Nigeria's leaders are fooling themselves and the masses—no amount of kneeling in prayer will magically fix a broken power grid, put food on the table, or stop a terrorist's bullet. It’s time for Nigeria to trade its prayer mats for blueprints and action plans.
Prayer
is a safety net; action is a survival strategy. Once again, Nigeria finds
itself at a crossroad, with its political elite reaching out to higher powers
for help. A week ago, a national summit of prayers led by First Lady Oluremi
Tinubu and National Security Adviser Nuhu Ribadu saw the country’s religious
divide uniting in a common, if misguided, cause: national salvation through
divine intervention. The National Prayer Forum brought Christian and Muslim
leaders together to "rescue" Nigeria from the grip of economic
hardships and insecurity. But history has shown that when the house is burning,
it's water you need, not words muttered to the sky.
It
is baffling that as Nigeria continues to plunge deeper into economic despair,
its leaders think it sensible to conduct a prayerful escapade instead of
addressing the root causes of the nation's misery. Ribadu, a man appointed to
tackle insecurity with intelligence and decisive action, instead chose to lead
people in recitations, as if prayers alone could repel the AK-47s of bandits or
shield villages from raiding terrorists. It brings to mind a proverb: "He
who thinks prayers can substitute for effort will end up praying over an empty
pot."
Consider
the reality of the Nigerian situation in 2024: energy prices have soared
uncontrollably, inflation eats through people's savings faster than a raging
wildfire, and the naira—once considered a symbol of national pride—has
plummeted to disastrous lows, leaving citizens clutching worthless banknotes.
Hunger walks the streets of Nigeria with a brazenness unseen before, hand in
hand with poverty and rising insecurity. It is not just the day-to-day
struggles that make this country a grim place for its citizens, but the stark
contrast between Nigeria’s abundant natural wealth and the desperation of its
people. And instead of policies and governance to resolve these issues,
Nigerians are handed prayers. As if God needs reminding of Nigeria’s suffering.
Take
a look at the First Lady, Oluremi Tinubu, who, after initially championing
these national prayers, distanced herself when the absurdity of it all became
apparent. She, too, must have come to the realization that Nigeria's problems
aren't supernatural—they are man-made and must be solved by the people who made
them. The issues plaguing Nigeria aren’t some divine curse waiting to be
lifted; they are the results of years of policy neglect, incompetence, and
corruption that no amount of praying hands can fix.
Let
us look at the facts: Since the 1980s, Nigerians have been gathering for what
is euphemistically termed "Prayer for Nigeria in Distress." Yet from
then until now, the country has spiraled further into hardship. The distress
has become a chronic ailment, growing and expanding. Back in the 1990s, the
problems were clear—unemployment and a declining infrastructure—but today, the
challenges have taken on catastrophic proportions. Electricity, which once
flickered weakly through Nigerian homes, is now a ghostly memory for millions.
Blackouts persist because the power grid is nothing more than a jumble of
failed ambitions and corruption. But instead of connecting the dots, Nigerian
leaders would rather connect rosary beads or count prayer verses.
It
is not prayers that transformed Saudi Arabia from a desert kingdom into a
glittering land of opportunity, nor is it prayers that turned Israel into a hub
of technological innovation and agricultural prowess. It was vision, education,
strategic investments, and above all, action. When Saudi Arabia discovered oil,
its rulers built roads, skyscrapers, and the best social services money could
buy. Israel, surrounded by hostility, invested in technology and
self-sufficiency. Iran, even under a strict Islamic regime, managed to build
and export drones to Russia—not because they prayed but because they invested
in research and education. Nigeria, on the other hand, has invested too heavily
in faith at the expense of action, leaving the country morally and economically
bankrupt.
It
bears repeating that positive change comes not from passivity but from action.
Prayers can be comforting, yes—they provide hope, solace, and community—but as
the basis for governance? It's a recipe for failure. Even in deeply religious
societies, there is an understanding that divine intervention does not
substitute for human responsibility. The government has failed to prioritize
investments in infrastructure, failed to harness the nation’s vast human
resources, and has consistently failed to implement even the most rudimentary
policies that could foster growth.
Religious
leaders, too, bear responsibility for their complicity. Instead of challenging
the state, calling out the hypocrisy of leadership, and demanding systemic
reforms, they lead prayer gatherings, often funded by the very government whose
incompetence has brought the nation to its knees. While other countries make
strides in technology and public health, Nigeria's political elite funds
pilgrimages for clerics while hospitals lack syringes and schools operate
without textbooks.
The
Nigerian National Security Adviser (NSA), Nuhu Ribadu, should be less concerned
with the choreography of prayer gatherings and more focused on how to secure
the nation. Imagine, in a time when kidnappers terrorize communities and
insurgents still control parts of the north, the NSA decides his priority
should be a prayer jamboree. Does he really believe that prayers are the armor
Nigeria needs against kidnappers’ bullets or that prayer sessions will
outmaneuver terrorists lurking in the shadows? It’s absurd. He may as well send
prayer warriors to the frontlines to hold off insurgents with Psalms and
Koranic verses. It’s a dark comedy, with Nigeria as the unfortunate punchline.
Even
worse is the hypocrisy that often accompanies these prayer movements. The same
leaders urging Nigerians to gather in mosques and churches send their children
to study abroad, to live in environments secured by good governance and
functioning economies. They know that the difference between chaos and order
lies not in how fervently one prays but in how well systems are planned,
financed, and implemented.
The
Nigerian government must come to terms with its responsibilities. Rather than
outsourcing the future to the divine, they need to focus on practical
solutions—repairing the broken power sector, addressing the root causes of
insecurity, and putting into place competent leaders, not prayer warriors.
Concrete actions such as incentivizing local agriculture, investing in
education and technology, and curbing corruption will do more to change
Nigeria’s trajectory than any number of prayers.
The
truth is, prayers won't fill the potholes in Nigeria’s roads, prayers won't
stabilize the naira, and they certainly won't bring back the lives lost to
insecurity. Nigerians have been praying since the 1980s, and if prayers were
the answer, the nation should have been transformed into an economic paradise
by now. Instead, while people’s knees have grown calloused from decades of
kneeling, the country’s potential continues to slip away like sand through a
clenched fist.
What
Nigeria needs is action—visionary, determined action. Positive action led
countries like Israel and Saudi Arabia from deserts to developed nations, and
it is action, not chants or solemn gatherings, that will rescue Nigeria from
the desert of despair. So, while it’s good to pray, it’s far better to get up
afterward and do what needs to be done. After all, as they say, God helps those
who help themselves. And if God were Nigerian, He might just be waiting for the
government to do their part before He considers doing His.
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