“But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” Amos 5:24 (NIV)

I write this with a heavy heart. A heart burdened, not with bitterness, but with truth. I am close to tears as I pen these words because what I share is not political rhetoric. It is not opposition talk. It is the raw cry of a patriot who has chosen not to look away.

There is a rising tide of what I call tokenistic nationalism, a brand of empty, performative loyalty that demands we celebrate isolated personal successes while ignoring the national dysfunction that suffocates the majority. They tell us, “The land is green if you choose to see it that way.” They say, “Don’t complain; build your own success.” They quote scriptures, “If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land”, to sanctify silence, twist optimism into denial, and reduce patriotism to positive confession.

And then they point to individuals, those who have “made it” in business, in career, in life, as proof that Nigeria is working. They name the few who built empires amid ruins, who thrived despite the odds. They weaponize these exceptions to shame the rest of us for seeing what is wrong, for daring to speak out, for demanding more.

But I ask: Since when did individual prosperity become the measure of national stability?

There is no nation on earth, no matter how broken, where someone isn’t “making it.” There are millionaires in Afghanistan. Entrepreneurs in Yemen. There are successful people in war-ravaged Syria, in Somalia under the grip of Al-Shabaab, in the Central African Republic. That someone built a company in chaos doesn’t mean the chaos is a conducive ecosystem. It just means someone found a way to survive.

Personal success is not proof of national success.

The real question is: At what cost are these successes attained? And what percentage of the population can access them? A man who thrives in a jungle does not make the jungle a paradise. A millionaire in the midst of mass poverty is still a poor man, because poverty is not only personal, it is communal. The Yoruba have a proverb: “Olowo kan láàrin igba òtòṣì, òtòṣì ni ẹni náà.”A wealthy man in the midst of the poor is still a poor man.

Let us look at the facts. Try obtaining a simple Letter of Administration in Nigeria. We’ve been on one for over two years. We paid all statutory government fees, millions. Yet, we are stuck. Even publishing a basic legal notice in the newspaper, after payment has become an uphill task. Bureaucracy is a weapon. Incompetence is a gatekeeper.

To change the Incorporated Trustees status of a client’s NGO took over six months. The Corporate Affairs Commission tampered with our files. We reported. We placed notices in newspapers. Yet, no remedy. Why? Because systems are not designed to serve. They are designed to frustrate.

And still, we are told: “Just build your own life.” “Don’t talk politics.” “Be grateful.”

I ask again: Is that how nations are built?

Nation building is not about individual effort alone. It is about creating an egalitarian system where the majority can find a pathway, not by luck, not by hustle, not by bribery, but by design.

In developed countries, success is not accidental. It is system-enabled. In such nations, long life, health, education, and dignity are not privileges. They are expectations. Life expectancy in the West is higher, not just because people pray more, but because their health systems work. In contrast, our life expectancy in Nigeria is shamefully low, yet we quote scriptures and refuse to confront the reality that systems make prophecies manifest.

Even the Bible says, “With long life will I satisfy you.”But in Nigeria, long life is rare. Why? Because satisfaction requires structure, not just scripture.

Let us be honest. We are not suffering because God cursed us. We are suffering because we normalized mediocrity and spiritualized dysfunction.

What do we say of a nation where:

• Over 20 million children are out of school?
• Universities are two generations behind global standards?
• Poverty is deepening daily, as confirmed by the National Bureau of Statistics?
• The ease of doing business is a nightmare, and institutions are predictably unreliable?

And yet, we are told: “Just focus on your lane. Build your brand. Nigeria is great if you want it to be.”

This is not patriotism. This is delusion.
This is not hope. This is denial.
This is not faith. This is foolishness.

I am a patriot, not because I pretend Nigeria is working, but because I believe it can.
And because I believe it can, I refuse to shut up. I refuse to be hypnotized by personal privilege into silence about collective pain. My umbilical cord is buried in this land. It is my home. It is where I shall return when my work is done.

Let it be known: Tokenistic nationalism will not save Nigeria.
We need real systems. We need working governance. We need equity. We need justice.
We need to build a nation, not a jungle where the lucky escape and the rest are blamed for not being lucky enough.

Let no one preach to us with personal stories of success as proof that Nigeria is fine. One green patch does not make a field lush.

We are not ungrateful. We are just tired. And our tiredness is not weakness. It is a righteous demand for a better country.

Let the world hear this cry.
Let the politicians hear it.
Let the Church hear it.
Let the silent elite hear it.
Let every sleeping soul awaken.

Nigeria can work. But it will not work by accident.
It will not work by silence.
It will not work by tokenism.

It will only work when we stop pretending and start building.

So I write this not just as a citizen, but as a father. My son is only three years old. He may not yet understand these words, but one day he will. And when he does, I want him to know exactly where his father stood, on the side of justice, truth, and the fight for an egalitarian society. A society that reflects the heart of God for mankind. That is why God gave us laws. For this reason, numerous promises, such as prosperity, health, creativity, and human flourishing, are more frequently realized in societies where justice and development are established.

Let it be known: being spiritual and building a developed nation are not mutually exclusive. The very civilization we admire today was built on the moral foundation of scripture. Scholars like Vishal Mangalwadi have shown us that the Bible was not just a book of private devotion, but a blueprint for public good.

So if I don’t make it to that promised land with my son, if I never see the Nigeria of my dreams, I want him to know that his father did not keep quiet. That I spoke. That I hoped. That I fought, not with violence, but with vision. And that he, too, must never settle for a nation that silences its conscience with slogans, while its systems crumble beneath its people.