64 & Strong-ish
From Statesmanship and Religion by Henry A. Wallace (New York: Round Table Press, 1934), pp. 137:
Yes, we do need a ‘heart trust’ even more than we need a ‘brain trust.’ But perhaps intelligence can help remove some of the fetters from the human heart. And perhaps the human heart can direct and kindle the human brain.
I’ve always believed that no one wants their country to fail, especially in its early years. So, where did things go wrong? This question has been on my mind as I’ve been reading about the founding of different African countries. It seems like many of the founding fathers started with good intentions, but why did their dreams fall short for so many nations?
People often blame the usual suspects — post-colonial interference, corruption, and so on. While these issues are definitely part of the story, it feels a bit simplistic, especially when comparing African nations to countries in Asia, many of which have faced similar post-colonial challenges. So why did some nations rise while others struggled? There must be more to it.
One thing that stands out is that most of the "founding fathers" were men. Why, you might ask? It was a different era where boys were given access to education and opportunities, while girls were expected to marry and raise children. While things have improved, it’s still an ongoing struggle to ensure women receive the same opportunities that men take for granted.
I believe future history books will feature more women as they step into leadership roles in politics, business, or wherever their passions lead them. Empowering women and girls isn’t just about fairness—it’s a strategy for success. When girls are educated and given the same opportunities as boys, they don’t just strengthen themselves; they strengthen the entire nation. They grow up to be leaders, innovators, and change-makers. They contribute to the economy, uplift their communities, and pass these values on to the next generation.
On the other hand, nations that continue to disempower women back are shooting themselves in the foot. If half of a country’s population is denied the chance to contribute, how can that nation ever continue to hit its full potential? This kind of gender inequality limits innovation, slows economic growth, and perpetuates inequality. It’s like trying to run a race with one leg tied behind your back.
And really, if a country allows cultural biases and outdated norms to persist, holding women back, then the suffering they face today and tomorrow is partly self-inflicted. You can’t move forward while dragging half the population behind. It’s not abstract mathematics, it’s just common sense.
I once read that while a politician focuses on the next election, a statesperson—whether man or woman—focuses on the next generation. A generation spans roughly 30 years, and a true statesperson thinks beyond the immediate, weighing their decisions against the long-term impact they’ll have. It’s not just about what works today but about making choices that future generations will look back on and say, “That was a great move.” Their legacy is not about personal gain but the future of the nation.
And it’s not just politicians who can be statespeople even business leaders can fill that role too. Anyone making decisions with a lasting and positive impact fits the description. Unfortunately, when we use this standard, many politicians fall short. They’re so focused on immediate gains than the bigger picture that truly benefits everyone in the long run.
One thing I’ve noticed from my reading is that animosities, vindictiveness, and self-interest within the ranks of the founding fathers in each African country are rarely mentioned as factors that contributed to derailing progress. A house divided against itself can’t stand. Even if point to post-colonial interference, the fact remains: anyone willing to accept a bribe will be bribed. And if there’s no unity, that vulnerability will be exploited. If you also don’t act like an adult, you won’t be treated as one.
A statesperson is defined by their actions, not just their words. It’s about the results—where the country was before and where it is now. If things have gotten worse, then you don’t qualify as a statesperson, because legacy is what truly sets one apart. Statespeople are unifiers; they don’t add fuel to the fire of divisiveness. Unfortunately many politicians fail in this regard.To secure votes, they often pit one group against another. Ironically, the same flames they stoke usually end up consuming them, compromising the security of the country in the process.
Too many politicians are motivated by self-interest rather than a genuine love for their country or fellow citizens. The path of a true statesperson is challenging, with constant pressures from all sides making it difficult to prioritize national interests. It often becomes a battle between a statesperson, or a small group of them, and self-serving individuals who would rather see a country burnt to the ground than lose their personal gains.
Speaking about legacy, politicians make plenty of promises during their campaigns, but once their term is over, we rarely ask them to account for what they actually accomplished. What if, right after their term ends, they had to publicly address the nation about their performance? Imagine it as a national event, broadcast on TV—or any platform that reaches a wide audience—where they explain what they did for the country.
They would break down the promises they made during their campaign and then show how much they actually delivered. And it wouldn’t just be them giving a speech. They’d have to take live questions from the audience—regular citizens who could challenge them on things that didn’t add up or question whether they really accomplished what they claimed.
It would be like the politician’s “report card,” similar to how companies hold earnings calls. Just as a CEO has to answer to shareholders, politicians would have to answer to the people. If they promised major improvements in areas like healthcare, jobs, or education, they’d have to show clear evidence of progress. And if they didn’t deliver, people could call them out right then and there on national TV.
This process, happening immediately after their term ends, would push politicians to be more accountable. They wouldn’t just disappear after their time in office; they’d have to face the nation and answer questions about their leadership. It would make them think twice about making empty promises, knowing they’d have to publicly account for them as soon as their term is up.
Would this actually work? That’s the big question, especially in countries where corruption is common. The success of this process would depend on the integrity of the system. First, you’d need a moderator who isn’t afraid to ask tough questions. They can’t just sit there and nod along. They need to be ready to push back if the politician starts spinning the truth or dodging real answers.
Then there’s the audience. Ideally, the people asking questions should be selected randomly from a list of well-informed and competent citizens. Ones who are engaged and ready to verify what the politician is saying in real-time. If the politician makes a claim that doesn’t sound right, they’d challenge it right there, even pulling up facts to support their questions. This would make the whole process more authentic and harder for politicians to get away with bending the truth or outright lying.
Of course, this also depends on how invested the country is in the process. If people don’t trust the system or think it’s just a show, then the whole thing falls apart. Citizens need to believe that their questions will be answered honestly and that the event isn’t just another political stunt.
In corrupt countries, people will naturally be skeptical. They’d probably think, “Is this just another performance?” That’s why the system has to be designed in a way that earns public trust —transparent, fair, and open to scrutiny. The whole idea only works if people can see that it’s not rigged, and that takes time and effort to build.
So, what happens if a politician is found wanting during or after the public accountability session? There have to be real consequences, or it becomes just an empty exercise. If a politician is caught lying during the process or clearly didn’t live up to their promises, it should seriously damage their reputation.
However, we all know that these days, politicians in some countries tend to bounce back from reputational damage like this. This has caused many citizens to disconnect from the political process because they believe that politicians will do whatever they want anyway, regardless of what they promise. That’s why reputational damage alone isn’t enough. It should be tied to real consequences, like barring them from ever holding office or any position of trust.
Beyond reputational damage, there should be legal or political consequences. Imagine if, as part of this process, there were independent fact-checkers or a commission that could investigate major discrepancies between what was promised and what was delivered. If a politician is found to have seriously misled the public, betrayed their trust, or failed to deliver on their mandate, they should face criminal charges.
This would put pressure on current and future leaders to act responsibly. It would create a new standard of leadership, showing everyone that there’s no easy way out once your term is done—you will have to answer for it.
If you think four or five years is too short to feel the impact of any politician, let me remind you that most of them serve two terms. A one-term politician is not really the norm these days. Beyond the public accountability session that takes place immediately after their term, we can also reassess the long-term effects of their policies a decade later.
But why do all this? Because countries need to disincentivize the malevolent and incompetent from entering the political sphere. Erasmus said it best: “It is a fine and glorious thing to govern well, but it is no less meritorious to ensure that one’s successor is not inferior: or rather, the chief responsibility of a good prince is this, to see to it that there cannot be a bad one.”
Tomorrow marks Nigeria’s Independence Day — 64 years and still standing, though a bit unsteady. Over the years, I’ve found myself swinging between hope and frustration, and lately, hope seems to linger more. I know that with time, we will find our footing. We are a resilient people with a rich culture and immense potential.
But potential alone won’t change our reality. It’s time to live up to it, to step into the future with the responsibility and maturity it demands. As I’ve said before, if we don’t act like adults, we won’t be treated like one.
With that said, I wish us all love, peace, and light as we continue this journey together.
Thanks for reading. If there's anything you'd like to chat about, or if you have any questions, feel free to shoot me an email. I'd love to hear from you. :) 🍿