeing and solving them before they occur.”
One hopes he says the same things behind closed doors in cabinet meetings—and more importantly, that someone is listening.
