Lying on my bed this morning, I found myself wondering about Nigeria, not the Nigeria I know today, but the Nigeria that existed before I was born, before my parents were born, and before October 1, 1960 became the date we proudly call Independence Day. I began to wonder what Nigeria might have been if independence had not come, and what freedom actually meant to the generation that fought for it. Before independence, Nigeria was governed under British colonial rule, with political authority ultimately resting outside the country.
The struggle for self-government was therefore not simply about changing the flag; it was about the right of Nigerians to determine their own political destiny. When independence finally came on October 1, 1960, Nigeria emerged as a federation of three regions—Northern, Western and Eastern, with a parliamentary system of government. Three years later, the country became a republic and created a fourth region, the Midwest.
That freedom did not arrive by accident. It was the product of years of political agitation, intellectual work, protests, negotiations and journalism. Herbert Macaulay, Nnamdi Azikiwe, Obafemi Awolowo, Ahmadu Bello, Tafawa Balewa, Anthony Enahoro, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, Margaret Ekpo, Aminu Kano and several others were part of a generation that challenged colonial authority in different ways. Enahoro, a journalist and political activist, moved the historic motion for Nigerian independence in 1953. Awolowo published Path to Nigerian Freedom and championed federalism and self-government. Azikiwe used journalism and political mobilisation to popularise nationalism, while Macaulay had already established himself as a leading anti-colonial political figure. These were not people who inherited freedom; they contested for it.
And perhaps nowhere was that battle more visible than in the Nigerian press. Before independence, journalism was not merely a profession; it was one of the major instruments of political mobilisation. Ernest Sisei Ikoli, whose editorials centred on independence, edited and founded several newspapers, including the African Messenger and Daily Service. Azikiwe founded the West African Pilot in 1937, a newspaper explicitly associated with the nationalist struggle. The Daily Times, established in 1926, also became an important platform in the nationalist era, while Awolowo’s Nigerian Tribune, established in 1949, was used to raise political consciousness. Other journalists and writers, including Mbonu Ojike, Kolawole Balogun, M.C.K. Ajuluchukwu, Peter Enahoro, Sa’ad Zungur, Abubakar Zukogi, Raji Abdallah, Lateef Jakande and others, contributed to the press and political struggles of the period. Their story is important because it reminds today’s journalists that the Nigerian media did not begin as a passive observer of history; it helped make history.
But independence did not magically solve the problems that colonialism had left behind. The First Republic, from 1960 to 1966, began with a parliamentary democracy but was eventually overwhelmed by political tensions, regional competition and instability. The military intervened in January 1966, followed by another coup, ethnic violence, the declaration of Biafra and the Civil War from 1967 to 1970. Military rule then continued until 1979. The Second Republic under President Shehu Shagari restored civilian government in 1979 but was overthrown by the military in December 1983. Nigeria subsequently passed through another decade of military rule, the aborted Third Republic and the short-lived Interim National Government of Ernest Shonekan, before General Abdulsalami Abubakar handed power to an elected civilian government on May 29, 1999. The Fourth Republic has endured since then.
The journey from 1960 to 2026 therefore cannot honestly be told as either a story of total failure or uninterrupted progress. Nigeria has made remarkable gains alongside painful setbacks. The oil era generated revenues that financed infrastructure and national development, even as dependence on petroleum exposed the country to volatility and weakened incentives for diversification. Democratic continuity since 1999 has provided a political stability that earlier generations did not enjoy, while telecommunications, digital finance, technology, entrepreneurship and the creative economy have transformed how millions of Nigerians work, communicate and participate in economic life. Nigeria’s digital economy now encompasses digital infrastructure, platforms, financial services, entrepreneurship and skills—areas that were scarcely imaginable at independence.
Yet at 66, the harder question is whether national progress is reaching the Nigerian who does not read economic reports but knows exactly what a loaf of bread, a bus fare, a hospital bill and a litre of petrol cost. The Tinubu administration has undertaken some of the most consequential economic reforms in recent Nigerian history, particularly the removal of the petrol subsidy, foreign-exchange reforms and measures intended to restore macroeconomic stability. The reforms have produced measurable gains in government revenues, external balances and economic activity. The IMF reported that growth reached 3.4 per cent in 2024, while the World Bank says Nigeria’s economy expanded by 3.9 per cent year-on-year in the first half of 2025. But the same institutions have also documented the other side of the adjustment: high poverty, food insecurity, weak household incomes and the heavy burden of inflation.
This is where the subsidy question becomes more complicated than the political slogans surrounding it. Removing the petrol subsidy has reduced a major fiscal distortion and created room for government revenues to improve; the World Bank says the reform, alongside foreign-exchange changes, has helped restore macroeconomic stability and strengthen external balances. But the immediate cost has been severe for many households because transport, food distribution and business operations are closely tied to energy prices. By September 2026, petrol was selling at different prices across the country, with reports of prices approaching or reaching ₦1,500–₦1,600 per litre in some markets. The important question is therefore no longer simply whether subsidy removal was necessary, but whether the savings and wider economic gains are being converted into better public transport, stronger social protection, productive jobs, reliable electricity, affordable healthcare and a reduction in the cost of living.
The same test applies to healthcare, agriculture and security. Nigeria continues to lose trained health professionals to countries offering better pay and working conditions; the WHO-supported health-system assessment says shortages, uneven distribution, remuneration, working conditions and migration remain significant challenges. Agriculture still has enormous potential, yet insecurity, weak productivity, logistics and infrastructure continue to constrain farmers and food systems. Meanwhile, banditry, kidnapping and insurgency remain major threats, particularly in parts of northern Nigeria. A country celebrating 66 years of independence cannot afford to treat security as merely a military problem. It is simultaneously an economic problem, a food-security problem, a healthcare problem, an education problem and a national-development problem. A farmer who cannot safely reach his farm, a doctor who leaves because the system cannot retain him, and a child who cannot safely attend school are all manifestations of the same national challenge: the inability to convert national resources into human security.
And then comes 2027. Nigeria’s next general election is scheduled by INEC for February 20, 2027 for the presidential and National Assembly elections, followed by March 6 for governorship and State Houses of Assembly elections. But beyond personalities, parties and campaign promises, the coming election should force a more mature national conversation: What kind of economy should Nigeria build? How will insecurity be confronted? How will hospitals retain professionals? How will agriculture become commercially productive? How will electricity become dependable? How will technology create millions of productive opportunities rather than simply produce a generation of young Nigerians seeking escape abroad? How will public institutions become stronger than individual personalities? These are not questions that can be answered by one administration alone. They require continuity, competent institutions, accountable leadership and citizens who understand that democracy is more than voting every four years.
At 66, perhaps Nigeria’s greatest achievement is not that we have become the country our founding generation imagined. We have not. It is that, despite coups, civil war, military rule, economic crises, insecurity, corruption, poverty and repeated disappointments, Nigeria is still here and millions of Nigerians are still building, creating, teaching, reporting, farming, inventing, serving, praying and believing. The independence generation fought for the right of Nigerians to determine their own destiny. The responsibility of our generation is to make that destiny worth having. Nigeria does not need another generation that merely survives its problems; it needs one that solves them. So, on this 66th Independence anniversary, we should remember those who fought to give us a country, scrutinise those entrusted with its leadership, and recognise the millions of ordinary Nigerians whose daily sacrifices keep it alive. The road has been long, and it has not been easy. But perhaps the most important thing about Nigeria at 66 is this: we are not finished. There is still a Nigeria to build—and there is still every reason to believe that we can build it.
