In 2005, I stood at a crossroads. Having secured admission for a Master’s degree in the UK, I resigned from a tech job in Abuja. My boss escalated the matter to the managing director, who summoned me and urged me to reconsider, arguing a foreign degree wasn’t worth it. His argument was persuasive, and the power dynamic almost swayed me. But a conversation with my uncle changed everything. He reminded me that the MD himself had studied in the UK and explained how the exposure, not just the certificate, would open unseen doors. That advice shaped the next two decades of my career—and proved completely right.
That experience exposed a recurring contradiction in Nigeria: many who benefited from foreign education or exposure are now the loudest voices discouraging others from doing the same.
This hypocrisy plays out across public discourse. Recently, Temidayo Oniosun lamented online that Nigerians abroad were “wasting away” in entry-level jobs in the UK while they should be building companies back home. Yet, as Victor Adeleye pointed out, Oniosun had completed a Master’s in 2020, then earned a PhD in the US, where he still works. Adeleye’s retort captured the problem perfectly: “Talents go where they are valued. They’re not wasting away, Doctor. A lot of them are building from where they are—and that’s okay.”
This contradiction is not limited to individuals online. It is systemic. Nigerian politicians routinely urge young people to stay and build the country while sending their own children to universities abroad. Two of President Bola Tinubu’s six children still live in the US, and another returned just in time for his father’s election run. This pattern extends to business leaders who promote Nigeria as a land of opportunity while maintaining property, wealth, and second passports abroad. They often keep their money and families in safer, more stable environments—even as they tell others to risk it all in Nigeria.
Academics, too, are guilty. Some who built careers on foreign degrees now disparage studying abroad, insisting local education is good enough. But the message is clear: “I went abroad and gained from it—you shouldn’t.” This mindset discourages ambition and locks the next generation out of the same opportunities.
This hypocrisy causes real harm. Young Nigerians see their supposed mentors talk down the same paths they privately took—and it erodes trust. When advice comes from people who act contrary to their words, it feels manipulative, not inspiring. It leads to cynicism and the belief that elites are hoarding opportunity.
It also worsens brain drain. People don’t just leave Nigeria for money—they leave because they feel unvalued, untrusted, and blocked by those who already made it. When they see the elite pulling up the ladder, the instinct is to flee, not stay.
Ultimately, this stunts Nigeria’s progress. Countries thrive on innovation, diverse experience, and global exposure. Discouraging young people from going abroad while benefiting privately from doing the same weakens the nation’s competitiveness. It deprives the country of new ideas, best practices, and the networks that come from international experience.
Nigeria needs a different kind of leadership. Those who have succeeded through international exposure must own that truth and be honest about it. They should use their platforms to advocate for improved systems at home and create real opportunities for others. Instead of shaming those who leave, they should support them—and build a country they’d want to return to.
Progress demands that Nigerians be free to pursue opportunity wherever it exists, without guilt. National development doesn’t come from isolation or hypocrisy. It comes from opening doors for others, not closing them once you’re through. If foreign education or global access helped you succeed, it should not be denied to the next generation. True leadership lifts others up—it doesn’t tell them to stay behind while you soar.
Nwanze is a partner at SBM Intelligence.
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