From National Cake To National Duty: A Hard Call To Nigeria’s Political Class -By Isaac Asabor

Nigeria does not suffer from a shortage of talent. It suffers from a shortage of conscience in power. Across the nation’s political landscape, one finds individuals who once trained as lawyers, engineers, doctors, administrators, and soldiers; men and women whose education was funded directly or indirectly by the Nigerian people. Yet too many of these individuals have treated public office not as a trust to be honored, but as a vault to be opened. The result is a widening gulf between the governed and those who govern, between national promise and national reality.

This is not a new observation, but it remains painfully relevant. The pattern is familiar: citizens invest in education, institutions invest in training, and the country invests hope in leadership. Then, somewhere between qualification and public office, service gives way to self-interest. Nigeria becomes less a nation to be built and more a resource to be consumed. The political class rises; the public good falls.

The uncomfortable truth is that many who occupy positions of authority today have little record of professional contribution before entering politics. A number of those who studied law never built legal reputations in the courtroom. Some who trained in engineering never engineered anything of national value. Others who studied medicine abandoned healing long before they sought public office, not to talk of being a professor in the field. Still others moved into politics without ever demonstrating competence in public or private service. Yet they command enormous wealth. Citizens are left asking the obvious question: what exactly produced such prosperity?

The same concern extends into the military establishment. Nigeria has funded the education and training of officers in prestigious institutions across the world. Many rose from modest backgrounds, supported by national resources, entrusted with national security. But for some, the privilege of service became a pathway to personal accumulation rather than disciplined stewardship. When those trained at public expense return to preside over corruption, the betrayal is not merely institutional, it is moral.

This is where John F. Kennedy’s enduring challenge rings with uncomfortable clarity: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” That statement was not a poetic flourish; it was a definition of citizenship and leadership. Its relevance to Nigeria is stark. Too often, the question guiding political ambition has been reversed: what can I extract, not what can I contribute?

The consequences are visible everywhere. Infrastructure decays while budgets expand. Public institutions weaken while private fortunes grow. The wealth of a few becomes inversely proportional to the welfare of the many. This is not governance; it is extraction. It produces a parasitic relationship in which the state sustains its leaders rather than leaders sustaining the state.

To be clear, politics is not inherently corrupt. It is a noble enterprise when rooted in service. A functioning democracy requires people who are willing to sacrifice time, expertise, and comfort for collective progress. Nigeria’s tragedy is not that professionals enter politics, it is that too many enter without the intention of service. They abandon their fields without building credibility and enter public office without building accountability.

A political system dominated by personal gain inevitably breeds policy failure. When leadership is motivated by accumulation rather than transformation, development becomes incidental. Roads are built where contracts are profitable, not where mobility is essential. Projects are initiated for visibility, not sustainability. Institutions are weakened because strong institutions limit personal control. The long-term interest of the nation is consistently traded for short-term advantage.

This mindset has been sustained by a dangerous metaphor: Nigeria as a “national cake.” The phrase is revealing. A cake is meant to be cut and shared until nothing remains. A nation, by contrast, is meant to be cultivated, strengthened, and expanded for future generations. When leaders approach governance with the psychology of consumption rather than construction, national decline becomes inevitable.

Yet, the story need not remain this way. The shift required is not abstract; it is practical and measurable. It begins with a redefinition of public office as a responsibility, not a reward. Political power must be understood as borrowed authority, granted temporarily by citizens for the purpose of service. Wealth accumulated from public office should never exceed the value created for the public. That simple moral equation, if sincerely applied, would transform governance overnight.

Patriotism must also be reintroduced into leadership, not the ceremonial patriotism of speeches and slogans, but the operational patriotism of decisions and policies. Real patriotism is visible in transparent procurement, in infrastructure that endures beyond tenure, in education systems that equip future generations, and in economic policies that create opportunity rather than dependency. It is demonstrated when leaders leave office with less personal wealth but more national progress.

Politicians who have benefited immensely from Nigeria have a special obligation to give back. Many have gained status, security, and prosperity through public resources and public trust. Gratitude for such privilege should not be expressed in rhetoric but in governance. Service should be the repayment of opportunity.

Good governance is not mysterious. It is the consistent application of integrity, competence, and accountability. It requires prioritizing national interest over personal networks. It demands respect for institutions rather than manipulation of them. It insists that public funds be treated as sacred, not accessible. Above all, it requires the humility to recognize that leadership is temporary but consequences are permanent.

There is also a matter of legacy. Political power fades quickly; national impact endures. History remembers builders more kindly than beneficiaries. A leader who constructs reliable infrastructure, strengthens education, and protects institutions leaves a footprint that outlives tenure. A leader who merely accumulates wealth leaves a vacuum, and often, a stain.

Nigeria’s citizens are not asking for perfection. They are asking for seriousness. They want leaders who understand that development is deliberate, not accidental. They want leadership that views the nation not as an inheritance to be divided but as a project to be completed. They want governance that reflects sacrifice rather than entitlement.

To those who have gained much from Nigeria, the message is simple and unavoidable: give back through performance. Give back through policy. Give back through integrity. Give back by leaving office with the nation stronger than you found it. Public office should not be the peak of personal achievement; it should be the platform for national advancement.

The transformation of Nigeria will not begin with abstract ideals. It will begin when those in power accept that service is not optional. It is the very justification for their authority. When leaders internalize that truth, governance becomes purposeful, institutions become resilient, and citizens regain trust.

Nigeria does not need more beneficiaries of the system. It needs custodians of the nation. The choice before the political class is therefore stark: continue extracting from the country and deepen its decline, or invest in the country and secure its future. History will record which path they choose. But the country deserves leaders who choose duty.