Opinion
Internal Colonialism In The Niger Delta?
The heartless, irascible child who keeps his mother awake all night long will himself not know sleep throughout the night. Yoruba proverb. In all the essential details, the Niger Delta in the last half of a century since Nigeria became one of the big oil exporting nations of the world remarkably resembles the Portuguese ad Belgian colonial possession in Africa in the heyday of Western imperial domination of our continent; in particular, the Niger Delta most especially resembles the then called Belgian Congo. Compared to the French and British colonies, in these Portuguese and Belgian colonies, Africans were far more exploited, far more arrogantly and brutally governed. In the economic sphere, the colonial territory was literally and effectively mined for all its most highly valued natural resources and nothing much was put back to develop there land and the people to whom it historically belonged. In fact, in most cases, the land and the peoples I these Portuguese and Belgian colonies were left far worse by the super-exploitation of the colonizers than they had been before the arrival of the colonial overlords and their mining and trading companies. In the political sphere, the kinds and levels of self-governance and self-rule that the British and the French gradually introduced in their colonies were near absent in the Portuguese and Belgian colonies; the only kind of self-rule that was tolerated was any kind that could make the exploitation of the land, the resources and the people more effective, more profitable for there colonizer. Any Nigerian who does not know that these are the same sort of things that have been happening in our Niger Delta in the last fifty years is grossly and tragically uninformed. In the last fifty years since oil prospecting in the Niger Delta not only became big time oil exportation but also became overwhelmingly the country’s main source of revenue, physical and environmental degradation of the region has risen to levels unknown in any other apart of the planet: much of the land laid to waste and made less and less available for arable farming; the waters and the air polluted; the villages, towns and cities made some of the rosst areas for infrastructures, employment opportunities and security of life and possessions in our country. And with regard to the sphere of political empowerment, since Nigeria struck it rich through the oil extracted from the region, the Niger Delta has remained one of the most marginal areas of the country in terms of effective distribution of power and influence within the nation’s political class. In some other aspects, our Niger Delta is also comparable to another colonial experience in Africa of the long night of the colonization of our continent, that of the so-called Bantustans of South Africa I the period of apartheid control of Black South Africans by the White minority Afrikaner and English communities. These Bantustans were the poorest areas of South Africa, with little or no infrastructures, little or no employment opportunities, little or no access to the economic and political centers of the national territory. Of course nothing like the forcible control of movement into and out of the Bantustans that the Whites imposed on Blacks in apartheid South Africa exist in the case of our Niger Delta, but there is a clear similarity, in each of these two cases, in the fact of severe economic, material impoverishment compared tot eh rest of the country. Considering all these details and realities of the shocking similarities of the Niger Delta to the worst cases of Western colonial exploitation and domination of Africa, it would seem both reasonable and justifiable that many individuals and organizations that are struggling for the just cause of the Niger Delta should –as they have done and no doubt will continue to do – use the term internal colonialism to describe the tragic experience of the region in the last fifty years. Which is why it is very surprising that many knowledgeable and progressive Nigerians from other parts of the country have either been indifferent or even hostile to the use of the term “colonialism” both to describe what has been happening in the Niger Delta in the last fifty years and to mobilize action to end it. What is implied, what is at stake in this indifference to or refusal of the term “internal colonialism” with regard to the Niger Delta, especially now that the region is in the explosive, violent epicenter of the nation’s struggles to come to terms with our crippling endemic political and economic crises and problems? How far, and with usefulness will comparisons between the Niger Delta and the worst cases of Western colonialisation of our continent take us? These are the questions I wish to address in a series of essays over the next few weeks in this column. I personally think the use of the term, together with the comparisons it enables with all those cases of Portuguese, Belgian and Afrikaner colonial possessions and practices in Africa re very, very helpful in that many things that are otherwise extremely baffling, extremely strange in the politics and economy of our country become comprehensible and therefore hopefully more amenable to progressive change once we clarify the grounds of the comparison. But I am mindful of the fact that, for many reasons, many Nigerians would find the comparison unacceptable. Since I believe that much is at stake and much will be gained if the issues involved in this comparison are clarified, it is with great seriousness and objectivity that I will explore some of the reasons for the refusal of, or the indifference to the use of the term “internal colonialism” with regard to the Niger Delta. Colonization, whether it is “internal”, external, or “neo” – as in neocolonialism – has been one of the most persistent and tragic economic, political and cultural means of domination in the modern history of hteneire planet in all its constitutive hemispheric regions in other words, colonization provides much of the explanation for why some nations and peoples became “developed” and “advanced” while others became “underdeveloped” and “backward” in the course modern political and economic history, Colonialism achieved its “classical” or prototypical form during the period of Western imperialist domination of the world, an age that is now clearly and effectively over, even if its ramifications and legacies are still very much with us. With the passing of that age, it has become far less easy or even logical to invoke the term “colonialism” in cases which seem to reproduce some of the essential or prototypical features in contexts other than Western domination of non-Western parts of the world as in the case of the Hutus and the Tutsis in Burundi and Rwanda, Darfur and in Sudan – and the Niger Delta in Nigeria. In next week’s column, I shall directly address some of the reasons why many Nigerians especially self-identified Nigerians, would be indifferent or hostile to the use of the term “internal colonialism” with regard to the Niger Delta. But for now, let me conclude this week’s essay with some observations on why the comparison is helpful and hwy therefore all progressive Nigerians should at least pay some attention to it. These are preliminary observations that I will give further elaboration and clarification in the course of the series. The over-centralised state, with its seat of ower in the almighty presidency in Aso Rock, is possible at all because of the super-exploitation of the Niger Delta. If this super-exploitation of this particular region ends, the over-centralised state which is so resistant to true federalism will not last one year, at the most. The over-concentration of wealth in a few hands in our country, one of the most extreme, obscene and unproductive in the world, is also dependent on the super-exploitation of the Niger Delta. How all this relates to the issue of internal colonialism will be the subject of next week’s column, together with all the objections of the comparison of the Niger Delta crises to all those abominable cases of Western colonialism at its very worst on our continent. Biodun Jeyifo
The world emptied at the Vatican City, Rome, Italy last week for the burial of late Pope Francis, the head of the Catholic Church worldwide who died on April 21. Foreign delegates from 164 countries attended the funeral. Among them were the President of the Nigeria’s Senate, Godswill Akpabio, the Minister of State for Foreign Affairs, Bianca Ojukwu, the Catholic Bishop of Sokoto Diocese, Hassan Kuka and other politicians, who were there on behalf of President Bola Tinubu and the entire nation.
Right from the day the Pontiff passed on, through the days preceding his burial, till the day his corpse was laid to rest and uptill now, a lot has been spoken about his great leadership qualities which stood him out among many other leaders in the world.
Some say that in a world increasingly defined by power struggles, materialism, and political division, Pope Francis stood as a rare symbol of humility and selflessness. Since his election in 2013, he redefined what it meant to lead not just a church, but a global moral community. More than just a spiritual figure, Pope Francis was a powerful voice for the voiceless, championing compassion, justice, and mercy.
Others say that from the very beginning of his papacy, Jorge Mario Bergoglio—Pope Francis—made clear that he intended to chart a different course. Choosing to live in the modest Vatican guesthouse rather than the opulent Apostolic Palace, he signaled that his papacy would not be about grandeur. He traded the red papal shoes for simple black ones, and when he was introduced to the world, he asked the crowd to pray for him before offering his own blessing. These symbolic acts spoke volumes about the kind of leader he aspired to be.
Perhaps, the most talked about quality of the cherished leader was his humility. In him, humility was not theoretical but practical. He repeatedly called for a “poor Church for the poor,” aligning the Catholic Church more closely with the needs of the marginalized. Whether washing the feet of prisoners on Holy Thursday or visiting refugee camps, Pope Francis embodied a theology that demands solidarity with the suffering.
Equally mentioned was his selflessness in the face of complex global challenges. He did not shy away from controversial topics—climate change, economic inequality, migration, and even internal Church reform. His encyclical Laudato Si’ challenged both political and economic leaders to treat the planet with reverence, not exploitation. He advocated for inclusive dialogue, calling on governments to welcome migrants as fellow human beings, not burdens.
The passing of Pope Francis indeed marked the end of an era defined by humility, moral clarity, and an unwavering commitment to justice.
nd the question for Nigerian leaders both those present at his funeral and those that couldn’t be there, both political, religious and traditional leaders and indeed all Nigerians is, what lessons can the country learn from the life of the Pontiff? How can we embrace his lifestyle to transform our national fabric?
Pope Francis showed the world that true leadership is rooted in service, not in pomp or power. He declined the luxuries of the papal palace and chose to live among the people. Our leaders, notorious for their obsession with opulence and entitlement, must learn that leadership is not about status symbols—convoys, sirens, and security details—but about responding to the needs of the people with empathy and action.
In a country where public officials often equate success with extravagance, the lifestyle of Pope Francis should teach us that simplicity does not diminish influence. He wore modest clothing, drove a humble car, and redirected attention away from himself and toward the marginalized. Even at death, his coffin was made of simple wood. If our leaders, contractors, heads of institutions and others can practice such simplicity, certainly more resources will be available for education, health, and infrastructure. Nigerians will stop dying of hunger because there will be enough money to invest in farming and other agricultural activities.
Pope Francis was a champion of the poor, migrants, and the forgotten. He spoke boldly against exclusion, even within the Church. As a matter of fact, many Catholics, particularly the divorced and the civilly remarried who could not receive communion, started receiving communion. A close childhood friend of mine belongs to this group. After her first marriage crashed, she remarried but could no longer receive communion until Pope Francis’s Amoris Laettia (The Joy of Love) document of April 8, 2016, began to reshape in our local parishes.
Ours is a deeply divided nation—ethnically, religiously, and politically. Our leaders must rise above sectional interests to promote inclusion, heal old wounds, and govern with the common good in mind. The practice of one law for one tribe or a particular section of the country and other for others should be jettisoned.
Expectedly, Pope Francis’s papacy was not without challenges. Scandals within the Church, resistance from conservative factions, and geopolitical tensions tested his resolve. Some critics even said that his positions were too progressive, even disruptive. Yet even in the face of criticism, he maintains a posture of listening, forgiveness, and dialogue. He did not back down from calling out injustice, environmental degradation, or corruption.
Nigerian leaders should stop prioritizing personal survival over national progress. Currently there is a defection wave going on in the country. Political leaders are dumping the political parties under which they were elected by the people to join other political parties. How do their actions benefit the people that elected them? Some Nigerians for tribal reasons and political profiteering will choose to keep mum in the face of injustice against their fellow citizens. Just as Pope Francis, speaking and acting against injustice—no matter the cost—should be the standard, not the exception if Nigeria must move forward as a united entity.
Another striking attribute of Pope Francis was his ability to listen, dialogue and foster peace. He was a bridge-builder. He engaged atheists, Muslims, and people of all cultures in meaningful dialogue all geared towards peace in the world. In a country as diverse as Nigeria, listening to opposing views and working toward peaceful coexistence should be second nature to our leaders, not an afterthought.
Nigeria will be a better, more progressive country if both the leaders and the led realize that everybody cannot be on the same side of a bargain. Dissenting voices must always be there. Diverse opinions must exist. The ability to tolerate these views and accommodate the opponents is one of the great qualities of a good leader. That, too, is a form of humility—not weakness, but the strength to lead with openness and grace.
Francis never forgot that he was accountable not just to the Church, but to God and humanity. Nigerian leaders, especially those who publicly profess faith, must internalize the idea that leadership is a sacred trust. Governance should reflect conscience and character, not just calculation and convenience.
Pope Francis’s message was simple yet radical: to be truly great, one must serve. In this, he channeled not only the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi, whose name he bore, but also the core teachings of the Gospel. He brought the Catholic Church closer to the people—not by changing doctrine, but by changing tone. His humility was not performative; it was deeply woven into his actions, his words, and his witness.
In honoring the legacy of Pope Francis, Nigerians—leaders and citizens alike—must embrace a new kind of leadership: one marked by humility, sacrifice, and service to others. His life reminds us that change doesn’t begin with policies alone; it begins with character.
Adieu Humble Holy Father
By; Calista Ezeaku
On April 21, as the clock struck 9 p.m., terror descended upon Desa, a tranquil town known officially as Ilesha Baruba, nestled in Kwara State’s Baruten Local Government. It’s just a few minutes away from my hometown.
“Masked in military fatigues, armed bandits shot sporadically at the town’s night market that was bustling with young men of different ethnicities having a good time and cold-bloodedly murdered eight innocent souls.
The terrorists began their rampage by brutally executing a Fulani man who was a member of the local vigilante. Multiple gunshots splattered his brains across the ground in a shockingly repellent spectacle of blood and tissue.
Five other Fulani people were gunned down. Tragically caught in the crossfire were also a Fon man from southern Benin Republic and a Baatonu native of the town.
What deepens the anguish is the apparent senselessness and inscrutability of it all. Eyewitness accounts said the assailants themselves were Fulani (based on the language they spoke). And they neither kidnapped nor stole.
Why did they kill fellow Fulani men? The Fon man and the Baatonu man appeared to be unintended targets. Was this just bloodthirsty nihilism? Did the Fulani men, who were integrated into the local community, betray the terrorists? Everyone is mystified.
Before April 21, though, the whole of Borgu had been gripped by paralyzing fears of the new terrorist group called Mahmuda. They had operated in Kebbi and Niger states and recently began to be seen in my part of Kwara State. In other words, they are now in all of what used to be collectively Borgu.
Borgu is a historic, multi-ethnic space, which comprises Baruten and Kaiama local governments in Kwara State, Borgu and Agwara local governments in Niger State, Bagudo and Dandi local governments in Kebbi State, and Borgou and Alibori departments (i.e., states) in Benin Republic.
It existed as a loose but powerful, storied, invincible, confederation of disparate kingdoms from the 1300s until the 1890s when Britain and France conquered and dismembered it.
Terrorists had been camped in the Kainji Lake National Park and in the part of Beninese portion Borgou that shares a boundary with Burkina Faso for more than a year. This year, they moved to Kaiama and parts of Yasikiru in Baruten LGA.
Efforts by residents to alert authorities initially brought hope when security forces raided terrorist hideouts and confiscated some of their weapons and equipment.
But rather than bringing relief, these actions incited vicious reprisals and transformed our communities into targets for heartrending sanguinary retaliation that spares no children, women, or the elderly.
The last week’s visit by Kwara State’s governor to Kaiama, intended as an assurance of protection, tragically became a catalyst for further bloodshed. Mere hours after his departure, terrorists punished the community with intensified violence and mercilessly murdered more innocent and helpless people.
Two days before the horrific events in Desa, ominous messages from the terrorists had spread across Baruten and Kaiama, imposing a curfew slated to begin at 10 p.m.
Yet even before it could be enforced, the terrorists struck unannounced, extinguished precious lives and spread dread.
This escalation leaves the people of Borgu in a state of disabling siege and fear. They have been robbed of the peace they once cherished.
My heart is broken beyond description. Borgu’s famed, time-honored tranquility now trembles beneath the weight of terror and grief.
The urgency for decisive, meaningful action to restore safety and peace has never been more critical.
Kperogi, a public affairs analyst, wrote in from Lagos.
By: Farooq Kperogi
Nigeria, often referred to as the “Giant of Africa”, is endowed with vast natural resources,
a large population and a youthful workforce.
Despite these advantages, the country faces persistent economic challenges, most notably high unemployment rates over the years. Successive governments remain a central issue contributing to poverty, social unrest, and underdevelopment. The economic wellbeing of a nation is significantly tied to her employment levels.
In Nigeria’s case, high unemployment has become a key driver of its poor economic performance affecting everything from productivity and income levels to crime and political instability.
Unemployment in Nigeria has assumed a multidimensional nature, characterised not just by joblessness but also underemployment, informal employment and precarious working conditions.
The Nigeria National Bureau of Statistic (NBS) said the youth with over 60 percent of Nigeria’s population under the age of 30 percent youth unemployment is a time bomb threatening the nation’s future.
Many graduates leave universities and polytechnics annually with little or no hope of securing decent jobs.
This structural unemployment is the result of a mismatch between skills and labour market needs, inadequate industrialisation, and a weak private sector.
Unemployment affects an economy in numerous direct and indirect ways.
In Nigeria, it leads to a reduced consumer base, when large sections of the population are not earning steady incomes, they have limited purchasing power which in turn affects the production and growth of businesses. Companies produce less, invest less and hire fewer people, leading to a vicious cycle of low economic growth.
Moreover, high unemployment translates to lower tax revenue for the government with fewer people paying taxes. The government has fewer resources to fund infrastructure, education, healthcare, and other public services that stimulate economic development.
This fiscal weakness forces Nigeria to rely heavily on foreign loans, which leads to rising debt levels and economic vulnerability.
Furthermore, infrastructure deficits including inadequate power supply, poor road networks and limited access to credit make it difficult for small and medium sized enterprises (SMEs) to thrive, yet SMEs are the bedrock of employment in many developed nations. Nigeria’s weak support for SMEs stifles innovation and job creation.
Another tragic consequence of high unemployment is the mass exodus of Nigerian talent to foreign countries in search of better opportunities. The brain drain weakens the country’s human capital base and deprives it of professionals who could contribute meaningfully to national development.
The “Japa” phenomenon-a slang used to describe young Nigerians fleeing the country reflects deep disillusionment with the system. Doctors, nurses, software engineers and other professionals are leaving in droves. The cost of training these individuals is absorbed by Nigeria, but their expertise benefits foreign economics. This dynamic further deepens the economic challenges as the country loses its best and brightest minds.
Addressing unemployment in Nigeria requires a multifaceted approach, first.
Secondly, industrialisation must be prioritised. The government should create an enabling environment for local manufacturing by improving infrastructure, reducing Bureaucratic bottlenecks and offering tax incentives reviving the agricultural sector with modern techniques and supply chains can also absorb a significant portion of the unemployed.
Thirdly, Governments at all levels must be held accountable for implementing job creation programmes transparently and effectively. Public-Private Partnerships (PPPs) should be encouraged to drive innovations and employment in ICT, renewable energy and logistics.
Finally, Nigeria must diversify its economy away from crude oil and invest in sectors that generate mass employment. Tourism, education, healthcare and creative industries such as film and music hold immense unlapped potential.
With genuine commitment from leaders, strong institutions and the active participation of the private sector and civil society, Nigeria can turn the tide on unemployment and chart a path toward sustainable economic prosperity.
Idorenyi, an intern with The Tide, is a student of Temple Gate Polytechnic
Abia State.
Biana Idorenyin