In the vast landscape of public policy and governance, Nigeria’s trajectory can be compared to that of a tree—a tree with deep roots, branches stretching high, and fruits that symbolise the outcomes of the policies it produces. However, while this tree should provide nourishment to its people, it too often yields bitter, unripe fruits or none at all. At first glance, the fruits may appear to be a result of poor caretaking—the failure to water, prune, or nurture the tree. Yet, upon closer inspection, the real problem lies deeper, buried in the soil and root system. Nigeria’s challenge is not one of implementation, but of poor planning, misguided priorities, and deep-seated systemic weaknesses.
The roots of this metaphorical tree are the foundation upon which policies are built. Healthy roots absorb nutrients from the soil, ensuring the tree’s growth. In Nigeria’s case, the root system is riddled with issues stemming from what Matt Andrews terms “premature load-bearing.” This concept highlights the overburdening of weak institutions with the responsibility to deliver high expectations despite their incapacity to do so. Just as a sapling cannot bear the weight of a full-grown tree’s fruits, weak Nigerian institutions are often expected to perform at levels far beyond their capabilities. For instance, Nigeria’s power sector reforms, spanning decades, have consistently been hailed as grand plans to revitalise the country’s electricity supply. Yet, each attempt has been undermined by the fragile institutions tasked with executing these plans. Premature load-bearing has led to a cycle of failed reforms, as institutions unable to shoulder the responsibilities collapse under the pressure, leaving Nigerians in perennial darkness.
At the heart of this problem is a deeper systemic flaw, captured by the concept of “isomorphic mimicry.” This is where Nigeria, in its bid to modernise, adopts the outward forms of successful institutions and practices from other nations without addressing the local context and capacity. Like a tree planted in unsuitable soil, the policies look robust on the surface but fail to take root. Nigeria’s adoption of various Western models of governance and economic management provides stark examples. Take the Nigerian Sovereign Investment Authority (NSIA), modeled after Norway’s Sovereign Wealth Fund. While the idea of managing oil revenue to secure future generations is sound, the institution has been hamstrung by local political dynamics, inadequate institutional capacity, and corruption. The outward structure mimics successful models, but the internal workings are plagued by Nigeria’s unique challenges, leading to suboptimal outcomes.
Branches, like the institutions responsible for policy delivery, are meant to support the fruits and connect them to the roots. However, if the branches are weak or disconnected from the roots, the fruits will fall or never grow. In Nigeria, many policies are disconnected from the reality of the country’s capabilities and the needs of its people. There is a persistent issue with what Shamsuddeen Usman, Nigeria’s former Minister of National Planning, referred to as “agent interest.” This refers to the vested interests of those in power—bureaucrats, politicians, and influential elites—who often have more to gain from the process of policy-making than from its actual success. This disconnect between the planners and the populace has left Nigeria with a bloated and inefficient public sector, where the focus remains on crafting policies that look good on paper but have little impact on the ground.
A prime example is Nigeria’s Vision 2020, an ambitious plan which set out to make Nigeria one of the world’s top 20 economies by 2020. The plan had all the hallmarks of a well-thought-out policy document, with targets for economic growth, infrastructure development, and poverty reduction. However, despite the glossy presentation, the policy was little more than a wish list, disconnected from the realities of the country’s political and institutional capacities. Agent interest played a significant role here—those in charge of implementing the plan often benefited more from the planning process itself, through contracts, commissions, and bureaucratic promotions, than they did from the successful realisation of the policy’s goals.
Another branch of the tree—the diagnosis of problems before the crafting of solutions—is often skipped in Nigerian policy-making. Dani Rodrik, an influential development economist, emphasises the importance of diagnosing the actual root cause of problems before prescribing solutions. This step is often ignored in Nigeria, where policies are prescribed without a clear understanding of the underlying issues. This failure to properly diagnose has led to a cycle of recurring problems, where policies fail because they do not address the real issues at hand. The country’s response to its perennial fuel shortages is a classic example. Successive governments have thrown subsidies, deregulation, and privatisation at the problem without addressing the fundamental issues of refining capacity, distribution infrastructure, and regulatory inefficiencies. The result? Continued scarcity, inflated prices, and recurring protests. The government focused on the symptoms of the problem—price fluctuations and public discontent—without digging deep into the systemic issues, much like trying to save a diseased tree by simply trimming its leaves.
The fruits of Nigerian policy-making—the tangible results—are thus often stunted or non-existent. Failed agricultural policies, for instance, have left the nation, which once had the potential to be a food basket for Africa, dependent on imports for basic food items like rice and wheat. Despite several agricultural initiatives, including Operation Feed the Nation in the 1970s and the more recent Agricultural Transformation Agenda, Nigeria continues to struggle with food security. The policies, while sound in concept, have suffered from poor planning, inadequate funding, and a lack of continuity across different administrations. Instead of addressing the root causes of agricultural inefficiency—such as poor infrastructure, lack of access to credit for farmers, and outdated farming techniques—these policies have often focused on grandiose projects that fail to take root.
The failure of Nigeria’s educational policies offers another bitter fruit. Despite the establishment of numerous education reforms and policies aimed at improving the quality of learning, the reality on the ground is dismal. Public schools remain underfunded, teachers are poorly trained, and the infrastructure is crumbling. The Universal Basic Education (UBE) program, launched in 1999 to ensure free and compulsory education for all Nigerian children, has failed to achieve its goals due to poor planning, corruption, and a lack of proper oversight. The program’s implementation focused more on expanding enrollment numbers without addressing the quality of education, leaving Nigeria with millions of children in school but receiving an education that does little to equip them for the future.
The poor planning of policies also reflects the broader challenge of Nigeria’s weak state capability. Just as a tree needs strong roots, branches, and healthy soil to grow, Nigeria needs capable institutions, properly trained personnel, and realistic policy frameworks to thrive. When policies are rushed or designed without a thorough understanding of the existing capacities of the institutions meant to implement them, they are doomed to fail. Policies need to be aligned with the capabilities of the state, not built on unrealistic expectations or superficial imitations of foreign models. Nigeria’s public health sector is a glaring example. The country has adopted several international health programs aimed at improving maternal and child health, yet the weak institutional capacity of the ministry of health, coupled with poor infrastructure and inadequate funding, has meant that these programs have often failed to deliver the desired results.
Nigeria’s problem is not merely one of implementation but of foundational weakness in the very roots of its policy-making tree. Without proper diagnosis, planning, and the strengthening of institutions, the fruits of Nigeria’s policies will continue to be stunted, leaving its people to grapple with the consequences of poor governance. As the nation moves forward, it must focus on strengthening its roots—building institutional capacity, aligning policies with reality, and ensuring that those in charge are working in the interest of the people, not just their own. Only then will the tree of Nigerian governance bear fruits that truly nourish its people.
