It’s 2025, yet it feels like we are stuck in a political time machine, dragged back to 1960 — the same tired faces, the same broken promises, and the same rigged game. I look around and wonder: have Nigerian youth, especially those from the Middle Belt (or North Central if you prefer), gained any real political traction? Have we evolved at all, or are we just spinning in circles, too distracted to notice the opportunities slipping through our fingers?
Frankly, I am numb. Across our region, the focus of our youth has barely shifted from the typical cycles of ass-kissing and blind loyalty. Substance and principle — the real markers of leadership — are nowhere to be found. Instead, we continue to worship our tribes, cling to our religious affiliations, and fight petty battles that mean nothing in the larger political arena.
It’s so absurd that we bicker over who arrived first at a cultural event. We allow half-baked “activists” to insult democratically elected leaders, not through informed critique but with sheer recklessness. Meanwhile, true resourcefulness remains a ghost among us. I can almost bet my life that across the Middle Belt, you won’t find 50 young people under 50 who can individually pull together ₦100 million EACH! if we needed it for political mobilization. Compare that to the South East, where young moguls — Cubanas, Chief Priests, and the rest — routinely gather millions just to host lavish events.
Our region is ravaged by conflict and banditry. Our villages burn. Our brothers and sisters are displaced. Yet what do we do? Sit behind our keypads, tweeting and arguing with each other while the flames consume us. No collective innovation, no radical ideas to rebuild, to resist, to empower. We are stuck in cycles of complaints and conspiracy theories while our leaders — knowing full well we cannot think beyond our next meal — manipulate us with crumbs.
And it’s a cruel irony. The Middle Belt is one of the most blessed regions in Nigeria: scenic beauty that could power a tourism industry, land so fertile we could feed not just ourselves but half of West Africa, mineral resources that could fund generations of prosperity. Yet we are marginalized, politically second fiddle to regions that have nowhere near our natural wealth.
Why?
Because we have refused to grow up politically.
We do not organize.
We do not build institutions.
We do not demand better, at least not intelligently.
We cling to emotional politics, to kinship politics, to religious politics, and every time we fall for it, we lose another decade. Another generation wasted. Another opportunity missed.
What is leadership if not the ability to think beyond yourself? What is representation if it is based only on who speaks your language or prays the way you pray?
There is no savior coming.
The change must come from us — you reading this, me writing this, us collectively rejecting the poverty of mind that has held our region hostage.
We must start thinking in terms of institutions, not individuals.
We must start building financial war chests, not just fan clubs.
We must start respecting ideas, not just faces.
We must start creating think-tanks, media arms, innovation hubs — not just WhatsApp groups filled with gossip and tribal slogans.
Because the truth is brutal:
If you are not organized, you are irrelevant.
If you are not resourceful, you are disposable.
If you cannot think beyond your stomach, you are a slave.
Maybe someday we will wake up. Maybe someday the Middle Belt youth will realize the power they have been squandering for decades.
Maybe.
But until then, the rest of Nigeria will keep playing the game — and we will keep watching from the sidelines, wondering what went wrong.
Signed,
A Brother Who’s Tired but Still Hopeful
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