Hoping Against Hope, With Eyes Wide Open

Femi Akintunde-Johnson

As 2026 tiptoes in, one cannot help but nurse a basket of hopes – some modest, some audacious, many frankly exhausted by repeated disappointments. Hope, after all, is perhaps Nigeria’s most renewable resource. In this peculiar republic, hope is stubborn. It survives inflation figures, fuel price shocks, power outages and press conferences. It survives even when logic advises it to relocate.

 I look forward to a year in which our debt-loving, loan-prone federal administration would resist the almost instinctive urge to deploy the fiscal koboko – those draconian new tax regimes – against citizens already managing kobo-kobo livelihoods in an economy rendered hostile by runaway inflation, crippling insecurity, epileptic energy supply, economic stagnation and stubborn infrastructural decay. Taxation, in theory, is a civic obligation exchanged for public good. In practice, here, it increasingly feels like a fine for still breathing.

This is not an argument against taxes per se. Even the most ardent critics of government excess understand that states require revenue. But history teaches that taxation without visible reciprocity breeds resentment, evasion and quiet rebellion. When citizens pay more and receive less – less security, less opportunity, less dignity – the social contract quietly collapses. One does not whip productivity out of a hungry populace.

  I look forward to a year when proudly corrupt politicians – still perfecting their tap dance with the EFCC – would no longer stagger public sensibilities by openly declaring ambitions to contest for elective offices in 2027. In other societies, an ongoing corruption probe is a moral red card. Here, it is merely a yellow card, sometimes even a badge of relevance. The brazenness is not accidental; it is nurtured by weak consequences and selective justice.

 I look forward to a year when governments at federal, state and local levels would deploy the same ingenuity, urgency and determination used to source funds for their gargantuan salaries, allowances and perks, to also engineer solutions for the crushing economic conditions of the people. If creativity can be summoned to justify convoys, estacodes and retirement packages that resemble lottery wins, then surely similar brilliance can be applied to food affordability, public healthcare, housing and mass employment.

I look forward to a year when officials and civil servants would major in genuine development projects and targeted interventions, rather than the endless addiction to white-elephant schemes – those grand, mindlessly expensive exertions that flatter egos, decorate billboards and enrich only a familiar circle of contractors, cronies and hangers-on. Development should improve lives, not just procurement portfolios.

 I look forward to a year when sponsors, financiers and enablers of terrorism, banditry and kidnapping would be exposed, prosecuted and decisively punished – along with their sympathisers and ideological cheerleaders. Nigeria’s over 20-year flirtation with insecurity has graduated into a full-blown tragedy, claiming lives, emptying villages and normalising fear. It is difficult to convince citizens that the state is serious when known culprits are whispered about but never named, fingered but never jailed.

 I look forward to a year in which decisive joint military action – working with any capable and genuinely committed nations – would finally terminate this long, shameful romance with non-state actors who strut across our borders and countryside as though Nigeria were an abandoned estate. Such action must be intelligence-driven, precise and professional, ending threats without compounding trauma, and without the collateral loss of innocent lives. Security is not optics; it is substance.

I look forward to a year when young Nigerians would enjoy more respectable options for survival and growth, rather than being nudged – by unemployment, policy failure and despair – towards internet fraud, card scams, romance scams and other criminal enterprises. A society that closes legitimate doors should not feign moral outrage when some choose illegitimate windows.

 I look forward to a year when corrupt politicians and fraudulent individuals in high and low places would be exposed, shamed and promptly prosecuted – without the now-familiar theatre of media trials, endless adjournments and prosecutions so defective they appear deliberately designed to fail. Justice delayed is bad enough; justice deliberately sabotaged is worse. 

I look forward to a year when our law enforcement agencies would rediscover professionalism, empathy and service – gradually eroding their present reputation for brutality, extortion, greed and a slavish devotion to “returns”. Authority without humanity breeds fear, not order; resentment, not loyalty.

At this point, the cynic might scoff and ask: are these hopes not too ambitious for a country with such a long history of disappointment? Perhaps. But history itself offers sobering and inspiring counterpoints. Nations have stared into far deeper abysses and climbed out.

Japan, for instance, was literally flattened in 1945. Hiroshima and Nagasaki were not metaphors; they were apocalyptic realities. Infrastructure was annihilated, morale shattered, national pride pulverised. Yet within a few decades – through disciplined governance, strategic investment, national introspection and an uncompromising focus on education, technology and productivity – Japan engineered one of the most dramatic economic turnarounds in modern history. It did not happen by slogans, denial or magical thinking, but by hard choices, institutional reforms and a collective commitment to rebuild.

  Germany, similarly devastated after World War II, confronted its past, retooled its institutions and rebuilt its economy into Europe’s powerhouse. South Korea, once poorer than many African nations, invested aggressively in human capital, manufacturing and export-led growth, transforming itself within a generation. Rwanda, scarred by genocide, chose accountability, unity and discipline over endless victimhood, and rewrote its national narrative.

  These examples are not romantic tales; they are reminders that decline is not destiny. Prolonged downturns can be reversed – sometimes exponentially – when leadership aligns policy with purpose, and when citizens see evidence that sacrifice is shared, not selectively imposed.

Nigeria’s challenges, though severe, are not insurmountable. We are not rebuilding from nuclear ruins or devastating war defeat. We are rebuilding from policy missteps, elite capture, institutional weakness and moral fatigue. These are difficult problems, yes – but not irreversible ones.

What is required is not more rhetoric, but a radical recommitment to competence, fairness and long-term thinking. A willingness to tell hard truths. A refusal to mortgage the future for short-term political comfort. A leadership culture that understands that legitimacy is earned daily, not inherited by election alone.

Ultimately, I look forward to a year marked by a genuine reset of values: policies driven by evidence rather than ego; leadership guided by service rather than self-preservation; and a public space where truth is not treated as treason. These are not revolutionary demands. They are the minimum expectations of a serious republic.

And perhaps – just perhaps – if enough of these hopes take root, Nigeria may yet birth a new mindset: a citizenry infused with renewed patriotism, informed activism and a healthier nationalism – one that insists on accountability without losing its humour, resilience or humanity. Hope, after all, should not be an annual exercise in self-deception. It should be a quiet confidence that tomorrow can indeed be better… because those entrusted with power finally decided to do better.