Nigeria’s Independence: A Ceremony We Celebrate, Then Quickly Forget -By Isaac Asabor

Every October 1, Nigeria stands still,  at least for a moment. The flags rise, the parades march, the anthems thunder through the air, and politicians dust off their rhetoric to remind us of how far we have come as a nation. The television screens beam with patriotic colours, children wave miniature flags, and the air smells of nostalgia. For a day, we feel united, proud, and hopeful.

Then, as soon as the sun sets, everything fades, the speeches, the sentiments, the promises, and the resolve. Within days, Nigeria’s Independence becomes a forgotten ceremony, replaced by our usual chaos of do-or-die manner of hustling, insecurity, inflation, and political distraction. The same leaders who stood before us on Independence Day, speaking of “renewed hope,” return to their old ways. The same citizens who wore green and white go back to the grind of survival. That is the tragedy of our Independence, a ritual without reflection, a commemoration without continuity.

For 65 years, this has been our pattern. Every October 1, our leaders sound freshly inspired, pledging reforms, unity, and accountability. Their speeches are full of nostalgia, crafted to tug at our patriotic hearts. But listen closely, and you will hear the echo of speeches from years past, merely rephrased and rebranded. It is the same recycled grammar of governance: “We will diversify the economy.” “We will empower the youth.” “We will tackle insecurity.” “We will build a stronger Nigeria.”

Ask any of them today what they said on Independence Day, and most will not remember. Because, in truth, they did not mean it. It was all ritualistic performance, an annual ritual of pretended sincerity.

The painful reality is that Independence Day in Nigeria has lost meaning beyond ceremony. It has become a day of speeches instead of stocktaking, of nostalgia instead of progress. And Nigerians, worn down by decades of unfulfilled promises, have grown indifferent. We clap, we post patriotic messages, and then we move on, because experience has taught us that nothing changes after the applause.

This collective amnesia is dangerous. Nations that forget too easily cannot build sustainably. Independence is not meant to be a one-day celebration; it is a yearly evaluation; a chance to measure how free, how just, and how prosperous the people have become. But here, we mark it as a festival of forgetfulness. We celebrate the idea of independence, not its reality.

If we truly want to honour October 1, then our leaders should be judged not by how well they spoke on that day but by what they do afterward. The day after Independence should be the beginning of accountability, not the end of performance. The promises made on that podium should translate into policies, budgets, and measurable actions. But instead, once the microphones are turned off and the cameras stop rolling, the pledges are packed away with the podium decorations.

It is not just the leaders who are guilty, the people too have surrendered to cynicism. We have become spectators to our own democracy. We listen, we complain, but we rarely demand follow-through. Independence is supposed to awaken civic consciousness, not lull it into silence. Yet, every October 2, the nation goes back to sleep.

Sixty-five years after gaining political freedom, Nigeria should be far beyond this ceremonial mentality. Independence should now mean independence from corruption, from poverty, from energy crises, and from leadership deceit. But how can we attain that when the day meant to remind us of our struggles now merely reminds us of our helplessness?

Other nations use their independence anniversaries to showcase tangible progress, new infrastructures, economic milestones, technological breakthroughs, or social reforms. Here, we use it to replay patriotic jingles and rehearse the same speeches about potential. We have become so accustomed to ceremonial patriotism that we mistake it for progress.

And so, the question now begs to be asked: how long will Nigerian leaders continue to feign patriotism? How long will they keep wearing the national colours on October 1 only to stain them with corruption on October 2? How long will they keep promising a “new Nigeria” while preserving the old systems that keep millions poor and powerless? How long will they keep reading eloquent speeches about unity while sowing division for political gain? How long will they pretend to love a country they consistently plunder?

True patriotism is not in the waving of flags, the singing of anthems, or the delivery of flowery speeches. It is in service, sacrifice, and sincerity. It is in leadership that prioritizes the people above politics, transparency above theatrics, and nation-building above personal gain. But Nigerian leaders seem more interested in performance than progress.

Every year, they line up to deliver speeches that sound as if the country is being rediscovered; speeches that lament the same problems they helped create. They talk about national unity while ignoring the cries of marginalized communities. They speak of development while citizens languish in poverty. They call for peace while insecurity festers under their watch.

If patriotism were judged by words, Nigeria would be a paradise. But it is actions that build nations, and on that count, our leaders consistently fail.

There is something fundamentally wrong when a country’s Independence Day no longer inspires hope but provokes laughter, indifference, or anger. It means the leaders have broken faith with the people. It means the nation’s conscience is bleeding quietly beneath the noise of celebration.

If our leaders truly love this country as they claim every October 1, then let them prove it by building institutions that outlast their tenures, by cutting waste, by leading with integrity, by securing lives and livelihoods. Patriotism is not about showing up for one day, it is about showing up every day for the Nigerian people.

But citizens too must rise above indifference. We cannot keep surrendering to despair while complaining about failed leadership. The same energy we display in celebrating Independence must be redirected into holding our leaders accountable. We must start asking questions, demanding results, and refusing to forget the promises made under the glare of television lights. National rebirth will not happen from the top; it must begin from the collective consciousness of the people.

If the leaders continue to feign patriotism, then let the citizens embody it genuinely. Let patriotism return to the streets, schools, and civic spaces, where it truly belongs. Let Nigerians decide that Independence Day will no longer be a ceremony of deceit but a reminder of duty, a day to measure our leaders, challenge complacency, and recommit ourselves to the ideals of freedom and justice.

Because the truth is simple: Nigeria will not change because our leaders sound patriotic on October 1. It will change only when the people stop forgetting on October 2.

Until then, our Independence will remain what it has sadly become, a public holiday, and a beautiful ceremony we celebrate, and then quickly forget.