The $20 Billion Question: Why Are Diaspora Nigerians Still Banned from Voting?

 

Nigerians abroad prop up the nation's fragile economy while corrupt politicians squander resources—it is time to let them vote and clean house.  If Nigerian leaders were as competent as the diaspora, maybe the naira wouldn't be in free fall; it is time to bring in those who know how to manage real economies.

Nigerians in diaspora often joke that their influence back home is like a magician’s wand—unseen, but impossible to ignore. And in Nigeria’s case, the magic is no illusion. Year after year, Nigerian expatriates sprinkle billions of dollars into the country’s economy, money that feeds families, educates children, and fuels small businesses. The figures tell the story: In 2023 alone, Nigerians abroad remitted a staggering $20 billion, just shy of the $21 billion sent in 2022, according to the World Bank. This immense economic contribution begs the question: Why are they still left out of Nigeria’s electoral process? Why aren’t they allowed to cast a vote or even hold political office in a country that benefits so much from their sweat and sacrifice?

While some might dismiss the notion of allowing diaspora voting as unnecessary or even radical, the truth is that these Nigerians are not only valuable assets to Nigeria’s economy but also its untapped political resource. It is not an exaggeration to say that excluding them from the electoral process is a grave injustice, given the weight of their economic contributions. The economic lifeline they provide strengthens Nigeria’s foreign exchange reserves, stabilizes the naira, and keeps many households afloat. Their role in maintaining Nigeria’s economy should grant them the right not only to vote but also to contest for positions ranging from local government chairpersons to governors and, yes, even the presidency.

One cannot deny that money talks, and when it comes to Nigeria’s diaspora, it is talking loudly. Nigerian expatriates, through their remittances, bring in a consistent stream of foreign currency, improving the country’s foreign exchange liquidity. This, in turn, helps cushion the naira against the constant threat of devaluation, a challenge Nigeria has been battling for years. Yet, despite this clear contribution to the country's economic health, their voices remain unheard in the political arena. How can a nation receive so much from its diaspora and still deny them the opportunity to participate in shaping its political future?

For those who argue that Nigerians living abroad are too detached from the realities on the ground to contribute meaningfully, consider this: Many Nigerians in the diaspora have firsthand experience navigating complex political and economic systems in countries that rank higher on the global development index than Nigeria. They have seen how efficient governance can transform a nation's prospects. They have witnessed how good roads, reliable power, and functioning institutions are the bedrock of a prosperous society. If these Nigerians were allowed to participate in their home country's elections, they could bring back these lessons learned and help inject fresh perspectives into Nigeria's governance.

History, in fact, provides compelling examples of how diaspora involvement has positively shaped political landscapes. Take Liberia, for instance. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Africa’s first female president, returned to Liberia after years in exile and worked tirelessly to pull the country out of its war-torn past. While Liberia’s political system is distinct from Nigeria’s, the lesson here is clear: Diaspora figures, armed with foreign experience and homegrown passion, can be potent agents of positive change.

Moreover, the exclusion of Nigerians in diaspora from political participation also raises fundamental questions about fairness. If these individuals are expected to contribute so significantly to the economy, why should they be excluded from the decision-making process? After all, the Nigerian constitution guarantees every citizen the right to participate in governance. Does this constitutional right stop at the airport security gate? How many more billions must the diaspora contribute before they are deemed worthy of a vote?

Furthermore, the idea that allowing Nigerians abroad to vote will reduce corruption in the electoral process is not far-fetched. Most of these individuals have had a taste of how functional democratic systems work. They have seen how voter registration, voting, and vote tallying are done transparently and fairly. Should they be allowed to vote, they would likely demand the same level of transparency and fairness back home, thereby forcing improvements in Nigeria’s notoriously corrupt election processes. It is difficult to rig an election when an informed and vigilant electorate—both at home and abroad—holds officials accountable.

One proverb says, "When you carry the elephant on your head, you don’t use your toes to dig up crabs." Nigerians in diaspora are already carrying the economic weight of the country. Denying them political participation while continuing to ask them for more economic contributions is not only ungrateful but also short-sighted. What Nigeria needs is a government that reflects the diversity and strengths of all its people, including those living abroad.

Some critics may argue that Nigeria’s diaspora, being far removed from the country’s day-to-day struggles, should not be allowed to run for high offices. But consider this: Every election cycle, candidates emerge from the woodwork who have barely lived in Nigeria for years. Some return just in time to run for office, their loyalty and love for the country questioned at every turn. Yet, they are given the opportunity to run. Why should Nigerians in the diaspora be any different, especially when their contributions to the economy are so vital?

The truth is that Nigeria can only benefit from the experiences and expertise its diaspora would bring. The perspective of living abroad—whether in the U.S., U.K., or elsewhere—equips many with valuable lessons on economic development, political accountability, and infrastructure management. Excluding them from the electoral process deprives Nigeria of their fresh ideas and innovative approaches that could potentially transform its governance and economy.

It is high time for Nigeria to break away from the old, restrictive notions of citizenship and political participation. In an era where globalization is the norm, where Nigerians can work in New York, London, or Dubai and still influence their country's economy from afar, restricting their political voice is nothing short of a travesty. Nigerians in diaspora are not ghosts in the system—they are very much alive and should be given a seat at the political table. In doing so, Nigeria can draw on its greatest resource: its people, no matter where they live.

And if Nigeria fails to realize the potential of its diaspora? Well, as one might say in satire, perhaps the $20 billion a year is just spare change. After all, what’s the value of a billion dollars compared to the inefficiencies of a broken electoral system that would rather exclude than empower? But then again, some might argue, why fix a system when it is working perfectly—for those in power, that is.