By Obong Akpaekong
Nigeria is 66 today as an independent nation. Sixty-six years since the Union Jack was lowered and replaced by Nigeria’s Green-White-Green national flag. Sixty-six years since Britain formally handed political power to Nigerians and the country began the long, difficult experiment of governing itself.
Another important number is 27. That is the number of years Nigeria has spent under uninterrupted civilian rule since 29 May, 1999. As we celebrate another Independence Day, perhaps we should pause the familiar speeches about greatness and ask a rather uncomfortable question: After 66 years of independence and 27 years of uninterrupted democracy, how far have we really travelled?
Perhaps the first achievement is that Nigeria has survived. That may sound like a very low standard for a country celebrating 66 years of independence. But it is not. Nigeria has survived a civil war, military coups and counter-coups, prolonged military dictatorship, the annulment of elections, ethnic and religious crises, economic upheavals, insurgency, banditry, kidnapping and separatist agitations. Yet the country remains one.
We have also learnt, painfully and gradually, that military intervention is not the answer to political disagreement.
Since 1999, governments have changed through elections rather than military coups. The 2023 general election was the seventh successive general election conducted since the return to civilian rule in 1999.
Our electoral umpire, the Independent National Electoral Commission, INEC, has introduced technological reforms, including the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System, the electronic results viewing platform and other measures aimed at modernising elections.
That does not mean Nigerian elections are perfect. But the fact that political power has been transferred repeatedly without soldiers taking over the government is itself an important part of our democratic journey.
The 2015 election was particularly significant because it produced the first defeat of an incumbent president at the ballot box in Nigeria’s history.
Democracy, however, is more than elections. And this is where the Nigerian story becomes more complicated.
We have learnt to hold elections. We have not yet completely learnt to build institutions that command the confidence of citizens. We have created legislatures, courts, electoral bodies and other democratic institutions. But the quality of democracy ultimately depends on what these institutions do for the citizen.
Can the citizen obtain justice without knowing somebody? Can the young graduate find meaningful employment without political connections? Can the farmer produce food and move it to the market without losing much of its value to poor roads, insecurity and transportation costs? Can the ordinary Nigerian enjoy electricity without a private power arrangement?
These are questions that determine whether democracy is merely a political arrangement or a genuine instrument of development.
Socially, Nigeria has changed enormously. The Nigeria of 1960 is almost unrecognisable today. Education has expanded. Many Universities, polytechnics and other tertiary institutions now operate across the country.
Nigerians have distinguished themselves in virtually every profession – medicine, law, engineering, science, journalism, literature, academia and business, carrying the excellence far beyond Nigerian borders. This is most visible in culture.
Nigerian literature has produced internationally recognised writers. Nollywood has become a global cultural phenomenon. Nigerian musicians have taken the Afrobeat genre to a global audience. Nigerian fashion, food, art and entertainment have become important components of Africa’s global cultural identity.
Even where governments have struggled to project Nigeria’s soft power, Nigerians themselves have been outstanding ambassadors.
The advancement in telecommunications is one of the greatest transformations of everyday Nigerian life since independence. In 2000, mobile technology was still in its infancy in the country. But today, the National Communications Commission’s report of July 2026 said there were more than 157 million active GSM subscriptions, while broadband subscriptions exceeded 124 million.
This means that a trader in remote Njaje in Akamkpa Local Government Area of Cross River State, on the Nigeria-Cameroon border, can communicate instantly with a customer in Lagos. With connectivity, a student can access lectures and information from anywhere. Money can be transferred without visiting a bank. A journalist can report an event almost instantly, as the mobile phone has become a bank, newspaper, classroom, marketplace and office.
Yet, some questions are difficult to answer. For instance, why has Nigeria’s economic transformation not produced comparable improvements in the quality of life of the majority? We have oil. We have gas. We have enormous agricultural land. We have minerals. We have one of Africa’s largest markets. We have a remarkably entrepreneurial population.
We have some of Africa’s biggest banks and telecommunications companies. We have a thriving entertainment industry and an increasingly sophisticated technology sector. Yet poverty remains widespread.
The World Bank estimates that more than 60 per cent of Nigerians were living below the national poverty line in 2025, while it also reports that economic growth in 2026 has improved but remains insufficient to generate enough productive jobs and reduce poverty. This is perhaps Nigeria’s greatest paradox.
We have produced billionaires while millions struggle with the necessities of life. We have impressive economic statistics that do not always translate into impressive household realities.
There is a distinction between economic growth and development. Growth tells us that the economy is expanding. Development asks whether the expansion is improving people’s lives. Nigeria needs both.
The same contradiction is visible in infrastructure. We have both magnificent and terrible roads. We have modern airports and communities that remain difficult to reach. We have world-class private hospitals and public health facilities that struggle with basic equipment. We have universities producing brilliant graduates and a youth population facing a difficult employment market.
The World Bank says infrastructure gaps, particularly in electricity, transport and logistics, continue to hinder productivity and domestic market integration in Nigeria.
We have the Nigerian spirit. Nigerian is resilient and refuse to surrender. When public electricity fails, Nigerians buy generators and solar power. When the formal economy cannot provide employment, Nigerians create businesses. When the public transport system fails, Nigerians invent alternative transportation. When the banking system becomes difficult, fintech entrepreneurs create new ways of moving money. When government does not provide enough opportunities, Nigerians look beyond the country’s borders.
At 66, therefore, Nigeria’s story is a story of remarkable possibilities and frustrating contradictions. We have remained one country. We have maintained democratic government for 27 years. We have developed a vibrant private sector, transformed communication, produced globally respected professionals and cultural icons. We have remained an important political and economic force in Africa.
But we have also failed to fully convert our enormous natural and human resources into broad-based prosperity. That should be the real conversation on this Independence Day. Not whether Nigeria is great, but how can we transform individual greatness into a collective national greatness.
Independence gave us sovereignty. Democracy allowed us to choose our leaders. But neither independence nor democracy automatically produces development.
Development requires institutions that work. It requires leaders who understand that public office is not private property. It requires citizens who demand accountability.
It requires an economy that creates productive jobs, education that prepares young people not simply to pass examinations but to solve problems, electricity, security, healthcare, transportation and justice that ordinary citizens can actually depend upon.
Nigeria is 66. That age is too old for a country to continue blaming its problems entirely on its colonial past. Twenty-seven years of democracy is long enough to ask whether democracy is delivering what Nigerians reasonably expect from it.
The greatest tribute we can pay the men and women who fought for our independence is not another round of patriotic speeches. Nigeria has travelled a long distance since 1960. But the most important journey is still ahead.
At 66, the question is no longer whether Nigeria can survive. It is whether Nigeria can finally turn survival into prosperity, democracy into development and enormous potential into a better life for the Nigerian people.