Nigeria surprises people who believe leadership involves duty. You watch a government hold an economic summit in a state that struggles with security. Then, you see who gets invited to headline it: The UK’s ex-Prime Minister arrives to applause, photo ops, and VIP escorts.
That spectacle passes for strategic governance. The actual benefits remain unclear.
The recent Imo State Economic Summit 2025 received Boris Johnson as a star guest. The UK stepped off the plane, looked around and declared he felt “perfectly safe” in Nigeria, dismissing global reports that warn of serious insecurity. He praised the Imo governor’s performance in infrastructure, electricity, and youth innovation. Foreign direct investment (FDI), he assured, would come.
That performance was not designed for citizens who line up daily to mourn kidnappings, inflation, and school closures. It targeted Western investors who judge countries by the smiles of visiting dignitaries. It helped the governor appear like a global statesman. It packaged Imo as a haven while many residents still live with and in fear. The nation was told to celebrate because a British resident says our streets feel safe. No evidence of improved safety. Only imported validation!
During that same summit, Johnson delivered a joke about Nigeria exporting “talent, tech geniuses, oil and gas” while importing from the West “former prime ministers, pharmaceuticals, bankers, and whiskey.” A few laughed. Others cringed. The line captured our tragedy more than Johnson intended. Nigeria exports its best minds and richest resources. Nigeria imports its conscience.
The objective of such events has become painfully obvious. If a foreign leader praises the governor, investors might follow. If a foreign newspaper prints flattering photos, the world might forget corruption and violence. This is not a development strategy. It is a creative direction. The goal is optics, because optics substitute outcomes.
Meanwhile, in Abuja, the screening of the newly appointed Minister of Defence revealed another layer of this insecurity of identity. The Senate President, Godswill Akpabio, warned the nominee with a comment that deserves a place in Nigeria’s museum of embarrassment. “Even Donald Trump is on our neck.” He explained that global concerns force senators to ask tough questions.
What exactly sits heavy on the Senate’s neck? The lives lost in communal attacks. The thousands displaced by insurgents. The schoolchildren who are sleeping in forests tonight. No. The pressure comes from a US president with no role in Nigerian governance. We are not accountable to the Nigerian people. We are accountable to whoever trends in Washington.
The Nigerian Constitution states that public officials swear to uphold the wellbeing and security of citizens. That oath sits beneath our leaders. Yet, fear of a foreign politician sits above them. The guardians of a sovereign nation do not tremble at the suffering of their people. They tremble at the thought of an outsider watching them fail.
This is the new theology of power. They look up to the hills. Their help does not come from Zion. Their help comes from Washington.
Nigeria’s leaders adopt foreign worry as their motivation. They take pride in foreign applause. They accept foreign humiliation as a joke to laugh along with. In the process, they turn the country into a stage designed to impress spectators rather than serve its citizens.
Foreign politicians help decorate our struggles so they appear less real. In Owerri, insecurity became a punchline. In Abuja, national defense became a talking point to appease an American media cycle. Both events served Western perception before Nigerian reality.
We pretend progress takes shape when someone who governed Britain once visits and smiles. We pretend accountability exists when a senator fears what a foreign news outlet might write. Build roads for cameras. Pressure ministers for CNN. Governance has become a performance directed at foreign audiences. The people living through hardship receive a supporting role. Their applause is not required.
Nigeria has a rich human capital. Yet, our leaders behave like they are auditioning. Every foreign guest becomes a judge. Every summit becomes a runway. Every policy becomes a plea for recognition. Instead of building strength, they beg for approval. Instead of securing communities, they secure talking points.
Real development does not arrive on a chartered flight. It starts when leaders stop treating citizens as background props. It grows when government actions answer the cries in hospitals, farmlands, and classrooms. It demands courage to fix problems without looking over the shoulder at the West.
Decolonization begins in the mind. The most dangerous coloniser today is not a foreign nation. It is the belief that Nigerian competence is foreign and Nigerian dignity is negotiable. It is the idea that everyday Nigerians are too ordinary to deserve excellence unless a foreigner first gives them a rating.
When will Africa stop exporting its dignity and importing its conscience? When will leaders stop chasing selfies with visiting VIPs and start delivering safety, electricity, and justice for real? When will accountability to Nigerians outweigh the anxiety over Western perception? Our systems will grow only when our pride grows. Our security forces will focus only when fear of our people’s anger outweighs fear of foreign scolding.
This country has warriors in its history, innovators in its streets, and survivors in its villages. They all deserve leaders who act for them…not leaders who treat governance as auditioning for outside approval.
If Nigeria wants to be respected, leaders respect Nigerians. If Imo wants economic growth, secure Imo people. If the Senate wants credibility, serve the nation that pays its salaries. Stop treating every political act like a formal request for validation.
*Mr Ukoh, an alumnus of the American University of Nigeria, Yola, and PhD student at Columbia University, writes from New York.
