Prosperity blossoms when citizens are first equipped to produce, to create, and to innovate, contends K BOLANLE ATI-JOHN
In the life of any nation, there are moments that call for profound reflection, opportunities to pause and consider not just where we are going, but the foundational principles that will guide us there. As Nigeria introduces a new vision for taxation, aiming to modernize and consolidate, we find ourselves in precisely such a moment. It is a sincere effort to strengthen our nation’s finances, and that intention is worthy of respect. Yet, it also invites a gentle, deeper conversation about how prosperity is truly built and sustained across generations.
The world’s most enduring economic transformations share a common, powerful story. They were not sparked by the collection of resources alone, but by the deliberate and patient cultivation of human potential. History consistently shows us that prosperity blossoms when citizens are first equipped to produce, to create, and to innovate. The resources collected by the state are not the starting point of this journey, but its natural and sustainable result. This is a lesson we in Nigeria have learned before, within our own borders, and its quiet wisdom endures, waiting to be rediscovered.
There was a time, not so long ago, when this philosophy was our guiding light. In the 1950s, amid the ferment of self-governance, the Western Region under Chief Obafemi Awolowo embarked on a profound experiment in statecraft. The central question was not how to divide existing wealth, but how to create more for everyone. The answer was a simple but revolutionary commitment: enable first, and the means to build will follow. It was a compact of mutual belief between the government and the governed.
That commitment began with an unwavering belief in our greatest asset, our people. The landmark introduction of free primary education was more than policy; it was an act of profound faith in the future. It meant choosing to invest in the child of the farmer and the ambition of the petty trader, gifting them with literacy and numeracy, and opening the doors to a modern economy. That generation, thus empowered, became the architects of new industries, the stewards of strong institutions, and the living proof that an educated populace is the bedrock of a dynamic economy.
This belief extended organically to the land and its cultivators. Cocoa farmers, the lifeblood of the regional economy, were not seen as mere sources of revenue but as partners in progress. Through robust cooperatives, innovative extension services, and stabilizing marketing boards, they were empowered with knowledge, fair prices, and access to credit. Their success became the region’s success. The renowned Cocoa House in Ibadan, rising proudly against the skyline, stood not as a monument to taxation, but to what is possible when a community’s producers are nurtured and celebrated. It was a testament to productivity, not extraction.
The genius of Awolowo’s philosophy lay in this practical balance. Free education was not declared in isolation, but funded through the prosperity of cocoa farmers who had been enabled to thrive. By organizing them, stabilizing their markets, and protecting them from exploitation, he secured a fiscal backbone strong enough to finance social services and infrastructure. This was not charity; it was strategic statecraft, where enabling producers created the revenues to sustain government programs.
This period was not a perfect idyll, nor was it without its challenges, but it was guided by a lucid and compelling principle. Build the capacity of your people, support your producers, create a foundation for enterprise, and revenue will naturally and sustainably follow. It was a virtuous cycle where government investment sparked private productivity, which in turn filled the public coffers, enabling further investment.
As we now look at our new and well-intentioned reforms, we see a clear desire for a strong, secure, and modern Nigeria. We can also, humbly and constructively, wonder if in our urgent need for resources, we might be pausing this essential cycle of growth before it can truly begin. The mechanisms, a wider tax net, a minimum tax rate, levies on digital transactions, are designed with modern goals in mind. Yet, they may inadvertently focus on collection from an economy and a populace that are still striving to formalize, to grow, and to find their footing in a competitive world. The risk is not of malice, but of mistiming, of harvesting the crop before it has had time to ripen.
Today, our small traders face a reality very different from the cocoa farmers of Awolowo’s day. Instead of being organized and supported, they are often left to navigate complex levies and compliance demands before they have the scale to survive. Our farmers, who still make up a large share of our workforce, grapple with poor access to credit, weak extension services, and volatile markets. The contrast is striking. Where Awolowo enlarged the productive base before drawing revenue, we risk narrowing it by taxing too soon.
We are not alone in navigating this delicate balance. Around the world, nations are relearning that the most powerful economic incentive is not a demand, but an invitation to grow. Our neighbours in Ghana, for instance, are making strategic choices to significantly lighten the fiscal load on small traders, startups, and producers. They are betting that this freedom will generate greater formal economic activity, foster job creation, and, in time, generate a broader and more resilient tax base for everyone. They are challenging us, by example, to remember that economic leadership is ultimately about nurturing confidence and unlocking potential.
The true test of any policy, however elegantly designed, is its harmony with the daily reality of our people. Can our admirable goals be gently and effectively woven into the fabric of a nation where informality is often a necessity, where capital is scarce, and where the spirit of enterprise burns bright but often without adequate support? The ultimate success of these reforms will depend as much on the capacity of our institutions to support, educate, and enable as it is on their ability to administer and enforce. Building this administrative capacity, through technology, training, and a service-oriented culture, is therefore not an adjunct to tax policy; it is its essential prerequisite.
Perhaps this is our shared opportunity, to blend our undeniable need for resources with our timeless wisdom on how to create them. What if our next step was a grand, national project of enablement? A solemn covenant to first invest, at scale, in the pillars of prosperity: in education that frees potential, in agricultural support that triples yields and incomes, in infrastructure that connects enterprise to opportunity, and in healthcare that ensures a productive workforce.
This is not a call to abandon fiscal responsibility, but to embrace our greatest one, which is to create the conditions for widespread success. When our people and our businesses are visibly thriving, their contribution to the national treasury will be a willing testament to shared success, not a reluctant burden of compliance. It transforms taxation from a point of contention into a partnership for progress.
The clear legacy of our past and the bright promise of our future point unerringly in the same direction. It is a path of partnership, where government enables and the people prosper, each supporting the other in a virtuous cycle of growth and dignity. It is a path that begins not with a demand, but with an investment, a confident investment in the boundless, waiting potential of the Nigerian people.
Policies matter, but principles matter more. The lasting lesson of Awolowo is not only in the programs he launched, but in the philosophy he embodied: that leadership is not about extraction, but enablement, not about balancing ledgers, but about inspiring confidence and trust.
This is the proven path to a prosperity that is not just collected, but built together, earned together, and shared together. It is a path we have walked before. And it is a path, beckoning us once more, to remember our first principles. For the whole essence of leadership, as Awolowo showed us, is not to extract but to inspire.
Ati-John is a retired Rear Admiral
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