By Fr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Amos, Ph.D.
Diplomacy has its place. Symbolism has its value. But there comes a time when the loudest diplomatic gesture is still quieter than meaningful governance. Nigeria’s refusal to receive South Africa’s envoys may satisfy public anger for a moment, but history will remember something far more consequential: whether this tragedy became the catalyst for rebuilding Nigeria into a country from which no citizen is desperate to flee.
For years, Nigerians have stood among the principal victims of South Africa’s recurring waves of xenophobic and Afrophobic violence. Their shops have been looted, their homes torched, their businesses razed, their dignity assaulted, and, tragically, many have paid the ultimate price with their lives. Diplomatically, governments speak of attacks on “foreign nationals.” Reality, however, tells a more uncomfortable story. Nigerians have repeatedly found themselves at the epicentre of these attacks. Recent violence has forced nearly 1,500 Nigerians to be evacuated from South Africa, while both governments continue emergency diplomatic engagements to contain the crisis.
Every decent conscience must condemn these attacks without qualification. No grievance, economic frustration or political rhetoric can justify hunting down another African because of his nationality. Xenophobia is a betrayal of the African dream. It is an assault not merely on individuals but on the very spirit of Pan-African solidarity. Yet, amid our justified outrage, another question refuses to go away: Why do Nigerians keep leaving Nigeria?
They do not cross thousands of kilometres because Johannesburg has finer weather than Jos or because Cape Town’s skyline is more beautiful than Calabar’s coastline. They migrate because they believe there is greater security for life, stronger protection for investments, and a more predictable business environment. Contrary to popular stereotypes, Nigerians are among the most industrious people on earth. Across Africa, Europe, America and Asia, they have built thriving businesses, founded industries, excelled in medicine, engineering, academia and technology, and transformed communities through sheer enterprise. Laziness has never been Nigeria’s problem.
Back home, however, insecurity has become a relentless predator. Banditry stalks highways. Kidnapping has become an organised economy. Farmers abandon fertile lands. Investors hesitate. Entrepreneurs spend fortunes protecting themselves instead of expanding businesses. The greatest export of Nigeria today is not crude oil but human potential.
Yesterday, Fr. Kevin Anetor argued that President Bola Tinubu should resign. Many considered the statement excessive. Whether one agrees with him or not is another matter entirely. But his frustration reflects a growing national exhaustion. St. Thomas Aquinas reminds us that “he who does not oppose evil when he can becomes a participant in it.” While the quotation is often paraphrased, its moral force remains unmistakable. A government exists principally to secure life and the common good. When citizens increasingly measure survival by luck rather than law, leadership must ask itself difficult questions.
This is the same Nigeria that once stood as Africa’s foremost peacekeeping nation. From Liberia to Sierra Leone, from Chad to Sudan, Nigerian soldiers carried enormous burdens in pursuit of continental stability. Our diplomacy commanded respect. Our passport carried prestige. Our economy inspired hope. What happened?
Many Nigerians now confront an irony almost too painful to describe. Appeals that “Nigeria helped liberate South Africa from apartheid” are emotionally compelling, but they cannot be our strongest argument. We did not support South Africa’s freedom struggle so that Nigerians would someday relocate permanently to South Africa. We supported freedom because oppression is evil.
The deeper tragedy is this: countless Nigerians facing hostility abroad still hesitate to return home. Imagine preferring uncertainty in a foreign land over the certainty of insecurity in your homeland. Imagine believing that remaining in a place where mobs threaten your life is somehow safer than returning to a country where kidnappers patrol highways, where entire communities sleep with one eye open, and where too many families pray every day simply to return home alive. When a citizen fears home more than exile, patriotism has been wounded at its deepest point.
Rejecting South Africa’s envoys may generate headlines. Rebuilding Nigeria would generate history. The most devastating reply to xenophobia would not be another diplomatic protest. It would be transforming Nigeria into the destination every Nigerian proudly returns to.
Imagine a Nigeria where security is guaranteed, where electricity powers industries instead of generators, where roads unite markets instead of destroying vehicles, where merit triumphs over mediocrity, where young graduates build companies instead of visa applications, and where investors compete to enter rather than citizens competing to leave.
We possess every natural advantage a nation could desire: over 220 million energetic citizens; some of the world’s largest reserves of oil and gas; vast deposits of gold, lithium, limestone, iron ore and other strategic minerals; millions of hectares of fertile agricultural land; an enormous domestic market; and one of Africa’s most dynamic entrepreneurial populations. The challenge has never been scarcity of resources. The challenge has been scarcity of purposeful governance.
UAE did not become a global destination because it possessed more natural resources than Nigeria. Singapore did not become an economic miracle because it enjoyed greater geographical advantages. Rwanda’s remarkable recovery was not built upon superior mineral wealth. Nations rise when leadership chooses competence over complacency, vision over improvisation, and institutions over personalities. Good governance is not an accident. Neither is bad governance. Both are choices, and every choice can be reversed.
The greatest response to South Africa is not diplomatic theatre. It is national transformation. Let “Renewed Hope” become more than a slogan. Let “A New Nigeria Is Possible” become more than campaign poetry. Let us build a Nigeria whose airports welcome returning citizens instead of bidding farewell to departing dreams. Let us build a Nigeria where no parent prays that their child finds another country to survive. Let us build a Nigeria that commands respect not because it protests injustice abroad, but because it has defeated injustice at home.
South Africa must protect every Nigerian within its borders and prosecute every perpetrator of xenophobic violence without hesitation. That is non-negotiable. But Nigeria owes her citizens something equally sacred: a country worth coming home to. Rejecting South Africa’s envoys is symbolic; fixing Nigeria is statesmanship.
Fr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Amos, Ph.D.
Priest, Communication Scholar, and Public Affairs Commentator.
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