WHAT are the lessons you have learned so far in your short span as a politician?
First, although politics should be about improving citizens’ lives, that is not always the case in Nigeria. Many participants are driven by personal or narrow interests.
Second, money plays a decisive role. Political success is often determined by financial capacity or sponsorship. Even at the level of party primaries, the highest bidder typically wins. The 2023 general election offered some exceptions through the Obidient Movement, where some candidates succeeded in winning elections to represent their constituencies at the National Assembly without heavy spending, but those cases remain limited.
Third, truthfulness is often compromised. While there are exceptions, many politicians do not uphold the values they publicly profess.
However, there are also examples of good governance. In Abia State, Governor Alex Otti is making a difference. He is investing in infrastructure, education, and public services. One key factor is that he does not appear to be heavily burdened by political godfathers. That allows him to use public resources more effectively for the people rather than servicing political obligations.
That model should be replicated. We need technocrats-people with proven competence-who can deliver results in governance.
What concrete steps can move Nigeria from its current preoccupation with multiethnic nationalities towards a sense of nationhood?
Unity is essential for development. Nigerians are hardworking and resilient, but leadership must harness these qualities and create a shared sense of identity.
If given the opportunity to lead, I would begin with a period of national reflection-possibly a week of prayer and fasting-because we have serious challenges and need collective introspection.
After that, I would ensure inclusive governance through balanced appointments across geopolitical zones.
I would also convene a constituent assembly made up of representatives from Nigeria’s ethnic groups-whether 250 or 300. They could meet in neutral locations such as Obudu Cattle Ranch or Yankari Game Reserve to deliberate freely.
Their mandate would be to answer fundamental questions: Do we want to remain one country? If yes, under what kind of constitution? If not, what peaceful arrangements can be made?
The idea that Nigeria’s unity is ‘non-negotiable’ should not prevent honest dialogue. People should have a voice in determining how they are governed.
Vote-buying is becoming part and parcel of elections in Nigeria. What would it take to break the monetisation cycle, given that poverty drives vote-buying?
We must address the problem from its roots-starting with party primaries. If candidates emerge through transparent and credible processes, the influence of money will reduce.
Leadership is also critical. When leaders refuse to engage in vote-buying and enforce rules, others will follow. At present, the system often enables and even encourages it.
Given the experience Nigerians are going through at the moment, where do you see the country in the next 10 or 20 years?
I see this from two perspectives-economic and political. Economically, Nigeria appears to be moving in the right direction through reforms such as deregulation. These reforms can reduce distortions, discourage rent-seeking, and encourage productivity.
As the Nigerian Economic Summit Group (NESG) chairman, our proposition for many years has been to deregulate the economy, so that we can reward hard work and stop corruption. In the past, people made money through round tripping in foreign exchange or fuel subsidies. That is not possible today.
However, these reforms come with pain and must be matched by fiscal discipline. Government spending must align with revenue. We must reduce waste, tackle corruption, and ensure value for money. More resources should benefit citizens rather than sustaining the political class.
If we sustain these reforms and manage resources prudently, Nigeria could see increased investment, improved revenue, and reduced borrowing over time.
Politically, however, the outlook is less certain. If the current trends continue, Nigeria risks becoming a one-party state, thereby weakening democratic competition and accountability.
For Nigeria to achieve its potential in the next 10 to 20 years, economic reforms must be complemented by political reforms-stronger institutions, credible elections, and leadership committed to national interest.
Only then can the country translate its vast human and natural resources into real development.
In what way did your encounter with an elderly American in 1986 affect your life or shape your worldview? You attended a conference in America, and he asked you why Nigeria is always in the news for the wrong reasons, despite its high educational standards and a pool of very smart people.
The Christian worldview has always dominated my life. I grew up as someone who loves his nation and respects constituted authority. One of the things we are taught is order, hierarchy, and obedience to authority. As a Christian, you are compelled to pray for your nation and your leaders-whether they are good or bad. I also believe strongly that God created each of us with a purpose: to join Him as co-creators, to solve problems, and to continue the good work He began by deploying the wisdom and power He has placed in us.
That belief drives me. Whatever I do, I try to do it as if I am doing it for God, not for men. I do not distinguish between small and big assignments; I take every responsibility seriously.
By the time I attended that conference in the United States in 1986, I was the Group Sales Manager for Pfizer. Within five to six years, I had risen from entry-level to senior management because I was determined to give my best at all times. At that conference, I performed very well and was eventually nominated as the best-performing sales manager among participants from 106 countries.
After the event, an elderly American congratulated me and asked where I studied. I said the University of Ife. He asked, ‘University of where?’ I repeated, ‘University of Ife, in Nigeria.’ He seemed surprised and asked whether Nigeria had good universities. I told him we had many and began to name them. He then said, ‘If you have such universities and someone like you, then there must be many smart people in Nigeria.’ I replied that there were millions.
Then he asked a question that changed my thinking: ‘Why is your country the way it is?’
That question stayed with me. For the first time, I became conscious of the gap between where I was coming from and what I had just experienced.
When I returned to Nigeria and landed at Murtala Muhammed Airport, the contrast hit me immediately. The heat, the poor infrastructure, the dirty toilets with no water, the inability to flush, and the litter scattered around-all these were things I had seen before but taken for granted. The arrival hall was over-crowded, passengers packed tightly, people jostling. I waited about an hour for my luggage on a wobbly conveyor belt. Outside, taxi drivers crowded around, each trying to outdo the other.
In contrast, in the United States or Europe, systems were organised. By the time you reached the baggage hall, your luggage was already there. You exited smoothly and got a taxi without stress.
That experience changed my perspective. I realised that Nigeria cannot remain this way. If we have good universities and intelligent people, then something is fundamentally wrong with how we organise ourselves. I concluded that we must take responsibility for improving our country.
I began to believe that change may not be a one-day or one-man job, but if each person improves their immediate environment, the country will improve. At the Lagos Business School, we talk about building ‘an oasis of sanity’ around us. If many people build such oases, they can eventually merge into something bigger-a force that transforms the nation.
That encounter made me reject mediocrity and inspired my vision of a ‘new Nigeria’-a country that competes with the rest of the world and reflects its true potential.
The most defining moment of your corporate experience came in 1997 when Pfizer International reduced its Nigerian operations, and you became CEO of Neimeth International almost overnight. In what way did the difficulties you experienced initially shape your ideas about leadership?
That period was a major training ground for me. When things are normal, learning is limited. It is when storms come that leadership is tested and refined.
Before 1997, as CEO of Pfizer Nigeria and Regional Manager for West Africa, operations were stable. Funding was readily available. If we needed money, Pfizer International would arrange it through banks, and we didn’t have to worry about the terms or structure.
But after the management buyout on May 14, everything changed. We had to raise about $300 million. I was asked to lead the process, but I personally had very little capital-perhaps about $20,000 at most. Convincing banks and stakeholders became a major challenge.
Once Pfizer exited, the company became a third-party entity, and banks became cautious. The company could have collapsed if all the banks had called in their loans. However, because of the goodwill we had built, some banks were willing to take a risk.
Still, the burden was enormous. We had multiple loans-both operational and those used to acquire shares. We initially performed well and even paid dividends in the first two years. But by the third year, we recorded losses, and the situation became difficult.
That period forced me to learn financial engineering, frugality, and resilience. I learned how to manage scarce resources and make tough decisions. There were times we delayed salaries to clear goods at the port because if production stopped, the company would collapse.
I also learned the importance of sharing leadership. Initially, I was both Chairman and CEO, carrying too much responsibility. When it became overwhelming, I relinquished the chairmanship to someone else. That decision strengthened the organisation.
The experience improved my managerial and leadership capacity significantly. Without going through those stormy waters, I might never have developed the depth of leadership I eventually attained.
At what point did you realise that your advocacy through NESG, Vision 2010, Vision 2020, and as a columnist was not making much impact, and that you must enter politics to effect change?
My journey into advocacy began after a difficult year when my company recorded losses. Until then, I had succeeded consistently, so the experience was unsettling. Later, I discovered that many companies also recorded losses-it was a recession. That made me realise that no business can outperform its environment indefinitely.
That insight drew me into advocacy through platforms like NESG, NECA, and my column writing.
However, a turning point came when former President Muhammadu Buhari removed the Chief Justice of Nigeria, Walter Onnoghen. To me, it raised fundamental constitutional concerns. How can one arm of government act against another in that manner?
I wrote an article titled ‘To your tent, O Israel,’ but I chose not to publish it because I felt it might worsen tensions. That was when I stopped writing and began to reconsider my approach.