The term “re-identifying” may, by conventional grammatical standards, appear unusual. Yet, in the context of this discussion, it is intentional and, I would argue, appropriate. Why do we need to re-identify ourselves rather than simply identify ourselves?
The answer is simple: we are not devoid of identity; rather, we are deprived of a consistent and conscious sense of identity.

What is Identity?
We could simply agree that identity is who we are. But I would take the definition a step further: identity is the boundary of conscious ideals that defines and guides us.

These ideals are taught, implanted, formed, inherited, questioned, accepted, rejected, and picked up along the path we call life. They influence how we see ourselves, how we see others, and ultimately how we relate to the society around us.

Having established, at least in part, what identity means, and why there may be a need to re-identify our identity, we must then ask a more important question:
What is our national identity? What is the Nigerian identity? Do we have one?
I would argue that we do. However, the Nigerian identity appears to exist in fragments.

There is the ethnic fragment. There is the religious fragment. There is the political fragment. There is the individualistic fragment. These are all sub-identities that exist within the broader Nigerian identity.
But these fragments have, over time, contributed to the creation of a polarised Nigerian identity.

I use the word polarised because many Nigerians operate primarily through these individual fragments. Each fragment creates its own understanding of what it means to be Nigerian. This creates room for conflicting opinions, competing loyalties and, ultimately, division.

That division can breed distrust, resentment, hostility and an increasingly individualistic approach to nation-building rather than a collective one.

How Deep Are These Fragments? How deeply rooted are these fragments of identity?
We could simply say: deep enough. But rather than settle for a generalised statement, we decided to take a step further.
We visited Kogi, Benue and Nasarawa, not simply to sightsee, but to engage, listen and understand.

Through random street interviews, community engagements and focus group discussions, we sought to understand polarisation through the eyes of the people themselves.

We wanted to understand its causes, those most affected by it, those who may benefit from it, and—most importantly—what we can do to begin turning the tide in a nation increasingly divided along different lines.
One of the most interesting observations from these engagements was that the answers were uniquely similar.

They were similar, but not identical. People across the three states often arrived at comparable conclusions, but their understanding and experiences were shaped by their different environments.

Across the engagements, there was a recurring perception that political and ethnic elites are among the beneficiaries of a polarised Nigeria. There was also broad agreement that ethnicity, religion and politics are major drivers of polarisation.

But after listening carefully and allowing ourselves room to reflect, I would argue that underneath all three is something deeper: Identity. Think about it. 

Politics becomes the “I am APC” or “I am PDP” identity. Ethnicity becomes the “I am Nupe”, “I am Igala”, “I am Tiv”, or another ethnic identity.
Religion becomes the “I am Muslim” or “I am Christian” identity. Do you see it now? These are fragments of identity that can sometimes masquerade as the Nigerian identity.

When the Fragment Becomes the Whole
The problem may not necessarily be that we have different identities. Diversity itself is not the problem. The problem arises when a fragment becomes more important than the whole.

If ethnicity alone explains our challenges, then why is there still such a significant economic gap between rich and poor people within the same ethnic group?

If political identity alone determines our collective wellbeing, why has membership of a particular political party not translated into equal prosperity for all its members?
If religion alone is the answer, has any religious community been able to uplift the overwhelming majority of its followers from poverty and exclusion? These questions point towards something deeper. Perhaps what we have is not the absence of a Nigerian identity, but a Nigerian identity that has been fragmented and subordinated to competing identities.

Depending on where our interests or loyalties lie, one fragment becomes dominant. So, how do we re-identify these fragments?

Not necessarily by destroying them or forcing them into one uniform identity, but by allowing these identities to exist while connecting them to a stronger centre: The Nigerian identity. Re-identifying, Not Erasing
The objective should not be to erase our ethnic, religious, cultural or political identities. Rather, we should build a national identity strong enough to accommodate them. We can be Igala and Nigerian. We can be Tiv and Nigerian. We can be Muslim and Nigerian. We can be Christian and Nigerian. We can belong to the APC, PDP or another political tradition and still recognise that, beyond these affiliations, there is a larger identity that binds us together.

This is where some of the suggestions from our engagements become particularly important.

Some participants identified healthy sporting competition as an avenue for fostering cohesion. There is something powerful about the brotherhood, patriotism and sportsmanship that emerges when Nigerians gather around a national team.

For a moment, ethnic and religious boundaries can become less important. The jersey becomes a shared identity.
Others called for stronger inter-community relationships, including the revival of ideas reminiscent of initiatives such as FESTAC, where culture becomes a bridge rather than a boundary.

Some called for education. This is one suggestion I strongly agree with. But education should go beyond acquiring certificates. It should be a purposeful education connected to our roots, cultures and histories. 

Rediscovering What We Already Had
Perhaps part of our challenge is that we have lost touch with our historical and cultural roots.

Along the way, we have adopted foreign ideas, identities and systems—sometimes positively, sometimes uncritically. The problem is not that we adopted new ideas. Societies naturally evolve by learning, borrowing and adapting.

The problem is when we lose the ability to distinguish between adopting something and abandoning ourselves.

We should have the freedom to grow as a people, embrace new ideas and engage the world without losing the foundations that tell us who we are.

Consider, for example, the story of Princess Inikpi of the Igala people, who, according to oral tradition, was sacrificed alongside others during a period of conflict involving the Igala Kingdom and its adversaries.

To a contemporary audience, such a story can sound disturbing. But perhaps our responsibility is not simply to preserve such stories as historical tales. We can also interrogate them.

What can such a story teach us about gender, sacrifice, leadership, power, conflict, inclusion, human rights and the value placed on individual life?

History does not have to be worshipped or rejected. It can be examined. We can create museums, cultural centres and public spaces that educate Nigerians about the trade routes, relationships and systems of exchange that existed among communities long before British colonial rule.

Such institutions can remind us that our history did not begin with colonialism.
We existed as communities with systems of governance, commerce, culture, knowledge, spirituality, technology and an understanding of our environment.

Colonialism profoundly altered our societies, but it did not create our existence.

Building Bridges Through Institutions
Could we develop policies and institutions specifically designed to preserve, document and teach this history?

Nigeria has established institutions such as the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC) to address particular developmental needs within a defined region.

Could we similarly develop a national cultural and historical framework—one capable of bringing our past and present into a comprehensive educational system across Nigeria?

Such a system could focus on: documenting indigenous histories and oral traditions; teaching Nigerian history beyond political events; preserving cultural heritage; establishing museums and cultural parks; encouraging inter-community cultural exchanges; creating safe spaces for dialogue; promoting civic education; and teaching young Nigerians how different communities have historically interacted, traded, collaborated and lived together. The objective would not be to manufacture a single culture. It would be to build a stronger consciousness of belonging to one country while preserving the diversity that exists within it.

From Fragmented Identities to a Shared Identity
Perhaps the Nigerian identity should not be imagined as a single block. Perhaps it should be imagined as a mosaic. Each piece retains its colour, shape and history, but together they form something larger.

Our ethnic identities can remain. Our religious identities can remain. Our political identities can remain. Our cultural identities can remain. But they should not prevent us from recognising a shared Nigerian identity. That, to me, is the essence of re-identifying our identity.

It is about creating room to adopt positive identities while questioning and rejecting identities that divide, dehumanise or prevent us from seeing one another as fellow citizens. It is about recognising that the fragment is not the whole.

And perhaps, most importantly, it is about consciously rebuilding the connection between our many identities and the one national identity that binds us: The Nigerian identity. 

The Active Citizen Question 
This is not presented as a finished solution. It is a point of departure. The conversations in Kogi, Benue and Nasarawa demonstrate that Nigerians are thinking about these issues. They may use different words, draw from different experiences and arrive from different directions, but there are recurring questions about belonging, identity, history, leadership, inequality and national cohesion.
The challenge now is what we do with those conversations. Can we turn dialogue into civic action? Can we turn history into education? Can we turn cultural diversity into an opportunity for connection? Can we create spaces where Nigerians can disagree without becoming enemies? Can we build identities that are strong enough to accommodate our differences while still giving us a common sense of belonging?

These are some of the questions the Active Citizen Initiative seeks to explore. Perhaps re-identifying our identity begins with a simple realization: We do not need to become less of who we are in order to become more Nigerian.
We need to understand who we are, understand where we came from, understand one another—and consciously decide what kind of Nigerian identity we want to build together.

Chi Dika, Nations Pulse/Active Citizen Initiative, FCT, Abuja