OUR economic discourse obsessively tracks GDP figures but fails to analyse the standard of living in real terms. Similarly, we pay very little attention to the average Nigerian’s emotional wellbeing in a system where it is virtually impossible to achieve anything without a high level of resources or connections. We talk about attracting foreign direct investment but fail to analyse why it doesn’t seem to have an impact on the lives of ordinary people.

Nigerian culture could be our greatest export, it could also be a way to positively engage communities in telling their own stories through the creative use of mass media

I recently saw a documentary exploring the rise of Alexandria Occasio-Cortez (a 28 year old congresswoman) as well as other candidates who ran for Senate or House of Representatives positions during the 2018 United States elections.

IN conversations with the Nigerian elite, one is sure to hear complaints about the constant calls and appeals they receive from less well-off friends, family or even strangers asking for help with this or that urgent matter.

The system is rigged against the average Nigerian. By saying this, one runs the risk of being labeled a populist. Yet, many of the states where violence and insecurity occur in Nigeria often have the highest poverty indices or the most job losses.

ALL manner of “activists” crawl out of the woodworks to make vague, empty statements (and this isn’t to say they don’t have a right to criticize government’s performance) but one wonders where many of these new voices were when things truly started to fall apart. It’s easy for the middle-class to join the bandwagon and cry out in alarm over the insecurity and violence in Nigeria, the state of the economy, etc. But the reality is today’s armchair activists either did not have the intellectual depth to realise (and therefore oppose) Nigeria’s gradual shift from production to consumption, or they benefitted in no small measure from a said move which also came with state-sponsored benefits and patronage for a small elite.

According to the World Bank, the Nigerian economy has been “slipping” since 1995. Interestingly, a majority of newspapers chose the headline “Nigeria’s economy slips” which mischievously tells a vastly different story from the World Bank’s original submission. Recently, Bloomberg published an editorial telling President Muhammadu Buhari to focus on economic growth in his second term. That statement appears logical until one begins to question what sort of growth pundits refer to.

OUR fundamental problem in Nigeria isn’t the quality of our elections, our problem lies at the heart of our understanding of democracy: up until recently, we had no institutionalized forms of welfare or commitment to equality and social justice.

When will Nigerians be rid of politicians without ideology, who simply go from appointment to appointment, or from party to party, producing nothing, leaving no impact yet expecting to survive at all cost? Beyond our obsession over the “low voter turnout,” these are the questions we should be asking ourselves.

A NUMBER of analysts and gender activists bemoan the low number of female political representatives in Nigeria (only six women won or retained their Senate seats in the just concluded 2019 general elections). However, beyond this appalling statistic, I am more concerned by the policies senators champion, no matter their gender.