From “I see hope” to where is the hope? – The ultimate test of leadership is not how eloquently it explains the difficulties of today, but how convincingly it inspires confidence in tomorrow. Nigeria needs more than economic recovery. It needs a restoration of national hope. It needs leadership that can transform the anxiety of survival into the confidence of opportunity, the frustration of the present into the promise of the future, and the resilience of its people into a collective belief that their best days are still ahead. Essentially, a nation cannot indefinitely ask its people to believe in tomorrow when the realities of today continually undermine that belief… Hope is what makes people wake up in the morning believing that tomorrow will be better than yesterday. When that belief begins to disappear, a nation faces a crisis that goes beyond economics and politics. It faces a crisis of confidence and a contradiction in its ability to articulate its own future. Hope must cease to be a political slogan and become a lived reality and an article of faith for Nigerians. The present leadership could still inspire hope.
By Sonny Ogulewe
“Without hope, it is impossible to wake up in the morning,” says Tova Friedman.
Friedman is a Jewish-American Holocaust survivor who experienced the horrors of Auschwitz as a little girl, having been born in 1938. She endured the unimaginable brutality of the Holocaust. This profound observation was made during an appearance on CNN sometime in 2023. I must say that there is something profoundly philosophical about this observation by Friedman. It speaks to a fundamental human instinct, which includes the willingness to confront the uncertainties of today because we believe tomorrow holds the promise of something better. Hope is not merely an emotion; it is a sustaining force that fuels human ambition, gives meaning to our sacrifices and provides the courage to endure difficult circumstances.
Sometime in September 2002, I was privileged to be part of the team in the office of the Honourable Minister of Information and National Orientation, under the erudite Professor Jerry Gana, that organised the first-ever Nigerian Children’s Summit. We gave the event a rather compelling theme: “I See Hope.”
The choice of that theme was neither accidental nor an exercise in political sloganeering. It was the product of deep reflection on the dividends of democracy and the developments taking place under the Obasanjo administration. Having assessed the direction of the country, we genuinely believed that Nigeria was beginning to reclaim its promise. We saw hope, not merely because we wanted Nigerians to be optimistic, but because there were visible indicators to justify that optimism.
Nigeria had emerged from years of military dictatorship, institutional decay and international isolation. The country was burdened by an external debt stock of approximately $28.8 billion as it entered the democratic era in 1999. According to CBN reports, this was reduced to $28.4 billion in 2002. Although the debt position remained a serious challenge, the administration was making efforts to stabilise the economy, rebuild public institutions and restore confidence in the Nigerian state. There were visible efforts to rehabilitate dilapidated infrastructure, expand road construction across the country and make democratic institutions work.
The foreign exchange market was receiving attention, and the government was pursuing policies aimed at restoring macroeconomic stability. The anti-corruption campaign had acquired an institutional expression with the establishment of the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC) in 2000. State governors were increasingly being challenged to account for the resources allocated to their states, while the return to democratic governance had begun to restore Nigeria’s international standing. A country that had once suffered the indignity of being treated as a pariah was gradually regaining its place in the comity of nations and becoming an increasingly attractive partner in international diplomacy.
These developments were not necessarily evidence that all our problems had been resolved. Far from it. But they offered Nigerians something invaluable: a reason to believe that the country was moving in the right direction. There was a sense that the sacrifices of the struggle for democracy were beginning to yield dividends and that the future could be better than the past. Hope was therefore not an abstraction; it was anchored in the perception of progress, institutional renewal and the possibility of a better tomorrow. That was why we could confidently proclaim, “I See Hope” for the Nigerian child.
For a nation, hope is equally indispensable. Citizens may endure temporary hardship, make sacrifices and tolerate difficult reforms when they believe that their suffering is part of a larger national journey towards prosperity. But when hardship becomes unending and excruciating, when sacrifices appear to yield no dividends, and when the future offers no convincing prospect of improvement, something more fundamental begins to break down. It is not merely the economy that suffers; it is the collective spirit of the people.
More than two decades later, I find myself returning to that theme with a profound sense of reflection, knowing that one could no longer confidently say, “I See Hope.” Can we still say, with the same conviction, that we see hope in Nigeria today? What has happened to the optimism that once accompanied our democratic journey? Have we lost the capacity to inspire our people with a compelling vision of tomorrow? The question becomes even more important when we consider the circumstances confronting Nigerians today. The cost of living has become a source of daily anxiety for millions of households. Food, transportation, housing, healthcare and education increasingly compete for incomes that are already stretched beyond reasonable limits. Unemployment and underemployment have weakened the confidence of young people in the promise of their country. Insecurity continues to threaten lives, livelihoods and the ability of communities to pursue normal economic activities. For many families, survival has become a more immediate concern than the pursuit of prosperity.
This is perhaps one of the most troubling dimensions of Nigeria’s present predicament. Nigeria is not simply experiencing an economic crisis; it is experiencing a crisis of hope, confidence and national expectation. The tragedy is not only that millions of Nigerians are struggling to survive today, but that an increasing number are finding it difficult to imagine a better tomorrow. The country appears trapped in a cycle of economic uncertainty, social dislocation and political anxiety, in which the struggle for survival has gradually displaced the pursuit of a decent and fulfilling life.
Where is the optimism that could inspire hope when a UNICEF survey conducted in 2018 indicated that the number of out-of-school children in Nigeria had risen from 10.5 million to 13.2 million, among the highest figures in the world. It is reasonable to assume that this figure has increased further, given that the underlying causes of the crisis have remained largely unabated. Although the Federal Government disputed the UNICEF figure, it nevertheless acknowledged that 10,193,918 Nigerian children were out of school. Whichever figure one chooses to accept, the undeniable reality is that Nigeria continues to grapple with one of the world’s largest populations of out-of-school children.
The situation is equally troubling in the area of youth unemployment. Nigeria reportedly ranked 154th out of 181 countries globally in 2025, according to Geo Factbook. These figures paint a disturbing picture of a country struggling to provide its young population with the opportunities and economic prospects necessary for a productive future.
Meanwhile, economic hardship has continued to deepen. The World Bank’s 2025 report estimates that about 69.6% of Nigerians live below the lower-middle-income poverty line of $4.20 per day, while 50.8%, representing roughly 123 million people, live in extreme poverty. This means that between 2020 and 2025, about 32 million Nigerians were added to the 91 million Nigerians who were living in the multidimensional poverty bracket in 2020, representing approximately 43 per cent of the country’s population. Consider that in 2020, the price of petrol peaked at approximately ₦162.44 per litre, while the official exchange rate stood at ₦382.18 to the US dollar. Against this background, one can begin to appreciate the magnitude of the economic distress confronting Nigerians today, when petrol prices range between ₦1,420 and ₦1,500 per litre, while the official exchange rate averages approximately ₦1,348.74 to the US dollar.
The question, therefore, is not merely whether Nigerians are enduring economic hardship, but whether the prevailing circumstances provide any compelling basis for optimism about tomorrow. Hope cannot thrive on rhetoric alone; it must be sustained by tangible improvements in the living conditions, economic opportunities and general well-being of the people.
While the economic hardship is painful, the security situation across the country has also worsened. Farmers can no longer go to their farms; children can no longer go to school, and people are now afraid to travel safely across the country. The BBC reported that terrorism-related ransom payments in Nigeria accounted for approximately $6 million in 2025. Meanwhile, Leadership Newspaper reported that Nigerians paid approximately ₦7.78 billion in ransom to terrorists and non-state actors between July 2025 and June 2026. According to the 2026 Global Terrorism Index, Nigeria ranks fourth, with a score of 7.792 on a 10-point scale, behind Niger, Burkina Faso and Pakistan among the 80 nations surveyed. What is even more worrisome is that Nigeria ranks ahead of countries such as Afghanistan, Somalia, Syria and Yemen, while the Central African Republic and Tanzania are at the bottom of the ranking, with scores of 0.556 and 0.888 points, respectively.
Consequently, the Round 35, December 2020, Displacement Tracking Matrix (DTM) conducted by the International Organization for Migration (IOM) indicated that there were approximately 2,150,243 internally displaced persons across Nigeria as a result of the activities of Boko Haram, banditry and herder-farmer clashes across the country. The second-quarter 2026 Displacement Tracking Matrix puts the figure at 3.8 million, showing that more Nigerians are being displaced.
Nigeria’s problems are complex and interrelated and cannot be treated in isolation. Corruption remains a major challenge in the country. Okonjo-Iweala aptly illustrates this in her work, Fighting Corruption Is Dangerous. She cited an instance in which the Presidential Committee found subsidy claims for shipments by “ghost vessels” that never supplied any products, as well as shipments by vessels that were in China and the South Pacific at the time they were allegedly trans-shipping off the coast of Cotonou, Benin. These were verified by Lloyd’s Register, which tracks the movement of ships all over the world. There were also subsidy claims for which there were no shipping documents or evidence of foreign exchange payments for the products. Various overpayments, wrongful claims and breaches of the Petroleum Subsidy Fund guidelines were also detected. The Presidential Committee found that, of the ₦3.3 trillion ($8.8 billion) verified, ₦382 billion ($2.5 billion) was fraudulent or questionable.
Transparency International (TI), in its Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) 2020, indicated that Nigeria occupied the 149th position out of 180 countries surveyed. This was a worrisome decline from the 137th position out of 175 countries surveyed in the CPI 2014 report. Today, Nigeria has not made any remarkable progress, currently ranking 145th out of 182 countries on the Corruption Perceptions Index. This is not surprising, considering that the principles of transparency in public procurement have been flagrantly disregarded. In addition, Nigeria’s total debt stock has risen from ₦87.38 trillion ($113.42 billion) in June 2023 to ₦210.63 trillion ($145.015 billion) in December 2025, according to Daily Trust, November 6, 2026, without a corresponding improvement in the economic well-being of the citizenry. Such information challenges our resilience and diminishes our optimism for a better tomorrow.
The government may point to improving macroeconomic indicators, increased revenues, foreign exchange reforms and other signs of economic stabilisation as evidence that the country is moving in the right direction. These indicators are important, and it would be intellectually dishonest to dismiss every effort being made to correct the structural weaknesses of the Nigerian economy. Indeed, the present administration inherited an economy burdened by years of fiscal distortions, excessive dependence on oil revenues, institutional inefficiencies and policy inconsistencies. However, acknowledging inherited problems cannot become a permanent justification for the failure to deliver tangible improvements in the lives of citizens. Economic recovery must ultimately be measured by what it means to the ordinary Nigerian, not merely by what it communicates through official statistics.
Nigerians are right to ask: What does economic recovery mean to a family that can barely afford three decent meals a day? What does exchange-rate stability mean to a small business owner struggling with the cost of electricity, transportation and raw materials? What does increased government revenue mean to a pensioner who cannot meet basic household expenses or a parent who must choose between paying school fees and providing food for the family? These are the questions that should occupy the conscience of those entrusted with national leadership. An economy may be showing signs of recovery on paper, but if the benefits remain largely invisible to the majority of its citizens, the recovery remains incomplete and illusory.
Perhaps the most disturbing feature of contemporary Nigeria is the extent to which survival has become the overriding preoccupation of its people. For many households, life has been reduced to a daily calculation of what can be afforded and what must be sacrificed. Parents struggle to keep their children in school, young graduates confront an uncertain future, and entrepreneurs battle rising operating costs and declining purchasing power. The Nigerian worker increasingly discovers that a monthly salary loses much of its value before the month is over. Food, which should be the most basic expression of economic security, has become a source of anxiety for millions. In such circumstances, it becomes difficult to contemplate optimism about the future when the demands of surviving today consume virtually all the energy, resources and imagination of the people.
Beyond the economic crisis is the equally disturbing challenge of insecurity. The persistent threats of terrorism, banditry, kidnapping and communal violence have diminished the sense of safety that citizens should ordinarily enjoy in their own country. Farmers cannot confidently access their farmlands in some communities, travellers worry about their safety on highways, and families live with the constant anxiety of kidnapping. Entire communities have been displaced, while economic activities in affected areas have been disrupted. Security is not simply about military operations or the number of arrests and casualties recorded. It is about the confidence of citizens that the state can protect their lives, property and livelihoods. How can a farmer plan for a productive harvest when accessing his farmland could cost him his life? How can investors commit substantial resources to an environment where the security of their investments and personnel remains uncertain? A nation cannot inspire confidence in tomorrow when its citizens are apprehensive about surviving today.
There is also a serious leadership dimension to Nigeria’s present predicament. Leadership is not merely about making difficult decisions; it is about explaining those decisions, building consensus around them, managing their consequences and, above all, giving citizens a credible reason to believe that their sacrifices will eventually produce better outcomes. This becomes even more important when the extravagant and celebratory lifestyles of those in leadership stand in stark contrast to the harsh economic realities confronting ordinary citizens. The removal of petrol subsidies and the unification of exchange rates were presented as necessary interventions to address structural distortions and restore economic stability. There may well have been compelling economic arguments for these reforms. However, economic reforms must ultimately be judged not only by their theoretical merits or macroeconomic outcomes but also by their consequences for human welfare. Government cannot indefinitely ask citizens to endure hardship in anticipation of benefits whose arrival remains uncertain. There is a difference between communicating economic achievements and inspiring national confidence. The former requires statistics; the latter requires visible evidence that ordinary lives are improving. A government that constantly celebrates economic indicators without sufficiently acknowledging the everyday struggles of its citizens risks creating an unfortunate disconnect between the governing elite and the governed.
Perhaps the greatest danger confronting Nigeria is the gradual erosion of hope among its younger population. Young Nigerians are not necessarily asking for extraordinary privileges. They want opportunities to work, establish businesses, raise families and build meaningful lives without having to abandon their country. Yet, for many, emigration has become an attractive alternative to the uncertainties of remaining in Nigeria. The phenomenon commonly described as Japa is more than a migration trend; it is also a reflection of diminishing confidence in the country’s capacity to provide a sufficiently promising future. When educated, ambitious and productive young people increasingly see emigration as their best opportunity for personal advancement, the country must confront some uncomfortable questions. What does it say about our national development when young people see their future more clearly in countries thousands of miles away than in the land of their birth? A nation cannot build a prosperous future by continuously exporting its hope, talent and human capital.
Data from the Nigerian Immigration Service’s Migration Information Data Analysis System, as reported by ThisDay on December 8, 2023, indicate that approximately 3.6 million Nigerians left the country between 2022 and 2023. The International Organization for Migration (IOM) also reported that an estimated 80,000 to 85,000 Nigerians attempted the perilous journey through the desert to escape hardship, uncertainty and insecurity in Nigeria, while the Nigerian Immigration Service reported that at least 1,200 Nigerians died attempting to cross the Sahara Desert and the Mediterranean Sea within a single tracking period.
The challenge before Nigeria, therefore, is not simply to improve economic performance but to restore the belief that the country is capable of delivering a better future for its citizens. This requires a new social and political compact between government and the people. Economic reforms must become more people-centred, with growth translating into affordable food, decent employment, accessible healthcare, quality education and improved purchasing power. Government must demonstrate greater urgency in addressing insecurity, because no economic programme can succeed sustainably where citizens cannot farm, trade, travel or conduct their businesses safely. Public expenditure must reflect the priorities of ordinary Nigerians. At a time when households are making painful sacrifices, public officials must demonstrate fiscal discipline, transparency and sensitivity in the management of national resources. Above all, leadership must rediscover the importance of empathy. Citizens do not expect government to perform miracles overnight, but they expect honesty, accountability and an unmistakable commitment to improving their circumstances.
Nigeria also needs a compelling national development vision that extends beyond electoral cycles. Citizens must be able to see where the country is going, understand how government intends to get there and identify measurable improvements along the journey. National optimism cannot be manufactured through political speeches, slogans or repeated assurances that better days are coming. It must emerge from the lived experiences of citizens who can see that their circumstances are improving and that their children have a better chance of succeeding than they did. The ultimate responsibility of leadership is to transform the national mood from anxiety to confidence, from uncertainty to expectation and from despair to renewed ambition.
The deeper message in Tova Friedman’s observation is that hope is indispensable to the human experience. It is what makes the uncertainties of tomorrow bearable and gives meaning to the struggles of today. Nigeria must understand that the greatest danger of prolonged hardship is not merely the material deprivation it produces, but the psychological and emotional exhaustion it imposes on a people. There is only so much hardship a population can endure while being told that better days are coming. There is only so much sacrifice citizens can make without seeing corresponding evidence of progress. And there is only so long a nation can depend on the resilience of its people without replenishing the hope that sustains that resilience.
Nigerians are among the most resilient people in the world. They have survived wars, economic dislocations, political instability and decades of governance challenges. Their entrepreneurial spirit, ingenuity and capacity to adapt remain extraordinary national assets. The ability of Nigerians to survive difficult circumstances does not absolve leadership of its responsibility to create better circumstances. A government should not merely ask its citizens to believe in tomorrow; it must give them compelling reasons to do so.
The ultimate test of leadership is not how eloquently it explains the difficulties of today, but how convincingly it inspires confidence in tomorrow. Nigeria needs more than economic recovery. It needs a restoration of national hope. It needs leadership that can transform the anxiety of survival into the confidence of opportunity, the frustration of the present into the promise of the future, and the resilience of its people into a collective belief that their best days are still ahead.
Essentially, a nation cannot indefinitely ask its people to believe in tomorrow when the realities of today continually undermine that belief. The question, therefore, is no longer whether Nigerians desire hope, but whether those entrusted with leadership can give them a reason for optimism. The danger is that when citizens lose the capacity to dream about tomorrow, the country has begun to lose something far more valuable than economic prosperity. It has begun to lose its soul.
Hope is what makes people wake up in the morning believing that tomorrow will be better than yesterday. When that belief begins to disappear, a nation faces a crisis that goes beyond economics and politics. It faces a crisis of confidence and a contradiction in its ability to articulate its own future. Hope must cease to be a political slogan and become a lived reality and an article of faith for Nigerians. The present leadership could still inspire hope.
