
Fixing the Fault Lines in Nigeria’s Culture of Recognition
By Mukhtar Ya’u Madobi
It is customary for nations to recognize and celebrate citizens who distinguish themselves through exceptional feats that bring pride and honor to their country. Such recognition—when done properly—cuts across sports, entertainment, education, research, innovation, leadership, security, and national defense. It is not merely a gesture of appreciation but also an incentive for greater excellence.
In Nigeria, however, recent developments suggest that the country’s reward system has become skewed, selective, and in many cases, disconnected from the realities faced by its citizens.
The latest wave of extravagant rewards showered on female athletes by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has generated widespread outrage, especially against the backdrop of biting economic hardship in which millions of Nigerians—including public servants—struggle to afford basic necessities.
It began with the Super Falcons, who clinched the 2024 Women’s Africa Cup of Nations trophy after a dramatic comeback victory over Morocco’s Atlas Lionesses. At a reception in Abuja, the President announced a reward package of $100,000 (in naira equivalent) for each of the 24 players, $50,000 for each of the 11-man technical crew, three-bedroom apartments in the Renewed Hope Estate, and national honors (OON) for the entire team.
Barely a week later, the same template was extended to the women’s basketball team, D’Tigress, after they secured their fifth consecutive AfroBasket title in Côte d’Ivoire. Players and officials once again received identical cash gifts, houses, and honors.
While celebrating athletic excellence is laudable, many Nigerians view these rewards as misplaced priorities. The discontent is not borne of envy but of glaring contradictions.
At the very moment of these dollar splashes, retired veterans of the Armed Forces of Nigeria were staging protests at the Ministry of Finance over unpaid entitlements. Across the country, active-duty personnel continue to fight terrorists and bandits with outdated weapons, inadequate welfare packages, and dilapidated living conditions. Police officers, civil defense operatives, and other paramilitary staff face similar neglect.
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These are men and women who daily risk their lives to defend Nigeria’s sovereignty, foil terrorist attacks, rescue hostages, and protect lives and property. Yet, their gallantry is rarely acknowledged, let alone rewarded. In contrast, athletes who spend weeks or months in tournaments are showered with millions. This inequity is not only demoralizing but dangerous.
Neglecting frontline security operatives erodes morale, weakens patriotism, and risks compromising national security. Already, terrorists and criminal networks exploit such frustrations, attempting to lure disillusioned personnel into their fold. The consequences of such a drift could be catastrophic for national stability.
Beyond security, Nigeria’s reward imbalance also extends to education, innovation, and research. Young inventors and scientists who produce groundbreaking solutions to the nation’s developmental challenges often go unrecognized. Teachers who labor under harsh conditions to raise the next generation are rarely appreciated.
Academic unions such as ASUU often embark on strikes as a last resort to demand entitlements from state or federal governments. The same trends are seen with lecturers in polytechnics and colleges of education. Doctors, nurses, and other health professionals also struggle for improved salaries, allowances, and better working environments.
Unsurprisingly, many of these professionals are leaving the country in droves, seeking greener pastures abroad. This “brain drain” has further weakened Nigeria’s health and education systems.
Meanwhile, the lopsided culture of reward sends the wrong message: that Nigeria values entertainment and sports more than the very sectors that sustain its security, stability, and development.
Rewarding athletes is not wrong, but it must be balanced. National recognition should not be restricted to footballers and basketball players while soldiers in the trenches, scientists in laboratories, teachers in classrooms, and doctors in hospitals are treated as invisible. What Nigeria needs is a holistic and inclusive reward system—fair, transparent, and proportional.
The government still has time to recalibrate. By deliberately recognizing and rewarding gallant security personnel, researchers, educators, innovators, and health workers alongside sports stars, Nigeria can inspire excellence across all sectors. This is how nations cultivate patriotism, strengthen institutions, and chart sustainable paths for development.
Until then, the fault lines in Nigeria’s reward system will remain a dangerous Achilles’ heel—fueling resentment, eroding morale, and widening the gap between sacrifice and recognition.
Mukhtar Ya’u Madobi is a Research Fellow at the Centre for Crisis Communication. He writes via: [email protected]