“Africa will only remain when it realizes that the future remains with the youths.”—Oby Ezekwesili
Throughout our near-50 years as a free country, all indications that Youth play a part in sustaining and safeguarding the fundamental foundations of our democratic experiment have been validated time and time again. And there’s little doubt that the concern for the future of young people is of top priority with elected officials.
In fact, if anything, history shows that the federal government has, at least, attempted to address the needs of Youth with considerably efficacy. Evidence abounds in the creation of the National Youth Policy in 1983 and its rebirth in 2001 which, amongst other things, acknowledged past governmental shortcomings and promised policies that would “[recognize] the societal problems … associated with unemployment and under-employment” confronting Nigeria’s Youth. Part of its objective, then-President Obasanjo declared, would be to “create conditions and opportunities for creativity.” It was critical that these polices be enacted promptly because “a nation can only afford to neglect the growth and development of its youth at its own peril.”
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So, why the glaring statistics suggesting a different narrative?
For instance, a society that values its youth would be more concerned if 40 million of them, between the ages of 18 and 30, were unemployed. A couple of weeks back, such was the bombshell dropped by Hon. Depo Oyedokun, Chairman of the House of Representatives Committee on Youth and Social Development. Worse was his announcement that, of the 40 million, “23 million are unemployable and therefore susceptible to crime.” He called for “greater national concern” about these unpleasant statics, assuring that not only does it influence the social, but it also implies “grave consequences on national security and crime rate.”
Youth constitute more than half of Nigeria’s population, and yet, our society still fails to make the obvious connection between jobless, hopeless young people and, to quote the chairman, “national security.”
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There are a number of predictable outcomes when youth look over the horizon and don’t see much compelling them to keep pushing against the grain. Beyond the possibility—and, in some instances, inevitability—of a swerve toward thuggery, gangsterism, and outright criminality, there’s also the adverse, incalculable effect such reality will have on the minds of children: It’s hard to stress the qualities of a good education to a child when the guarantee of a livable income and dignified employment is all but nonexistent. Do we not understand that the lack of available, alternative outlets for Youth to contain and challenge their exuberance leads to an inexorably divided society—where Youth become suspect in the eyes of adults, and all forms of cross-generational communication break down, giving way to hostility and hubris?
It’s also important to account for that most rattling of words Hon. Oyedokun used—“unemployable.” It’s not often an elected official abandons prevarication to adopt Parrhesia—plain speech. Greek philosopher Socrates half-lamented Parrhesia as the “cause” of his “unpopularity.” In the poli-theatrical world of public relations and polling, it’s rare that a politician speak so candidly about issues bearing great societal significance; but I assume such grave moments as this is what forced the word “unemployable” out the chairman’s tongue; for it connotes near impossibility, improbability, unlikelihood—a frightening indictment on the livelihoods of 23 million people. It all but condemns them to a future engulfed in nihilism. It yanks the sheer responsibility of Struggle out of the question.
That word, and the context in which it was used, is, in many ways, a microcosm and a metaphor for the plight Nigeria’s youth have found themselves relegated to for far too long—and without the necessary, critical intervention of an adult population. But this crisis, this tampering with the pillars that hold erect all democratic ceilings, is international in scope.
In Democracy Matters, U.S. philosopher Cornel West outlined some of the universal symptoms abandoned Youth of all stripes are forced to grapple with: “personal depression, psychic pain, and individual loneliness fueling media-influenced modes of escapism.” He also explained that, not unlike generations of the past, “our kids today see clearly the hypocrisies and mendacities of our society, and as they grow up they begin to question in a fundamental way some of the lies that they’ve received from society.” [Penguin Group, 2004 paperback ed., p. 175. & p. 177.]
The other day I was explaining to a younger sibling the concept of white lies, and why, while sometimes innocent, they corrupt the complete sanctity of the truth.
I wonder if young people, and especially children, will be told white lies by their parents and teachers when asked what kind of future awaits them. Would they be blatantly told that it, to put it crassly, sucks? Or would they be coaxed into working extraneously hard toward an unreachable future? And more importantly, would they be informed that throughout the history of Nigeria, times of economic distress have often been the catalyst used to propel its citizenry to deliberative-democratic action—championing the belief that no condition is permanent?
Henry Giroux, a dear friend and Canada-based scholar whose many works on Youth culture I’ve fortunately engaged, believes it’s more complex than a Youth-abandoned society. As he sees it, a “war” is being waged on the collective psyches, imaginations, and futures of Youth. In his new book, Youth in a Suspect Society, Giroux argues that the “war against youth … offers no apologies because it is too arrogant and ruthless to imagine any resistance.” The absence of a “larger public dialogue” about these concerns, he writes, would only secure a continuation of the offensive. [Palgrave Macmillan, 2009, p. 142.]
Whether one accepts his vision as righteous poetry or not, what cannot be undervalued or dismissed is that our country has need for a moral awakening as it concerns the needs of young folk.
We desperately need more social organizations invested in the future of young people. Groups like Youth Crime Watch of Nigeria, The Alliance of Nigerian Youth, and Nigerian Youth Alliance, afford great blueprint—and hope!—worth keeping track of. But a handful is never enough—more so for a disaster of this magnitude. The vacuum must be filled with educational, spiritual, physical, and social avenues that put at center the “least of these.”
For a society, such as ours, with rich, rigorous intellectual resources, there’s a certain moral lapse found in the priorities placed on education when juxtaposed with the dilapidated conditions of many schools across the country. We preach to kids the gospel of academic rigor, but fail to transmit equal amounts of passion to ensure equitable school supplies and funding. That gap, as well, must be bridged.
But the Naira can only go so far. We must begin reengaging non-market, non-privatized concepts such as love, compassion, tolerance, care, empathy and, yes, righteous indignation. There’s no denying most parents harbor deep love for their kids, and most adults would rather see the younger generation productive and prospering. But, again, there appears a lapse—if not friction—between desire and deed.
Above all, it would depend on the moral ferocity and ethical courage Nigeria’s Youth are able to muster, for any credible change to take place. The centrality of Youth to effective change is being witnessed worldwide—in Greece, in Iran and, more explicitly, in the U.S. presidential election last year, where young people accounted for 9.3% of the electorate; the largest since 1984, and a 4-5% increase from the 2004 elections.
The Youth of Nigeria must begin coming to terms with the realities of its future, and with why the greatest crime a human being can commit is to live the world in worse shape than was found upon entry. Ecumenical approaches—that cultivate the resources of multi-tribal, multi-ethnic, multi-faith and, most importantly, multi-generational fellowships—should be harnessed to transform—salvage—a future that might look gloomy today but stands resistible to change.
It’s up to the young generation to decide what legacy it intends to live behind—one of victors or victims.
Tolu Olorunda is a cultural critic currently residing in the U.S. He can be reached at: [email protected].
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