At a recent graduation ceremony for my children at a private school, I expected a celebration of young minds and their achievements. Instead, I watched a familiar, draining spectacle unfold: a parade of dignitaries, each introduced with a dizzying list of past and present titles, while their actual contributions to education or any other sector remained a mystery. This isn’t just a government function problem anymore; it has infected our private institutions, turning what should be a moment of inspiration into a tedious exercise in ego-stroking.
We have all seen it. At a three-hour event, half the time is wasted on lengthy acknowledgments of officials, with speakers reciting a laundry list of “former-this” and “ex-that” but never a single line about tangible impact. It is a system that rewards presence over performance. My advice to partners planning events is simple: avoid inviting top government officials. They arrive late not because they are busy with anything meaningful, but because lateness has become a perverse badge of importance. They expect to be addressed as if they hold traditional titles from a bygone dynasty, with citations that pad their CVs with positions rather than accomplishments. And invariably, they leave before the event ends, performing a pantomime of busyness as a badge of honor. Busy doing what, exactly? If they were mostly competent, would Nigeria be in its current precarious state?
This culture of protocol, where every speaker repeats the same exhaustive greetings, is a time-wasting ritual that feeds the egos of the elite. I once anchored a United Nations event where a representative from the Independent National Electoral Commission walked out because she felt she wasn’t addressed properly. I had to leave the stage to pacify her. At the same event, a junior officer from the Federal Inland Revenue Service stormed out because his chairman wasn’t recognized, and a representative from the Office of the Vice President did the same. With all the pressing crises facing Nigeria, how do we find so much time to obsess over following protocol and ensuring that all protocols are duly observed?
To the graduating classes of 2026 across Nigeria who may have witnessed these displays, understand this: the current political class should not be your models. A society does not decline merely because bad leaders rise; it declines when young minds begin to mistake titles for wisdom, privilege for achievement, and public recognition for public service. If you inherit their values uncritically, you will inherit their failures as well.
This obsession with title over substance is rooted in a socio-cultural hybrid shaped by four distinct eras, transforming traditional respect into a mandatory social ritual that reinforces class distinction. But serious governance cannot coexist with such superficiality when there are real problems to solve. It is high time we weaned ourselves of useless colonial and bureaucratic practices that add no value to the country.
Philosophically, a nation-state relies on what the ancients called civic virtue: the idea that public office is a burden of service, not a throne of privilege. When titles are decoupled from accomplishments, and protocol replaces productivity, authority becomes hollow. It turns into a form of narcissism where leaders demand reverence for who they are rather than what they have done. The future of Nigeria will not be built by those who worship position, but by those who choose substance, character, competence, and service.
Though I know most of you may want to japa, remember: let your character be your true title, and let your measurable impact on the lives of society be your main protocol. Congratulations.
