Tag: #PacesetterFrontier

-By Abdul Mahmud

There is a strange affliction that festers in our land. It is the compulsive habit of adorning the ordinary with grandiose labels, of dressing the barely local in the borrowed robes of the global and international. Here, words are stardust sprinkled on names, banners, and signboards to confer false importance. The humblest of ventures is elevated, not by substance, but by description. This obsession is more than a quirk of language; it is a symptom of a deeper malaise: the insecurity of a country and its people uncertain of their own worth. Instead of nurturing what is authentically ours, we mask our limitations with inflated adjectives, as though the mere invocation of international and the global will transform our realities. In doing so, we cheapen language and deceive ourselves, while the world looks on, unconvinced.

Drive through any Nigerian city and you will see it. A third-rate hotel perched on a dusty street in the backyard of a city declaring itself “international”. Never mind the broken tiles, the rattling ceiling fan, and the tasteless menu. What matters is the word “international” nailed to its signpost. It is the magic word that makes mediocrity pass for ambition. Even small village schools, with wooden benches and overworked teachers that struggle to provide basic teaching aids proudly carry the tag of “international”, “global”. Parents are seduced by both words. They assume their children will step into a universe of excellence, when in truth the schools struggle to afford chalks and exercise books. The word international becomes the uniform of deception. Hotels and schools aren’t alone in this. Churches, too, have turned to the trick. A small church ordinary parish with a leaking roof now brands itself “Global Fire Ministry”. The congregation believes the church has cross-border tentacles, even if the General Overseer has not stepped outside the neighbourhood. He believes the name confers spiritual weight. What is lacking in discipline and doctrine is compensated for with vocabulary.

Governments have not been spared. In fact, they lead the parade. A state government announces a “global summit” in a backward European city with no strong connection to Europe’s commercial and investment market. The stage is set. The banners are printed. The governor flies out with aides. There is a retinue of photographers. And what do we find? A handful of young diaspora Nigerians in autumn jackets, attending for the thrill of proximity. They are not investors. They are not entrepreneurs of global repute. They are mostly immigrants struggling through day jobs, suddenly transformed into delegates. This is the tragedy of Edo State. The governor, who has for long disappeared from the serious business of governance in the Dennis Osadebay House, resurfaced in Dublin to stage what was called the “Global Edo State Investment Summit”. But, there was nothing global about it. It was a local show staged abroad. The audience was thin. The impact was thinner. The word “global’ was the disguise.

Why does this happen? Why does every local activity crave the stamp of international? The answer is simple. We live in a country where names are more powerful than standards. Where labels count for more than substance. In such a place, the quickest way to escape scrutiny is to adopt foreign symbols. Words like “global, international, world-class” are deployed as camouflages. They mask the poverty of service and the absence of quality. It is also a symptom of inferiority. We are not content with our own names, our own standards, our own worth. We feel validated only when we attach the foreign. A hotel that calls itself “Afemai Hotel” feels local, and therefore cheap. But, call it “Afemai International Suites” and it sounds grand. We are trapped by our own insecurities. We measure worth by appearance, not performance. This culture of false ascription is dangerous. It dilutes standards. It creates a society of pretence. Investors are not fooled by banners. Parents are not forever deceived by names. Worshippers soon discover that miracles do not multiply with adjectives. And citizens, sooner or later, realise that their governors cannot deliver development by flying abroad to stage hollow events.

Edo is not alone. Other states have staged “global summits” in London, Washington, New York, or Dubai. The results are always the same. They return home with glossy photographs, with Communiques drafted by consultants, with videos uploaded on government websites. But the schools remain broken. The hospitals remain empty of drugs. The roads remain cratered. What was gained in the trip? Nothing but another false ascription.

So, we must ask ourselves, what is wrong with the local? Why must the local be dressed in borrowed robes before it is accepted? True development begins with an embrace of the local. Japan did not rise by calling its factories “international”. South Korea did not transform itself by organising “global summits”. They built from within. They named their products with pride. They competed on quality, not adjectives. Nigeria and Nigerians must learn this lesson. They must begin to value authenticity over ascription. Schools must be proud to be called Community Primary Schools if that is what they are. The true measure of their worth is not the “international” in their names, but the quality of teaching. Hotels must be content to be called City Lodges if that is what they offer. The true measure is whether their guests return satisfied. Churches must not proclaim themselves “global” before they become faithful to their missions. The true measure is the depths of the doctrines and the character of the flocks. Governors, above all, must resist the temptation of linguistic cosmetics. The people are not hungry for “global summits”. They are hungry for jobs, for safety, for hospitals that function, for schools that teach. The word “global” on a banner in Dublin does not fill an empty stomach in Benin City. It does not heal the sick in Auchi. It does not light the street in Uromi. It is vanity dressed as vision.

There is dignity in the local. There is worth in what we build with our own hands, with honesty, with competence. When we pursue excellence, the world will notice. We will not need to shout international. We will not need to add global. The substance will advertise itself. Investors will come because they see opportunity, not because a governor staged a summit abroad. Parents will enrol children in schools because they see quality teaching, not because the school borrowed a foreign label. We deceive ourselves with these false ascriptions. Worse, we waste scarce resources. Every “global summit” costs millions of naira. Flights, hotels, allowances, banners, media coverage. All spent for a show that yields little. What if those funds were spent at home? What if the millions went into equipping schools, rebuilding hospitals, supporting small businesses? That would be development. That would be governance. That would be global in the true sense: creating value that speaks across borders.

The time has come to strip our language of these pretensions. Let us call things what they are. Let us demand quality, not adjectives. A country that is serious cannot afford the delusion of ascription. We must be content to be local, but excellent. We must summon the courage to be Nigerian, authentically so, but with competence as our guiding star. True greatness will not come from borrowed titles or inflated claims; it will come from the quiet labour of building institutions that work, nurturing excellence where we stand, and trusting the worth of our own creations.

It is in the depth of our local strength that we shall, one day, speak with a global voice. Not through the false banners we hang upon our failures, but through the substance of what we can offer the world. Until then, every “international’ hotel planted on a dusty street, every “global” academy tucked into a backyard, every “global summit” staged abroad will remain what it truly is: a masquerade of words, a costume draped over mediocrity.

The mask of deception is as troubling as the hollow absence of standards that exposes our pretensions and ridicules our borrowed grandeur. The more we hide behind empty banners and labels, the louder the laughter of mediocrity rings against our claims. To rise above this, we must choose authenticity over adornment, competence over slogans. Only then will the Nigerian story shed the garb of mimicry and assume the dignity of originality by transforming words into substance and pretence into mastery.