By Rasheed Ojikutu

Only God knew the mind of Flora Shaw and her reason for christening our country as “Nigeria.” Whatever the situation may be the name has come to stay and it is synonymous with a lot of indelible prints on the footprint of the sand of the chronology of mankind.

Shaw who was a British journalist and writer in the late 19th century worked with The Times of London coined the name “Nigeria” in an article published in 1897. It is widely assumed that the name was derived from the Niger River. According to literature “Nigeria” may have been a convenient way of referring to “Niger area” or the British territories around the River Niger. She later married Lord Lugard who became the Governor General of Nigeria after the amalgamation in 1914. The question is “ what has become of the country a century and 12 years after?”. True to expectation, the name stuck to the chest of the country like rubber glued with adhesive called “Quick-Fix” but not without its challenges.

Today, most Nigerians do not realize that the country is not just a geographical expression nor is it a mere lines drawn on a colonial map. That it is not just a collection of states, languages, and ethnic nationalities but a living idea, a shared struggle and a restless dream.

For many Nigerians today, the dream of being Nigerian feels distant and that is the reason why citizens speak about Nigeria in homes, offices, markets, churches, mosques, motor parks, and online spaces, with tone often laden with frustration, criticism, mockery, despair, and sometimes ridicule in ways that reveal a deep crisis of confidence.

The title of this article, namely, “I pray for Nigeria” is not just an expression to our creator for divine intervention. It is a statement based on profound concern for the overall well-being of the country. It is an admission that something is amiss and that we seem to feel powerless to fix it. It is also, sometimes, a subtle resignation and an indication that many Nigerian citizens have transferred responsibility for national transformation from civic action to divine intervention.

Across different societal strata, there is a pervasive belief that Nigeria cannot work. From agitation about of electricity to jokes about governance, from frustration with public institutions to cynicism about elections, many Nigerians speak of their country as if it were destroyed and out-rightly irreparable. In everyday discussion, it has become the norm to come across , phrases such as “ This is the worst country in the world”, “This country cannot change,” “Nothing works here,” “ In a more civilized society”, and “Only in Nigeria” . These statements may seem harmless, but as they are encored constantly, they shape collective psychology.

Ridiculing the country has become to many Nigerians, a coping mechanism. When there is no electricity, when roads are bad, when infrastructures don’t work or when they are unavailable, we laugh. When policies fail, we create memes. When corruption scandals break, we circulate sarcastic comments. Humor has long been a powerful tool in Nigerian culture, but increasingly it has become a shield against disappointment. We mock the country as a way of expressing pain. Yet, in doing so, we may also be reinforcing hopelessness. In the lingo of the Afro Beat Maestro , “ we are suffering and smiling”

There is the emergence of a troubling pattern in the life of our people whereby Nigerians often speak more proudly and cherish other nations than their own. We celebrate anything that is foreign. We value foreign systems, foreign universities, foreign governments, and foreign passports. We compare Nigeria in a usually unfavorable manner with other countries. This comparison is entirely unjustified because there are real governance challenges in every country of the world. However, when comparison turns into permanent self-condemnation, it erodes national self-belief and deflate positive self evaluation.

The crisis of confidence manifests in several ways. First, there is the “exit mentality.” For many young Nigerians, the ultimate dream is not to build Nigeria but to leave it. The popular expression “japa” captures this mindset . There is a widespread desire to emigrate in search of stability and opportunity even if such “utopia” is rarely available in those places. While migration is a legitimate personal choice, when it becomes a national obsession, it signals a deep loss of faith in the future.

Also, there is deep institutional distrust in Nigeria. Many Nigerians assume that there is corruption in public offices even before evidence emerges. Elections are viewed with suspicion. Government announcements are greeted with skepticism. Public officials are presumed guilty in the court of public opinion. Although accountability is necessary in public offices yet, blanket distrust can weaken civic engagement and reduce constructive participation.

The media plays a powerful role in shaping these perceptions because traditional media such as newspapers, radio, and television often prioritize sensational headlines. Negative news attracts more public attention. Hence, stories of tragedies, crime, corruption, and failure dominate front pages and prime-time broadcasts whereas positive developments, innovations, reforms, local successes rarely receive far less prominence. Over time, this imbalance creates a narrative that Nigeria is defined solely by dysfunction.

Investigative journalism is essential in a democracy, and exposing wrongdoing is a noble duty but, when coverage disproportionately emphasizes failure without equal attention to progress, the national mood becomes distorted while citizens become disoriented. Hence, people begin to internalize a one-dimensional image of their country.

In this regard, the role of social media is even more negatively complex. Platforms such as X (formerly Twitter), Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and WhatsApp have democratized expression to the extent that every citizen is now a commentator and those who have no sensible words to share hold the megaphone.While this has amplified important voices, it has also accelerated negativity. Viral content often rewards outrage, sarcasm, and exaggeration. Balanced analysis rarely trends; dramatic criticism thrives.

Social media algorithms favor engagement, and nothing engages like anger. As a result, narratives of collapse spread faster than stories of resilience. Memes that mock Nigeria circulate widely. Satirical videos ridiculing leaders gain millions of views. Hashtags that predict doom trend repeatedly. The digital environment can create an echo chamber in which pessimism feels universal, even when reality is more nuanced.

A major consequence of social media is misinformation. False statistics, edited videos,
and unverified claims are shared rapidly. In moments of crisis, rumors spread faster than facts. This fuels panic, deepens distrust, and reinforces the belief that Nigeria is perpetually in chaos and therefore unstable.

Yet, it is important ponder wether constant condemnation help? Criticism is necessary in any democracy, but there is a difference between constructive criticism and destructive cynicism. Constructive criticism seeks reform; destructive cynicism assumes that reform is impossible. The former energizes citizens; the latter paralyzes them.

Ironically, Nigerians themselves are globally admired for resilience, creativity, and enterprise. Nigerian professionals excel abroad. Nigerian entrepreneurs innovate under challenging conditions. Nigerian artists, musicians, and writers command global audiences.

This suggests that the problem is not a lack of talent but a crisis of collective confidence and systemic coordination.

To improve this situation, several steps are necessary. First, citizens must reclaim balanced patriotism. Patriotism does not mean blind loyalty or silence in the face of injustice. It means loving one’s country enough to improve it, not merely insult it. It means acknowledging problems while also recognizing progress.

Second, media organizations should consciously highlight solutions alongside problems.

“Solutions journalism” focuses on responses to challenges rather than only the challenges themselves. When citizens see examples of effective governance at local levels, successful community initiatives, or innovative startups solving national problems, it broadens imagination.

Third, digital literacy must be strengthened. Citizens need tools to verify information, identify misinformation, and engage respectfully online. Schools, civil society groups, and media organizations can play a role in promoting responsible digital engagement.

Fourth, leaders must rebuild trust through transparency and accountability. Confidence cannot be commanded; it must be earned. Clear communication, consistent policy implementation, and visible consequences for corruption are essential. When institutions function predictably, public cynicism reduces.

Fifth, the education system should cultivate civic responsibility. Young Nigerians must be taught not only to pass examinations but to understand governance, citizenship, and the power of participation. When citizens feel ownership of their country, they are less likely to ridicule it and more likely to defend and improve it.

Finally, Nigerians must examine the language they use about their country. Words matter. Repeated declarations that “Nigeria is finished” shape national psychology. Instead, we can say, “Nigeria has challenges, but we can solve them.” This subtle shift changes orientation from despair to possibility.

“I pray for Nigeria” should not be a slogan of surrender. It should be a commitment to action. Prayer, for those who believe, must be accompanied by participation. For those who do not frame their hope in religious terms, the sentiment remains valid: we must care deeply about our national trajectory.

Nigeria’s story is still being written. It is a young nation in historical terms, navigating complex ethnic, economic, and political realities. The frustrations are real. The disappointments are genuine. But ridicule cannot be the foundation of renewal.

To pray for Nigeria is to hope for Nigeria. To hope for Nigeria is to work for Nigeria. And to work for Nigeria requires confidence not blind optimism, but determined belief that transformation is possible.

The future of Nigeria will not be shaped only by presidents, governors, or legislators. It will be shaped by everyday conversations, by media narratives, by online discourse, and by the collective mindset of its citizens. If Nigerians begin to speak of their country with critical honesty yet constructive hope, the psychological shift alone could be powerful.

In the end, the question is not whether Nigeria has problems. Of course, it does. The question is whether Nigerians will allow those problems to define their identity permanently. A nation mocked relentlessly by its own citizens struggles to inspire unity. But a nation challenged passionately by citizens who still believe in its promise can rise.

I pray for Nigeria, not as an escape from responsibility, but as an affirmation of faith in possibility. May that prayer be matched with courage, integrity, and action. May it inspire a new language of hope. And may Nigeria become not a punch line, but a testament to resilience and renewal.

• Rasheed Ojikutu is Professor of Statistics (rtd), University of Lagos